“Inna Churikova everything came together, came true, responded”

Inna Churikova is that happy occasion, that exception, when God gave everything, poured it all into a heap, and she carried it all in herself, shed nothing, she gave everything to her Spectator. There are actresses who are doing great in the theater, the stage is sacred to them, but in the cinema it’s not the same, not like that, and not always. It happens the other way around. There are actresses who are filmed only with their husbands, directors, while others for some reason do not see them point-blank, they do not even invite them.

Everything came together with Inna Churikova, came true, responded. And at the theater with Zakharov, she is No. 1 prima, and in the cinema there is the wonderful Gleb Panfilov, who made her, but there are others, also magnificent, who have not seen, could not imagine their cinema without Churikova.

Here in Shakhnazarov’s “Courier”, which has been shown on TV so often in the last month. It was necessary to sing it the way she sang “And we are not dreaming of the roar of the cosmodrome”, without falling into a single note, so warmly, carefully laugh at both her heroine and herself, so that we would immediately see this woman, so kind and stupid, miserable. And natural. In just one song, the whole image, character, fate.

And another great film that has been shown several times recently is Adam’s Rib. She has three suitors there, three (!), and two daughters from these suitors, and a recumbent old mother, who once warded off these suitors, ruining her life … There Churikova is all so earthly, earthly … But she is so chic in her simplicity, so seductive, desirable … And you understand that three suitors, all as one, tenderly in love with her, this is not the limit.

And now Zhvanetsky. Die, you can’t say it better. He read this for the anniversary of Inna Mikhailovna and for his own anniversary, thus making a gift to himself. You need to know Zhvanetsky: responding to all the round dates, he could congratulate so ambiguously if you crossed paths with him on the same field. Inna Mikhailovna Churikova did not intersect with him in any way in her work, she was not a competitor, therefore Mikhail Mikhailovich gave her all his love, to the drop, without a trace. And all his sarcasm, but so kind, without impurities. Because Inna Mikhailovna, and only she, is worthy of this panegyric.

I don’t know anything better than Inna Mikhailovna Churikova on stage and in the hall. When she is in the hall, a special atmosphere forms on the stage. When she is on stage, a special atmosphere forms in the hall.

… This woman looks the way she wants, and even the way she is asked. No age, that’s all. And it wasn’t. Well, I was born like this. This lack of age and beauty from childhood taught her to decency, kindness and an amazing sense of humor – her own and others. There was nothing to loose. She recently acquired beauty. And with her, she acquired everything to the fullest extent. Inna Mikhailovna Churikova is becoming more and more seductive. Reincarnating, it falls into any age and into any sexuality. And not dreary: “So who will we go to – to you or to me?” And that higher one, when what we want is added to what we see. For when she enters the stage, talent separates from her and plays what he wants. Both we and she are watching this from the sidelines.

We remember former beauties. Those who not only withered, but went berserk, went out of order, lost their appearance, sobriety, and as a result ended up on the jury.

Innochka Mikhailovna is far from the jury, she pulls any film, pulls any performance, and all this – without knowing how she looks and when that which never began will end.

And to the question: “Inna Mikhailovna, how do you remember all these roles?” – she can answer: “I don’t remember them, I know them.”

“One Georgian, my friend”

And again “Culture”, New Year’s holidays. Repeat “Song-80”. “Vakhtang Kikabidze is speaking,” they announce. And he comes out: “My years, my wealth.” He was then 42 years old.

For this performance, he specially aged himself, grew a gray beard. “Let my head go gray …” Then they laughed so much at that song, in general, beautiful, wise and philosophical, they invented jokes. And Vakhtang Konstantinovich laughed, humor was his second nature, inalienable. And he did not like pathos.

… I was in Baku on the anniversary of Polad Bulbul ogly. The birthday boy gave a big concert with invited familiar guests. The entire former Soviet Union gathered. Sang Kikabidze. Unfortunately, I arrived a little late and missed this performance. But he was sitting in the hall, as it turned out, with his producer. He gave me his business card, so, for the future.

For my birthday, my relatives gave me a trip to Georgia. For a week. Yes, it was a dream. Because Dynamo Tbilisi. And because Kikabidze. And Mimino. And Georgians. Back in Moscow, I called the producer, he promised.

And now three hours by taxi from Tbilisi to Adzharia, where Vakhtang Konstantinovich was treated in a sanatorium. Surrounded by a wonderful lake. “He’s waiting for you in the dining room, come in.” I went. An elderly, very thin man is dining at a lonely table. gray-haired. At first I didn’t even recognize it, after all, that pilot (who is still sometimes an endocrinologist) from 1977 sits in my memory. The waiter brought food. I looked at him: dry, old man. But the eyes! His eyes betrayed him. Lights frolicked in them, and even with a cunning. Eyes laughed, sprinkled with irony, so sincere, sincere. He spoke quietly, slowly. He remembered.

Yes, before the meeting-interview I was told: just don’t talk about politics. Well, what does politics have to do with it when there is Mimino. The best film about the Soviet Union, those relations that can never be returned. The film is a joke, but so similar to a dream and the truth. After all, he, Buba, Mimino, Vakhtang – well, there is no dearer person. All politics will go away, Buba will stay. Because when he lived with us, it was happiness. And happiness cannot be betrayed.