Path from copy to original

How Maxim Galkin became a dissident

The week got off to a rough start. The first reaction on the Web to Galkin's concert in Novosibirsk was something like this - Maxim is finished. Eschatological moods were explained simply: such a level of revelations can only be afforded on the eve of departure. I also watched the concert.

Such a Galkin (burning eyes, frantic rhythm of performance, fireworks of improvisations) had not been seen before. He never sang Arlekino with such drive. It had been a long time since he'd done a deadly funny parody like the Day of Internal Organs miniature. He had never before been so bold in the genre of political satire. Galkin's reprises about the bored Vladimir Vladimirovich, dreaming of Mars; about the discussion moderator Solovyov in the form of Mao Zedong; about the generation of twenty-year-olds who are sure that the office of president is called “Putin” is littered with the Internet. But it's not enough to read, you need to see. It is impossible to convey in words the parody of "Time will tell" with Sheinin. It is difficult to describe what Galkin is doing with his body in the role of Putin, showing the right path to the Siberian Crane.

So, between the game and reality, he managed to touch on a boundless range of topical topics: Putin, Sobchak, Navalny, censorship on TV, Ukrainization of Russian air and much more.

And since the professional philologist Galkin masterfully owns the word, his assessments are deadly accurate. What is only the fashion historian Alexander Vasiliev, "dressed like a Turkish sofa."

What was it in Novosibirsk? Galkin said more than once, they say, I don’t fight the regime, I don’t notice it. And then suddenly took and noticed. Why? You can quote the beneficiary himself: "Enough." You can explain the disgraced concert with a thirst for hype. There will be no shortage of versions of presidential ambitions (inspired by Zelensky). But the truth, as always, is round, and the reason is deeper than superficial ideas.

I think for Galkin, who turned 43, the moment of truth has come. This is not about a career, but about internal growth. Everything is going well with Maxim's career. If he leads the show, then the most rated. If she sings, then immediately on the solo albums of the Slavic Bazaar. If he builds a house, then he gets a castle, looking at which the local peasants still enthusiastically swear. If he marries, then Alla Pugacheva. Today he is almost the first on the First. Only Ernst allowed him to experiment with the new format. The failure of the evening show "MaximMaxim" was deafening. The brightest person on TV over the past twenty years, of course, remembered this lesson for a long time. There were no more experiments. Today there is a charming, but already boring program "Best of all", there is a Saturday evening show. It is necessary - will drive the stars under hypnosis. It is necessary - he will conduct everything in the world, from awards to government concerts. It is necessary - he will perform in the show "Just Like It", where a copy is valued above the original. But even here she will sing at least "Dubinushka" in the image of Fyodor Chaliapin, even though Habanera in the image of Maria Callas powerfully and piercingly.

Recently, something has begun to change. It seems that Galkin no longer wants to be a copy of either the stars or his former self. He is active on the Web, he defends Golunov and Ustinov.

It seems that he also began to notice the leaden abominations of Russian life, which seemed to not concern him before. At the Novosibirsk concert, the audience saw a free man. This inner change allowed him to talk about what his colleagues do not talk about by default. I cannot agree with Galkin only in that part of the insights that relate to censorship, propaganda, Sovietism. It is no coincidence that Kiselev, Sheinin, Solovyov were the first to rush into the embrasure, screaming that we have none of the above.

Holy truth. The other day, Solovyov explained to the maestro Korchevnikov, exhausted with delight, how best to support those fighting in the studio. Soviet-era propagandists like Genrikh Borovik were soft-spoken and insinuating; the imaginary Skabeeva speaks rattling her handcuffs. Those worked on the instructions of the Central Committee, the current propaganda is a state of mind. Those were cautious and timid, the current ones confuse the TV with the pulpit. The same Solovyov is ready to anathematize liberal demons and guarantee a place in Sindeeva's paradise (for helping the victims of Nord-Ost). So the old terms no longer describe the neurosis of Russia's special path that dominates the box. We need a new language. Professor Huseynov approached the essence most closely, calling it “cesspool”. However, even this definition is not enough when trying to analyze the flows of hatred from the masters of verbal interventions.

While writing a column, the mood on the web is changing.

The most perspicacious interpreters, sitting on their Turkish sofas, are already seeing the root: the Novosibirsk concert is the start of the “successor” operation.

I dare to remind great minds that Galkin has been thinking about the contours of an effective presidential program for a long time. One of his characters was tormented by the problem: is it possible to add holy water to the brine? Everything is possible today. So I want to come to myself and to God in one fell swoop.