An atom named Mashkov: friends and colleagues talked about the hero of the day

If there was a world championship in fanaticism, then Vladimir Lvovich would definitely stand on the top step of the podium. He is a theater fanatic with a full range of symptoms and side effects of fanaticism. As a fanatic, he is hot-tempered, it is difficult for him to object, he does not notice time and details, which normal people always pay attention to, because relationships are largely built and maintained on them. Sometimes it gets so wound up and sparkles so much that it’s unsafe to be around, which is why they call him “Mad” behind his back. Although “intolerant” or “irreconcilable” would be more suitable, these verbal adverbs are more difficult to pronounce. Either it’s “mad”. And that’s it.

And he does not tolerate other people’s cunning and falsehood. Especially in business. If he says: “Not professional,” it sounds like a death sentence when no amount of resuscitation will help. Therefore, future artists who study at the college named after teacher Mashkov learn from the first year that artists are not your bohemians, but plowmen and horses at the same time, who must be able to do EVERYTHING. Well, absolutely EVERYTHING. He himself knows how, and how: we turn on the TV, go to the theater, and we are convinced that he is an atomic artist.

He is irreconcilable to everything that interferes with the profession and the theater. He doesn’t reflect when he recklessly cuts off long-term connections and breaks off friendships if the verb “let down” becomes someone’s system. He is intolerant of sitting on two chairs, of figs in his pocket, and the formula “said one thing, thought another, did a third” is definitely not about him. He’s not a traitor. He decorated his first theater with a three-story letter Z and did not even turn his head towards the people who collectively condemned him, calling themselves liberals, but, as the events after February 2022 showed, they are not. It’s just that Z is his position, and not a pose that he proves with his actions. In Novokuznetsk, where he grew up, mainly behind the scenes of the puppet theater (his parents worked there), he helped rebuild a new building. He opened a theater of unlimited possibilities for children whose lives are limited by serious illnesses. “The doll heals” is the name of this project. He often travels to Donbass, does or participates in other projects for which he does not promote himself. So did his teacher, who believed that good deeds and charity require silence.

He erected a monument to the teacher, Oleg Tabakov, right next to the theater. Although the teacher does not stand majestically looking over the Garden Ring, but reclines comfortably in a red scarf, leaning on the atom of the sun with which he was charged from birth. The theater, received from the teacher, was lined with mirrors from the inside, emphasizing its magical nature.

It’s not easy to run alongside someone like Mashkov: the weak, the cunning, the lazy, lacking in energy and speed, fall off along the way. And he’s running! Furiously, temperamentally, like mad, now growing and now shaving off his beard. Where and why? For an atom of the sun, so as not to waste your own and share it with those who deserve it.

Where do these come from? Are they born or become? What a guy he was and is, the hero’s classmates, artists, and students told MK.

Galina Romanova, an actress at the Novokuznetsk Puppet Theater, remembers Vladimir Lvovich from the time when he was just Vovka.

– I remember his first appearance in our theater – winter, New Year’s holiday, Christmas tree, I am the Snow Maiden. Vova stood in the ticket office wearing a coat and a hat and watched what was happening from under his visor. As if he was giving an assessment. Who would have thought then who he would become? And then he was such a small, peculiar man, very active, he could hit back at anyone. “Vovka got into a fight again, defended someone again,” his mother said when she came to the theater. But she didn’t grieve, she laughed – that’s a common thing. Opposite their house there was a boarding school with difficult children, and he communicated with these children and found contact with them. He went to them, and they to his home, but how? The boarding school was behind a high fence, and the Mashkovs lived on the first floor, so they threw boards from the fence to the windows and along the boards, which means they climbed up to him through the window.

And so he was always in the theater, behind the scenes. I watched him: he would never pass by combs with dolls – either he would take a cane, or scratch a doll’s nose, or put a doll on his hand. In the summer he even worked part-time: we took him with us when we went to pioneer camps, and he helped the assemblers carry sacks – he grew up as a collective person. In high school, roles began to appear for him, he was already working in a play with a glove puppet, but not with a simple one, but with a gapit – he played a wolf. And now, with age, looking at him, I understand that everything that is in him now, everything was laid then. Growing up as a man.

Nikolai Solovyov, a theater actor under the direction of Sergei Afanasyev, studied with Vladimir Mashkov at the Novosibirsk Theater School and lived with him for a year and a half in the same apartment, which they rented together from a classmate.

— The apartment was on the outskirts, it took about 40 minutes to get to the school by bus. We sat down at the final stop, took our seats, and along the way there were a lot of people. Back then it was customary to give up our seats to the elders, and we gave way, but we were terribly sleepy. And once Volodka pretended to be drunk: he stood up, staggering: “Auntie, sit down.” “Sit down, son, what are you doing,” the auntie waved her hands. He famously portrayed his dad, who was a puppet theater actor, very funny. And later, when I watched the play “Sailor’s Silence”, I recognized Volodin Abram Schwartz as his dad – one to one. He and I worked part-time at a clinic – we washed floors there, and even spent the night on Sundays. And when there were no doctors, they put on gowns, sat at the reception desk and pretended to be medical workers. I said: “You should go to such and such an office with Vladimir Lvovich.”

I read about him, that he was a macho man, that he fought, but I never saw him. At the school, Volodya was a leader in the course, he studied well, he knew non-core disciplines, such as art history, and knew how to answer. It was interesting to make cabbage rolls with him. By the way, he rehearsed Hamlet, but didn’t play it – he was expelled from his third year. Not because of his academic performance, but for missing classes: he then went to Novokuznetsk and stayed there due to circumstances. And then Volodya rushed to Moscow. He was immediately accepted into all theater universities, but he chose the Moscow Art Theater School.

Evdokia Germanova:

— The expression “Everything secret sooner or later becomes clear” does not apply to Mashkov. His whole being is bold, naked and directed towards the Great! And Oleg Pavlovich Tabakov’s famous advice to us, his students, exists in active action in Volodya Mashkov. Namely: “Great feelings give rise to great thoughts, and great thoughts lead to great actions.” And only in this sequence.

I want to say that this quality of his nature manifested itself already in his student years. At that time, many current stars lived in the hostel of Oleg Tabakov’s theater-studio, starting their creative journey: Andryusha Smolyakov, Sasha Mokhov, Zhenya Mironov, and, of course, the sparkling Volodya Mashkov. Life reveals much in any human character. Volodya was impeccable here! Even cutting up cheap capelin, which we ate on with little income, turned into a most skillful, delicious process for him! The detailed, careful, careful separation of the entrails from the main part of the fish body, the elimination of the head and tail, dredging each carcass in flour, carefully laying them out on a cutting board in regular, even rows and, finally, the gourmet sprinkling of a thin layer of salt and pepper occurred with the greatest virtuosity and was accompanied by sparkling comments and jokes! The entire dorm gathered for this culinary performance. Salivation began immediately!

Vitaly Egorov:

— The play “Bumbarash” was on, the very first one that Mashkov staged in the basement for Chaplygin. One artist, obviously, allowed himself too much the day before and on the day of the performance there was nothing. What to do? The director himself had to urgently introduce himself. They went through something quickly with him before the performance, although this was not at all necessary: ​​Volodya in “Bumbarash” (as in each of his productions) knows any role, whether it’s male or female, he remembers everything. And in “Bumbarash”, I must say, he had to play a White Guard – a very small role. Well, at the rehearsal everyone seems to have passed, everyone is already calm, but they notice that before the start he is not visible. Usually he is more visible behind the scenes, but here he is not. The third call was made, the performance began, but no one saw him. When the time came for him to leave with the White Guards, Volodya finally appeared. On stage they noticed that for some reason his head was slightly lowered. And so he raises his head proudly, throws his hand forward, and for some reason everyone looks at the hand with the bandaged finger. The retired artist had the same wrapped finger, because he either broke it or dislocated it. So, this bandaged finger, which Volodya proudly held up, was the main point of movement of his body, a distracting maneuver, so to speak. But when he raised his head, everyone saw the thin, elegant makeup on his face, and his glued-on eyelashes looked especially neat and tasteful. This was a split, we could barely restrain ourselves, but at least he could stand it, bat his eyelashes, handsome.

We release “Deadly Number”. We rehearse either in the basement at Chaplygin Street or at the Moscow Art Theater in Kamergersky. It doesn’t even matter where, but the fact that rehearsals were always delayed and ended late. And when we wrapped up, Volodya always told us: “Now we’re going to dinner.” And he took us to a restaurant, or we walked somewhere nearby, and he covered the clearing. They had dinner, immediately continued to discuss everything, rehearse, and immediately received lyules or praise from him. By the way, when he called us like that for the first time, we said that we would pay for ourselves. You should have seen Volodya – it almost came to a fight.

Sergey Bezrukov:

— When I was a student, I watched with delight the play “Sailor’s Silence” and his fantastic, simply unique performance of the role of Abram Schwartz. And I always dreamed of playing in this play. When Sasha Marin left for Canada, Zhenya Mironov began playing the role of Dodik, the son of Abram Schwartz, and I joined Zhenya. And he was happy because at first he played a small role there – an episode in the ambulance train, and then – Dodik. But our graduation performance was “Biloxi Blues,” which was staged at the Tabakerka, and we, students of Oleg Pavlovich Tabakov’s course, were introduced there. Volodya played Sergeant Tommy in it – a bright, sharp-character role. He played funny and great. Then we were cast in the piercing tragic farce “Finest Hour in Local Time,” and we were terribly jealous of Zhenya Mironov, Seryozha Belyaev, Olya Blok-Mirimskaya, Sasha Marin that they were playing in Volodya Mashkov’s play. And then he began rehearsing “The Bumbarash Passion,” where the entire male cast of Tabakov’s course played. Volodya always asked to work at rehearsals at full capacity. He did not recognize any “fullness” and asked the actors to rehearse with one hundred percent dedication so that he could check how much the artist’s energy charge corresponded to his plan. And he himself always works with crazy energy and demands the same from others. In Toronto, I remember they played “Bumbarash”. There, the actors playing the White Guards become Red Army soldiers, and they lost their voices from the stress because they worked to the limit of their capabilities, as Volodya demanded. But you need to sing. So we bandits sang along with the Reds from the wings.

Victor, theater shoemaker:

— What can I say about Vladimir Lvovich? There are never any problems with him when trying on or accepting shoes. His size is fantastic and his reception is fantastic. Always hugs: “Vit, thank you, great.” I sewed him three pairs of shoes for The Inspector General: slippers and two over-the-knee boots. He has a complex leg – the instep is high. And we need to make sure that it fits into the shoes and the foot stands firmly. He is not capricious in his measurements. It’s easy to take measurements, but it’s more difficult to adjust later. And here you can expect any tricks. And Lvovich, if he’s pressed for something, he says: “He’ll do it.” But I see that it won’t work, I say that we still need to fake it. He just tries not to bother others.

Vitaly Egorov:

— There was such a case in the life of Vladimir Lvovich. One day he was driving a car with a driver and was in a hurry. Suddenly on the road I saw a duck scurrying around near the drainage hatch. Mashkov asked to stop the car, quickly got out and understood everything – ducklings had fallen into the drain. Together with the driver, they began to pull out these ducklings, which turned out to be difficult. Those, frightened, did not give in, they were barely able to be collected. And they were waiting for him somewhere, but he called, rescheduled everything, ran to the store to get a net, and with his help, he and the driver somehow caught these ducklings and took them to the zoo. They brought them to the zoo, where they were told that they had enough of their own. And they went on to find homes for these ducklings.