Peter Buslov’s film Vysotsky: Thank God I’m Alive has now been widely released in Russia. This is the culmination of five years of work on the film and a major promotional campaign. Three decades have passed since the death of the legendary singer-songwriter, but he has not been forgotten by those born in the USSR. And even those born after his death can sing along to his songs. Vysotsky is a cult figure and interest in him is not waning with the passage of time.
But the type of interest can vary. This film, which was developed on the initiative of the management of Channel 1 and according to the scenario of the hero’s son Nikita Vysotsky, throws open the doors to the private chambers of the famous performer: come in, kind people, and take a look at what he was really like – your beloved one, your guru. He was addicted to drugs, lived with a young Muscovite while declaring his love for a Parisian; he was surrounded by various petty bastards and from time to time travelled about the country for unauthorized concerts, allowing all sorts of opportunists to make money off him. This perspective is one that very much matches with our times. The recollections of fellow actors and the analytical works of theater and film critics dedicated to Vysotsky as an actor and poet are not in demand these days. The masses can be attracted only by promising sensations and bedroom secrets. In most cases relatives and close friends speak out in opposition to such experiments, but here the story was created by an heir, which is strange and incomprehensible but something best left to the conscious of the son and screenplay author.
On multiple occasions the filmmakers emphasized that the film was “based on a true story.” One year prior to Vysostky’s death, he gave a concert in Bukhara, and there he had a heart attack – he survived clinical death. At that time he was already hooked on drugs and there was a sense that the end was near, but he continued on under the pressure of his pals and promoters, giving profitable concerts. Some ‘kind folk’ got Vysotsky hooked and then made their percentage off his popularity and dependability. They periodically whisper behind his back: ‘Got through another day, and that’s good. Thank God, he’s alive.’ The voyage to Bukhara was going according to plan…
In Bukhara it turns out that everything is controlled by some swindler named Fridman (this role is played by Dmitry Astrakhan, a film director here debuting as an actor): they are provided with luxury hotels rooms but the royalties will be cut according to his own rules. The touring team includes Doctor Nefedov (Andrei Panin) and a Seva Kulagin (Ivan Urgant), a stand-in who provides comic relief for the audience will the main act is recuperating behind the curtains. The drugs that singer needs are usually acquired from local first aid medical personnel. But in Bukhara this approach does not work, so they have to call up Tatiana, Vysotsky’s co-inhabitant in Moscow, to bring what is needed.
Played by Oksana Anishina, Tatiana, a devoted companion of the genius drug addict, is not a real life person (although there is a quite specific prototype for her) but rather an idealized lover. There are scenes which are truly laughable, for example, when the heroine wanders around Bukhara circa 1979 with almost no clothes on, having run away from the hotel in a moment of desperation and simple decides to walk along the ancient and sacred Islamic sites of the city…
Another matter is the image of Vysotsky, behind which it is not clear who stands. The filmmakers for a long time obfuscated, tossing about numerous versions: this is not just one actor, but several; not make up but a mask, and computer effects polished it off. And it is rather peculiar and unsettling: some sort of monster with an immovable putty face. And yet somehow under all this one can make out the actor Sergei Bezrukov. He is a talented imitator, but in this instance you cannot tell whether the actor is speaking or Vysotsky’s voice has been completely done by a computer. It is creepy when this ‘thing’ exists side-by-side with characters performed by recognizable actors.
A subplot about how the KGB carried out a massive undertaking to collect compromising materials on Vysotsky is worked into the retelling of the drug-laced touring days. Colonel Bekhteev (Andrei Smolyakov) in the Uzbek KGB office has some Mephistophelian characteristics. He takes Tatiana hostage after she brings some 40 ampoules of narcotics in a shoebox and plans to keep her locked up in Tashkent in order to ‘soften up’ Vysotsky in his dealings with KGB colleagues in Moscow. But the performer is quite charismatic and even colonels in the KGB are liable to fall under the influence of his personality. There is a conversation between Bekhteev and Vysotsky on what is the truth, and at one point the colonel rips up papers containing slanderous accusations against Vysotsky. This is quite laughable, aggrandizing and strange, particularly after the film has presented the audience with some fried-up details about the personal life of Vysotsky.
After watching the film, this is what came to mind: in their efforts to expose those who made money off the legend of Vysotsky, the authors of the film have in some respects become similar to those very same people. Nonetheless, for normal people this film will not add or take away anything from Vysotsky’s image. “No worries – the crown won’t fall,” Vysotsky said in the film in his dialogue with Colonel Bekhteev. And that’s for sure.
Daria Borisova
