Breakdown or rebellion? In terms of his psychotype, Yeltsin differed from the rest of the members of the Politburo. He is a man of non-speech culture, he was uncomfortable among craftsmen and talkers who had long settled down in Moscow. He wanted to dominate. But Yeltsin was not at the huge table of the secretariat of the Central Committee

"... A bunch of devoted artists formed around him, to whom he promised golden mountains of roles, careers! Careers! If ...

Taking advantage of the artists, a combination of circumstances, an intriguing and prudent mind, Chek floated to the surface - he managed to lead the theater of Satire. He fell into the arms of the Power. Power began to poison him imperceptibly, like carbon monoxide. A bunch of devoted artists turned into subjects. A subject is the root of the word tribute, which means under tribute.

Now, instead of friendship, someone brought a service to the office of the chief director, someone his own body, someone a ring with an emerald, a piece of chicken, gold earrings, a cake, a herring. They took everything with their green-eyed wife Zina - beads, smelt from Leningrad, cognac, bed linen, dumplings, cuts for dresses, vases, vases, saucepans, raw smoked sausage, a kettle with a whistle, rare books (after all, he is so intelligent, well-read!), cheese roquefort, cheddar, bay leaf, pickled cucumbers, soap, mushrooms and to all this, of course, vodka. All this was brought in order to get a role for all this! Rolka! Rollish! Rollish!

The authorities destroyed the Cheka every hour, every year, as compensation came material well-being: a huge three-room apartment, carpets, antique furniture - mahogany, Karelian birch, mirrors, chandeliers - all this replaced the mind and soul leaving the door.

Chekom developed a whole system of manipulating people. The authorities corrupted him, and he was offended that he was corrupted, while the rest were not! And in order not to feel alone, he corrupted all those who were nearby. It was more comfortable that way. For each artist, their own tactics of corruption were created: each had a sore spot. Corruption with denunciations, when they crawled into his office and denounced who slept with whom, who farted, who said what. Corruption by subservience - philanthropy, when they came, they bent in bows almost to the ground, smiling from ear to ear, "licked their ass," in the words of Maria Vladimirovna. "Well, you'd better dine with us at Stendhal's." This means red and black caviar. Corruption by gifts is the recognition of him as a deity in the act of sacrifice. Corruption by fornication - to hint at the role, and the actresses, pushing with their elbows, rush to the office, to the fourth floor, unbutton their fly, they did not even have time to get to the sofa.

In the granary book of memory was entered who brought what, to whom what to give, from whom what to take away. The actress brought a tribute, and she should be given a role in the ongoing performance instead of another artist. Dal. Played. Banquet to celebrate. Break through, win! And Chek screams in "righteous anger" for everyone to hear:
- I entrusted you with the role, I did more than I could! You failed! I'm filming you!
The role was selected, the subject with "broken wings" saved up strength and money for the next occasion - next time he will certainly cope!

And now, pushing each other with their elbows, Acrobat and Galosha, the new actresses of the theater, quickly ran to the fourth floor to the artistic director's office - whoever breaks in first will open the zipper in his fly and teleb the fact that there is nothing to telebunk. And for this they will get a role! role! Oh role! - this is the most important thing in that segment of life that stretches for people from childhood to old age ... if it stretches ... "

(Tatyana Egorova "Andrey Mironov and me")

“I KNOW MANY WHO SHIRVINDT CLAMPED, BUT WHY WOULD THIS LINGERIE BE SHOULDED OUT? ALL ALREADY OLD GRANDS..."

- It so happened that the fates of Papanov and Mironov, who played together on the stage and acted in films, were tragically intertwined, but Anatoly Dmitrievich's character was not easy?

- I think he was a difficult person, but a great actor. Only one phrase: "Well, hare, wait!" what is it worth?

- Did he not have jealousy for Andrei Mironov? Still, it seems to me that Pluchek, having two such wonderful actors, singled out Mironov more, he had some kind of paternal care for him ...

- Yes, it's true, but ... Once on television with Lena, Papanov's daughter, we met, and she complained: after all, you can’t compare, Andrei received as many roles as dad. I told her: “Lena, you work in the theater, and you must understand: Andrei is a hero, and your dad is a character actor, and they cannot play the same way.” She agreed: “Yes, it is!”.

- Do you think Pluchek had some kind of passion for Maria Vladimirovna Mironova at one time?

- No, what passion? Not!

And they didn't have anything?

- With Maria Vladimirovna? No, absolutely.

- People's Artist of the Soviet Union Georgy Menglet played many roles in the theater, but he avoided filming a movie that would bring him all-Union fame. Was he a strong artist?

- Awesome! Outstanding, completely unique, inhuman charm, and what a voice setting! At the end of the stage (we have a huge stage, you know) he stood by the curtain with his back to the audience ...

- ... and every word was well heard ...

- All 1200 spectators heard him, and now even on TV they sometimes say, and I don’t understand: what are they muttering there? Menglet is a school, responsibility (same as Andrey's). Here the military has the honor of a uniform, but he had the honor of talent - far from everyone has it.

- Let's move on to the current artistic director of the Theater of Satire Alexander Shirvindt ...

— (show applauds).

— Bravo talent? Bravo what?

Yes, that's me, ironic.

- Alexander Anatolyevich is a master of all trades: a director, a screenwriter, and a TV presenter, but what can you say about him as an actor?

- Shura is a good entertainer - amazingly witty ... He was! For the first time I saw him at the institute - when he came, we all, opening our mouths, looked at him and thought: where does such beauty come from?

Was he a handsome man?

— Oh, extraordinary! You've read my book - remember how gorgeous I described it? A copy of Michelangelo's "David", but about the rest ... His catchy appearance spoiled - he kept looking at himself: here, there, wrinkled his forehead - he knew that he was handsome, and in every respect he used it. On the radio, on television, tyr-pyr, but what about Andryushka? Here's a nose (shows - stretched out), his eyes are blue, his wrists are wide - healthy, like his mother's. It would seem, can he compete?

Did Shirvindt have an affair with Pluchek's wife?

- Yes you! - In my opinion, the word "romance" does not fit with him at all.

— But something, nevertheless, was?

- Alexander Anatolyevich could just pinch her somewhere for business - and that’s it: for business! Well, he could caress anyone he wanted, so to speak, if the interests of the case required it. I know many people he pinched, but why are you shaking out this linen here? All are already old grandmas - why compromise their poor?

"To the music of Mozart, the black-haired Count - Scharmer(Alexander Shirvindt. —D. G.)dressed in a brocade frock coat, white stockings were tight around his thin legs, on his head was a white wig with a bow in the tail. Of course, the eyes are summed up, the cilia are smeared, the nose is powdered. He's on stage. Three hours later, at the end of the action, everyone understood: Scharmer - the Count in the play "Figaro" failed miserably.

— Failure! Failure! He's untalented! Is it possible to compare with Gaft? This is some snot on the wattle fence! shouted all those who recently, reaching the point of insanity, admired him and rubbed sideways on his blue blazer-dressed torso.

On stage, in contrast to the swift, daring, smart Gaft, he was lazy, lethargic, pronouncing the text as if he was doing someone a favor. What to compare! Art Council headed by Chek(Valentin Pluchek. —D. G.)was silent. The check rang the keys, and the decision to remove Sharmer from this role hung in the air, but if Sharmer did not look very smart on stage, he took revenge in life.

After the performance, he immediately invited the chosen ones from the theater to his high-rise Stalinist building (vampire style) on Kotelnicheskaya Embankment. He rolled a banquet, pressed Zinka (he addressed everyone as you - you see, some complexes, and the wife of the main director, green-eyed Zina, from the first minute turned into Zinka for him) in a dark corner, rolled up her skirt, holding her chest with one hand , the other began to pull off her panties. Zinka was flattered, discouraged, giggling like a fool, every now and then she lifted her panties back until someone came in and invited them to the table. Both, pleased with such a course of affairs, straightened their shorts and hairstyles, and the inspired Zina Pluchek, starting dessert, casually thought: “Why do I need this dessert? I am ready to change everything, even this dessert for Sharmer and sit right on this table in front of everyone with him in the form of a sandwich.

Her desire could immediately materialize, as temperament and hooliganism lurked in her: once, in a trolley bus full of people, while still young, she knocked over a can of sour cream, which she had just acquired, on the head of her alleged rival.

But Sharmer, unfortunately, only had to retouch his failure, and removing and lifting Zinka's underwear served him only as a means of rehabilitation. What cynical men, however!

In the evening, everyone ate themselves to the bone, heard enough of his swear words, Zinka felt desired twice more, so much so that the elastic band in her shorts burst, and the next day it sounded in the theater: “Sharmer's introduction to the role of the Count is magnificent! He is a real Count - both in life and on stage. They even gave him a cash prize.

Time passed, on stage in the role of Count Scharmer became impudent, and this impudence, combined with Michelangelo's beauty, began to be accepted by the viewer. So, with the help of Zinka's underpants and breasts, he fit into the role of the leading theater artist.

He fit in, but something strange began to happen in him, something that he did not expect. No woman has ever refused him, he has always been the first, best and most beautiful, but this is in a different theater, and here on the stage next to him he fluttered in rapture, tearing off applause at almost every phrase, not so handsome, blond, with strong peasant hands and feet, with a long nose and bulging eyes Andrei Mironov. Scharmer felt, as a woman feels, that he is not loved, not loved as much as this fair-haired Andryushka.

Poor Scharmer's chest ached due to nerves, and in the backstage of the soul, in an evening dress, in golden gloves, Envy was born and immediately declared itself. In the evening, because the parent cannot see her in the darkness and you can pretend that she is not there, but golden gloves, so that in a fit of envy, the opponent will be strangled with the color of gold, leaving no traces.

... I was again sitting in the bathroom in Andrey's room, he was doing his favorite thing - rubbing me with a washcloth, washing my hair with shampoo and wiping dry, and then we changed places - I rubbed him with a washcloth and poured shampoo on his luxurious hair. She went into the room, completely naked, for a towel - it remained on the chair - and spotted "reconnaissance": outside the window of the room, falling out of the human form and from the territory of her balcony at the same time, the face of Gherkin loomed(Mikhail Derzhavin. —D. G.). He listened intently and peered into everything that was happening in Mironov's room.

- Andryushenka! Bunin! Bunin! We must immediately read Bunin!

And we read Lika.

- What happened to you? he asked me, seeing how a cloud suddenly rolled over me. From Bunin, I was transported into my life, began to cry, then sobbed and said through tears:

"I can't forget anything!" I can't forget this story with the child... how I was lying on this table... and you... betrayed me then... I can't... and now you betrayed me...

“Tunechka, I don’t know what to think ... you yourself are always running from me ...

- Because I'm afraid, I already have the reflex of Pavlov's dog ...

“Tunechka, you left me yourself, and if we are together, you will hate me and leave me again ... I can’t suffer like this anymore ... We still love each other ... Who will take us away from us ...

The long distance phone rang. Singer(Larisa Golubkina. — D. G.).

- I do not have time! Andrey answered her sharply and rudely.

And we again dug into the book. As I left, I said:

You shouldn't talk to the woman you live with like that. call back.

The next day he came up to me and reported: "I called back." After the performances, we went to mountain restaurants, to villages, swam in the pool at Medeo at night, took a steam bath and completely disconnected from Moscow life. Sharmer(Alexander Shirvindt. —D. G.)noticed all this, sniffed out and tried to drive a wedge into our relationship. It was a typical Shvabrin from Pushkin's The Captain's Daughter.

“Tanya,” a pale Andrei once approached me, “you can’t act like that and you can’t say such a thing!”

I quickly found out what was the matter, and realized that this was the low intrigue of the envious Sharmer.

A slender woman walks along the corridor of the hotel in high heels(Lilia Sharapova. —D. G.)I take her hand and say:

"Now you're coming with me!"

- Where?

- You'll see!

We enter Sharmer's room. He lies under a white sheet. Evening. On the bedside table is a bottle of cognac and glasses. A tornado is raging inside me. I sit down next to the chair at the head. Slender - against the wall in an armchair, at the end of the bed. In the legs

“You are a dishonorable person,” I begin calmly. “Even though you put on a kind mask, the horns are showing through. Oh, you're not good! Your beloved envy, and what terrible deeds it pushes you to! You are both an asshole, Iago, and a scoundrel.

He lies under the white sheet like a wrapped dead man, and not a single vein moves in his face.

- You are not only a scoundrel - you are a moral cheater. How you hate Andrei, you envy! This is a no-brainer - you solder it, you tune it. You have a lot of ears on your head.

The slender, nervous one constantly blinks her eyes - she has a tick.

“In general, the diagnosis,” I continue, “is a gelatinous bastard!”

Sharmer doesn't move. I go to the table, take a large vase of flowers from it and throw it through the open balcony door to the street. I sit down on a chair. He doesn't react. Knock on the door. Street cleaner:

- Is it a vase that has just flown out of your room?

- Yes, what are you? I answer. We have a patient here, we visit him.

The janitor leaves. I suggest:

- Let's have a drink! For dr-r-r-r-zhbu, according to the anpeshechka! You love cognac! - And I pour us half a glass of cognac.

- Let's go crazy! He takes the glass, I continue. - When they clink glasses, you have to look into the eyes, you insignificance! And she splashed brandy in his face.

He jumped out of bed, completely naked, shouting: “I got it in my eyes! Eyes!" - and run to the bathroom to wash your eyes splashed with cognac with cold water.

A minute later, like a wounded boar, he jumped into the room, grabbed me, threw me on the bed and began to choke me. The hotel rooms are tiny, so, bending down and grabbing my neck, he involuntarily ran his bare ass over Slender's nose.

Completely unsuffocated, I lay on the bed, laughing and saying:

“You can’t choke at all!” What weak hands you have!

He, of course, tore all the trinkets hanging around my neck, I hardly collected the remnants and, leaving, casually remarked:

By the way, why did I come? I completely forgot ... I shouldn't spoil my life and do nasty things. With me it's dangerous - I have nothing to lose.

We went out. Slender leaned against the wall of the corridor, completely dumbfounded.

“WHEN ANDREY WAS VERY ill, HE TURNED TO A FRIEND ZAKHAROV: “MARK, I CAN’T DO ANY MORE - TAKE ME TO YOUR THEATER.” THAT: "Well, let's go," AND TWO MONTHS AFTER TWO MONTHS STUNNED: "EVERYTHING IS CANCELLED." WIFE INFLUENCED HIM ... "

- What can you say about Shir-wind-ta's permanent partner, Mikhail Derzhavin?

Misha is a good actor and a nice person. Yes!

- Going through the names of your colleagues, whom the entire Soviet Union knew, it is impossible not to mention Spartak Mishulin, and why did his fate not work out in the theater?

- He (I don’t want to say so, but I reason to the best of my understanding, I may not be right) had some kind of appearance, some special type, but he played brilliantly in The Kid and Carlson. In the role of Carlson, he is simply outstanding, but everything else ... As soon as the triumph of Figaro began, Andryusha lost his voice, and Pluchek Mironov scared: “I will replace you with Mishulin!” Well, joke! I respect everyone, but I don’t understand Spartak - there is no type there, there is a person between some chairs.

Tatyana Vasilyeva (Marya Antonovna) and Andrey Mironov (Khlestakov) in the performance of the Theater of Satire "Inspector General"

- Your classmate Natalya Selezneva had a very successful film career ...

- ... yes, well, of course! ..

- ... but was it in demand in the theater?

- Also with great difficulty. Natasha is witty, enterprising: a charming creature. Despite the fact that it can also be different, like all of us ... I adore her - we rarely call each other, but when it happens, she says: "Tanyulka, I love you." - “And I love you, Natulik,” I answer.

- You spoke very interestingly about Mark Zakharov, whom you respectfully dubbed Master in your book. When he headed Lenkom, Andrei Mironov probably wanted to go to the theater to him - why didn’t Zakharov make some kind of oncoming movement? They were close friends...

- We were shocked that Mark Anatolyevich did not make an oncoming movement to anyone, he left all of us on this “battle on the ice”. We were his actors, for which Pluchek ate us later, but Andrei, when he became very ill, when Itsykovich ( maiden name Vasilyeva. — Note. ed.) with its 45th size in the theater stepped on everyone ...

- Tatyana Vasilyeva, in the sense?

- Yes, Tanya Vasilyeva! No one played anything, no one could tell her anything - everyone was afraid.

- That is, the favorite, in fact, led the theater?

- Yes: everything is her, everything is her ... Pregnant at the ninth month in "Woe from Wit" played Sophia - it's generally incomprehensible to the mind, but it was, and Andrei turned to a friend with a request: "Mark, I can't take it anymore - take it me to my theater." He: "Come on!" We sat and thought: "We'll make a new play about Cromwell." Andrei immediately lit up, his eyes lit up ... He called Mark every day, and two months later Zakharov stunned him: "Calm down, I'm not taking you to the theater - everything is canceled."

"Without explaining why?"

— (shakes head negatively).

- Do you yourself guess why he backed up?

- Nina, his wife, influenced him, as she always does ( Nina Lapshinova passed away in August 2014. —D. G.), she tells him what to do, what not to do, and he obeys her. And then she said: “Why do you need this? He is famous, he will have the right to download, and then you will not be in charge - you will have dual power. I think it was like that.

From the book of Tatyana Egorova "Andrey Mironov and I".

“The rehearsals of Profitable Place began - from the first day we immediately became very important and significant. master (Mark Zakharov. —D. G.) prudently remembered our names and addressed everyone by their first and patronymic names: Tatyana Nikolaevna, Andrey Alexandrovich, Natalya Vladimirovna - he propped us up with the tribal strength of our fathers. For the first rehearsal, he brought a pack of drawings on whatman paper. These were sketches of mise-en-scenes for each piece of the performance. Wasting no time, from the beginning of rehearsals, he clearly defined who was standing where, in what position, where he was going and what was the meaning of the scene.

Twice he did not repeat, being late for a rehearsal was punished with strict measures. Party secretary Tatyana Ivanovna Peltzer, who played the role of Kukushkina, a people's artist, was known for her bad temper and the fact that she never came on time. On her third delay, the Master stood up and calmly said:

- Tatyana Ivanovna, you are late for the third time ... I ask you to leave the rehearsal.

No one had ever spoken to her like that before, and she slammed the door cursing and went to run into the young director with a locomotive: she immediately wrote a statement to the party committee that the Master was staging an anti-Soviet performance and that maybe he was an agent of foreign intelligence. SOS! Take action! For the sake of the Fatherland!”.

To all this mental damage, the Master calmly declared:

Everything real is given with blood!

In 10 years, Peltzer, who has already given her heart to the creator of Profitable Place, will rehearse Woe from Wit with Check (Valentin Pluchek). Check, sitting in the hall, not without sadistic considerations, will ask her to dance. She will say: "Another time, I feel bad." “Not another time, but now,” the Check will demand from the old woman with anger. On the stage, not far from Tatyana Ivanovna, there was a microphone. She went up to him, paused, and barked loudly to the whole theatre:

“Fuck you… you old debauchee!”

In the hall sat the new favorite of the libertine. The theater was radio-equipped, and in all the dressing rooms, in the accounting department, in the cafeteria, in the directorate, a powerful echo resounded: "Fuck you... you old libertine!" In two days she will call me at home, change hooliganism to pity:

Tan, what should I do? Should I go to the Master in the theater or not?

By this time, the Master already had his own theater.

- Does he take it? I will ask.

— Beret!

"Then run, don't walk!" You will save your own life!

And she left. And she lived a happy long life there. In love.

...Opposite the Theater of Satire was the building of the Sovremennik Theater. Between the theaters there is an unspoken competition, who has more viewers. In Sovremennik, Andrey and I watched a lot of performances with Oleg Tabakov, and he constantly hammered me:

- Am I no worse an artist than Tabakov? Well, tell me, tell me! - Childishly asking for a compliment.

“Well, of course, it’s better—that’s a no-brainer,” I said sincerely. “Look, for the first time in the history of the theater, we have mounted police at the Profitable Place, and they have an ordinary crowd.

Finally, the performance was over. Check (Valentin Pluchek. — D. G.) asked all the artists, without undressing and without making up, into the hall. He was shocked.

Today a brilliant director was born. master (Mark Zakharov. —D. G.), run for champagne.

On this day, we could not come to our senses for a long time and until the evening we walked around the floors of the theater with glasses and bottles of champagne. Me and Ingenue (Natalia Zashchipina. — D. G.) sat in the dressing room, recalled bows at the end of the performance. They went out to bow to the fore, holding hands: in the middle is Zhorik Menglet, on the left I, on the right Ingenue and further along the chain the rest of the actors. The moment of bowing is a vivid emotional experience: there is a knocking in the temples, all the veins are filled with pathos from involvement in the great happening. Moving towards the proscenium, Zhorik (George Menglet. — D. G.) tightly clasped our hands with Ingenue and on a dazzling smile addressed to the audience, smuggled poetry to us:

Damn girls, I'm your uncle

You are my nieces.

Come, girls, to the bath

Soar my eggs!

master (Mark Zakharov. — D. G.) and could not imagine at whom he had thrown an arrow with the "Profitable Place" - a white-green liquid flowed from the wound inflicted on him. He was in pain! It hurts, it hurts, it hurts! Get rid of the Magister and his damned show, or he'll get rid of me and take my place! And then Peltzer herself, unwillingly, prompted the move: an anti-Soviet performance! This statement is in the party bureau, and although she is now trembling with love for the Master, the job is done, you just need to finish it - copy the letter and send it to the authorities. The authorities love such letters, they call it informing, and the authorities were informed.

Two weeks later, in the third row, a chain of monsters headed by Furtseva, the Minister of Culture, came to the "Profitable Place": they sat with Ostrovsky's plays open and checked the text.

- Well, it can’t be that because of the textbook Ostrovsky people “hung on a chandelier”? The intrigues of the anti-Soviet: you see, they attributed something themselves, - the censors realized.

And on the stage, the artists, looking at the delegation through the cracks in the wings, recited poems:

I'm not afraid of Khrushchev

I'm marrying Furtseva.

I will feel boobs

the most Marxist!

Not finding a single superfluous word in the play, Furtseva left with Marxist boobs, completely puzzled.

“WITH SHIRVINDT WE NOW AT THE MEETING WE greet, HE IS TRYING TO KISS ME. FINE..."

- Your sensational book "Andrey Mironov and I" with a circulation of three million copies came out - a fantastic success for any, even an outstanding writer. I confess to you: when I read it, at some moments there were simply tears in my eyes - it was written so sincerely and with such literary talent that even your ill-wishers cannot but admit it ...

- Thanks.

- I quite frankly said this to Shirvindt, and Aroseva, and Selezneva, and two Vasilyevs - Vera Kuzminichna and Tatyana. Tell me, when the book was already out, did you feel joy, relief at the thought that the burden of memories had been dropped?

- Firstly, I must emphasize: these are not memoirs, they are not written like that. So you read the book - did you understand that this is not a memoir in style?

Of course, it's a work of art...

- A novel - you can call it documentary, you can call it something else ... The name "Andrey Mironov and I" is not mine - my publisher came up with it, who found me in the apartment of my friend Irina Nikolaevna Sakharova, Andrei Dmitrievich's cousin. I came to have dinner with her in the evening - we loved to communicate and, in order not to go anywhere at night, we often spent the night together. And here we are sitting quietly, suddenly the phone rings. She fits. “Egorov,” they ask, “may I? I was told that you have it” - can you imagine? How did he find me? Then in Moscow it was possible to find out from people where a person is.

It was 1997, and it just fell on me from the sky - he gave me the task to write one chapter. When it was ready, I read it, counted 300 dollars to me and said: “Go to work!”. That's all. This book, perhaps naively, I called "Rehearsal of Love" - ​​the theater after all ...

- Unsellable title...

- Yes? And the publishing house needs to make money. Farther. I gave nicknames to all the characters - the same brains can be broken in order to come up with nicknames for them, and the publisher took and deciphered them. And he did the right thing, actually - why is it necessary: ​​to guess who is who?

- Maria Vladimirovna Mironova had already passed away by that time, but how, in your opinion, would she have reacted to this book?

“I think it's amazing—I'm sure she'd be pleased. They are all happy there and help me a lot - they took my husband Seryozha and sent me here. And they sent you - everything comes from them.

How did your colleagues in the theater react to the release of the book?

- Who's like...

- Shirvindt, for example?

- He shouted: “Do not read it - it is so bad! Oh, horror! Do not read, do not read! ”, And now we greet him when we meet, he is trying to kiss me. It's fine... I'm not angry with him for anything, I'm already philosophical about it - I repeat, I'm in an ivory tower.

- Did Pluchek, 90 years old at that time, read your work?

- Yes. He was in the sanatorium "Sosny" then, so not only was the book sent to him immediately, but all the places concerning him were underlined.

- That is, someone was not lazy?

- Well, you yourself understand who - the one who wanted to become the main one. I thought, probably: maybe Pluchek would shy away something. Valentin Nikolayevich didn’t go then, but then - lo and behold! O great power of art! - they called me and said: “Pluchek read everything and came to the theater with his own feet. Without a stick ... ".

“He didn’t tell you anything about your revelations?”

- I don’t, but I told the actor with whom I rehearsed. There they had a short break, they sat down with him, and Pluchek said: “And everything that Tanya Egorova wrote is true.”

- Actors, especially actresses, discussed your bestseller among themselves? Did any waves hit you?

“Everyone doesn’t like it, because ... My God, the reason is the same: you got the role - they envy you, you play well - they envy you, you wrote a book - they envy you, you bought a fur coat - they envy you. Well, what can you do? I don't react to this.

Have you ever regretted writing this confession?

— No, I fulfilled Andrey's request. He said: "Tanya, write the whole truth - you know how," and back in the 80s I had such an idea. With my friend Valya Titova...

- ... the ex-wife of Vladimir Basov ...

- ... and cameraman Georgy Rerberg, we somehow decided to bury two bottles of champagne in the ground by the year 2000 (for some reason we thought that by this time there would be no life at all - everything would disappear, explode, and so on). And then, in the 80s, when everyone was burying ...

- ... they buried everything! ..

- No, only champagne - in general, they imagined that we would drink it and die. For some reason, we had such a gloomy mood ...

- How strange two beautiful actresses were having fun ...

— Yes, mischief-makers! - and then I thought: I need to write a book by the end of the century. The century itself asks me about it - such thoughts wandered in my head. As you can see, I wrote...

- Have you dug up the champagne?

- One bottle only - the second, apparently, has gone very far somewhere.

“I SAID TO MARIA VLADIMIROVNA: “LEVE THE COTTAGE TO MASHA, BECAUSE THEY DID NOTHING FOR HER. YOU SHOULD ANSWER AT THE TERRIBLE JUDGMENT - WILL YOU SAY IT?

- Andrei Alexandrovich has a daughter, Maria Mironova, left ...

- And the second - Masha Golubkina.

- Both Masha, native and adopted, are actresses: are they, in your opinion, talented?

— Oh, you know, it's hard to say. I saw Masha Mironova at Mark Zakharov's theater, I liked her, but I need a director, and so, alone, what can an actress do?

Does she honor her father's memory?

- Another generation honors, then another, but this ... You see, there is mother’s influence: Andrey is such and such, and Maria Vladimirovna was bad - she judges by how she was treated. The daughter did not see her father much - this is also Maria Vladimirovna's fault. I told her: “Leave Masha’s dacha, because nothing has been done for her. To answer you at the Last Judgment - what do you say? “I went on stage all the time - for me it was the most important thing”?

From the book of Tatyana Egorova "Andrey Mironov and I".

“Mashka called! Granddaughter! Maria Vladimirovna says mysteriously. - He will come now.

On her impassive face there is a look of fright - she has not seen her granddaughter for several years.

Doorbell. A spectacular thin tall young lady with long white hair enters. Smiled - a copy of Andrei! In a mink swinger coat, jeans fit beautiful long legs. Immediately rolled two years old and the great-grandson of Maria Vladimirovna - Andrei Mironov. During her absence, Masha managed to give birth to a son, gave him her father's name and surname, got married, is about to graduate from the Institute of Cinematography, and will be an artist.

Undressed. Marya sits "in the books", as usual, with a net on her head, in a quilted dressing gown and all in red spots from excitement. He stares at the baby intently, like an x-ray, and he immediately rushed to her and kissed her hand. Kissed, again, and again, and again. Looking at this, I thought that Marya would really fly out into some kind of pipe. Then the baby began to run around the apartment, fell with pleasure on the carpet near the great-grandmother, began to wallow on it, and when he saw a huge mirror to the floor in the hallway, he began to lick it with his tongue. The sinuous eyebrows of Maria Vladimirovna began to resemble the Mannerheim line.

— Ah! Masha exclaimed. - I need to call.

Grandmother nodded her eyes at the telephone standing nearby, but Masha went to the locker room, took out a walkie-talkie from her fur coat pocket, and began to call.

“No, it’s demagnetized,” she said, immediately taking another phone out of another pocket, pressing and pressing buttons, uttering two or three words and putting the phone back into the pocket of her fur coat. Sat on a chair. Grandmother and great-grandmother looked at the “young unknown” generation with great amazement.

“We are currently renovating the apartment,” Masha said, not paying attention to her son, who had already licked two square meters of the mirror.

- What bathroom do you have? I asked Masha to keep up the conversation.

“I have a jacuzzi,” Masha answered.

Maria Vladimirovna shuddered. And suddenly she asked point-blank:

- Why did you come to me? Better just tell me what you need from me?

Masha relieved stress, took out a mountain of food, gifts from her bag, laid everything on the table and said:

- Grandma, I'll call and come by.

— How will you go? I asked her because I had to leave too.

- I? On the BMW, like dad!

She put on a mink swinger, and she and Andryushka fluttered out the door.

- Have you seen? - began to furiously comment on the arrival of her granddaughter Marya. — Phone in your pocket! Fuck the phone! And this one licked the whole mirror! I have never seen anything like this. Did you hear what kind of bathroom she has there?

— Jacuzzi.

- Assholes! - Marya changed it, dumbfounded by the arrival of her relatives, and thought hard.

- Tanya, to whom should I leave the dacha, the apartment? If I die, can you imagine what will happen here? Everything will go under the hammer! For rags and bags. I can't see these women! she continued furiously.

She always had invisible informants, and she, as a scout, knew everything about everyone, especially about the wives she hated.

Mermaid (Ekaterina Gradova.— D. G.) I sold my mother’s apartment,” she continued. - With this money I bought myself a fur coat, married this mother - that's what she needs! - shoved into a nursing home. BUT? Good daughter! And now dyed into a praying mantis. Terrible people. Mummers. A Pevunya (Larisa Golubkina. — D. G.)? Did you see her thumb on her hand? Do you know what that means?

“I saw it and I know it,” I said, and gasped inwardly. How does she, Marya, know about the thumb? It was I who went through all the books on palmistry, but she? Well partisan!

She sits all red, her blood pressure has risen, and she is at a loss: how to dispose of her property?

- So, Maria Vladimirovna, so that you do not suffer, I suggest you: leave this apartment to the museum. You already have a sign on the door. There will be memory, and this memory will be guarded. And you don’t have to give anything to anyone with “warm hands” - live out your life in peace in your house, and then they will arrange a museum there.

Her eyes sparkled: oh, how she liked this idea!

- And the dacha? she boomed. - To whom? Let me leave you.

It would be very helpful. I would sell it, because I can’t pull it out, and in my old age I would have money for all my ordeals. And I would go to Thailand, to India, to South America to the Aztecs, to Greece. I would buy myself brushes, canvases, stretch them on stretchers and begin to paint pictures! And most importantly - there are strawberries all year round! - flashed through my head, and my friend Seneca appeared on the stage of my fantasies:

- How many times do you have to tell? he got offended at me. “Life should be lived right, not long.

"Maria Vladimirovna," I began, "leave the dacha to Masha, she's Andrey's daughter." This is a family estate, and Andryusha would like that. After all, he loved her very much - I know, and he didn’t give so much, he lived in another family. She suffered so much, because her whole life passed in front of my eyes in the theater, I even saw how they carried her out of the hospital. And you need it! After all, you did nothing for her, only the theater was always important for you. Thank God, Menaker met - he gave you his life ...

— Yes, he was the main artistic director of my life. Oh, Sasha, Sasha! .. - And tears appeared in her eyes.

- What about me? I have my own cottage. I built it myself - why do I need someone else's? It just so happens that she herself is all with her hump, and the Gospel says: enter through the narrow gate, narrow. Why do you think?

Maria Vladimirovna thought for a moment and answered:

- So that no one passes with me, so that only I enter! she interpreted the gospel parable in her own way.

... In the Kremlin, President Yeltsin awarded her with the Order of Merit for the Fatherland - she cheerfully went to the podium and said:

“I divide this award into three - for myself, for my husband and for my son!”

- To whom, as a result, did Mironova leave the dacha?

- Masha, but she sold it.

- Does the daughter come to the grave of her father?

- Once I saw her there, but in general, they rarely come. Few people go there - my husband and I visit ( his husband, his wife, journalist Sergey She-le-khov, died in 2014. — Note. ed.).

- Few people go?

- People visit, but these, from among, so to speak, relatives who supposedly love and revere him ... Great friends, the best, do not appear there. Yes, listen, I have to tell the theater artists all the time what is happening at the Vagankovsky cemetery. So I was at the grave of Maria Vladimirovna on November 13, I passed Pluchek’s grave, and there was a mountain of slops, rotten flowers (the 100th anniversary was celebrated, and then it rained). It was all so terrible - and I was walking with a bucket and a rag - that, forgetting about everything, I began to put garbage in a bucket, into containers. I couldn't get past you, you know? Kornienko said: “He made a career for you - for what, you yourself know, but not for me - well, at least once a month go to the grave.”

In general, the theater should do this - some person needs to be hired, and he will look after the graves. It is very inexpensive, but no, they don’t consider it necessary, and the theater could also take care of Andryushin’s grave. Never what you! You should have seen what flowers they brought to him on the day of the 25th anniversary of his flight into another life. Ouch (laughs) don't be so sad!

- Well, I'll tell you, it's not fun ...

- But other good flowers bring, and "friends" from the theater will be responsible for this: they will pay for their actions, and I - for mine. Before, I didn’t realize that I was doing a bad deed, but the further, the more clearly I understand that I did this badly, this, that is, the process is going on, something is happening in my soul.

“With ANDRYUSHA I WAS A HUGE WAY AFTER HIS DEATH. FOR YEARS, PROBABLY, TWO OR THREE EVERY DAY IN A DREAM I SAW IT ... "

- You starred in 25 films, played a lot on stage, and today what are you doing?

- Now, before your arrival, I was invited to one project, and for probably 10 days I thought about it, but yesterday I refused - not mine! Well, actually, I write. I have a very beautiful house that I adore, an apartment and a dacha, all in flowers. I did everything there myself and I pray every day: “Oh, my roses! Lord, help me, just so that they don’t freeze. ”

Are you happy married?

- Yes. Rare case...

- Is your husband sympathetic to the fact that Andrei Mironov is still in your heart, is he not jealous of him, already dead?

- No - he also had some events before me, there were meetings. It is impossible to uproot, burn it out with a red-hot iron - let everyone have their own past.

- Do you have any of Andrey's things?

- Well, yes, I have his baby lock - Maria Vladimirovna gave. Somehow it comes out of the box. “Here,” he says, “Andryushin: he was so white.” I begged: "Mary Vladimirovna, give me a gift." There are his letters, a sweater, and also a constant feeling of caring for me. (wipes away a tear). Oh, then I laugh, then I cry - that's crazy!

- You have repeatedly admitted that your life is shrouded in mysticism - how is this expressed?

- Today Katya Gradova dreamed about me with some two little girls - I still don’t understand what it is, what it is for. I told her, "One looks like you, and the other looks like someone else." Mysticism is premonitions: for example, I know that I never need to break down on doors. It happens that you do something, but nothing works out, which means that I tell myself, I don’t need to go there. It will come from the other side - you need to study yourself and, so to speak, your place in this world: why am I here, what affects me and what does not, how to act.

With Andryusha, I went a long way after his death. For probably two or three years I saw him every day in a dream, and then he came to me in a shirt - pretty, clean, in a leather jacket: completely different from what he used to be. I just had the feeling that he was pulled out from somewhere, and he asked: “Did you bring me a book?” Can you imagine? Like this! - and then I think: maybe this is a book for the Last Judgment? Everyone is sitting there with the Book of Life.

- Andrei Mironov, I know, said: “God will punish me for Tanechka” - what did he mean?

You see, he was such a person. For the first time I heard from him: “Today my mother and I were taking out the shroud.” Lord, I thought, what is this? Well, neither the Bible, nor the Gospel - they knew nothing, dark people - how can you live like that? Just plant everyone, plant and plant ... Against the wall, right?

- It's sacred!

- And Maria Vladimirovna was born in 1910, and her parents were very religious, strong, wealthy. She got used to it, she grew up in such an atmosphere, and then the Civil War, the New Economic Policy, repressions, war, and so on passed. She was surrounded by different people: believers, non-believers, although what did they, brought up in atheism, know about faith? No one understood anything, and then the removal of the shroud, Good Friday ...

At Easter, they always had Easter cakes at home, they had colored eggs - even though everything here burns with a blue flame! In the year of her death, Maria Vladimirovna asked me: “Well, shall we go to church for Easter?” I ran during the day - I looked for which one was closer, because I had to choose according to the distance, and so we went. She just hung on me - I didn’t know how to keep her, and if it weren’t for my willpower ... Maria Vladimirovna met the last Easter, but I don’t know where everyone else was at that time (this is my malice).

- So many years have passed since the death of Andrei Mironov ...

Turned 28 in August.

- What do you think of him today, from the height of the past years, from such a temporary distance? What has love for him become in your life?

- You know, this was mysticism - as if some forces specifically pushed me into this theater so that Andryusha and I could meet and live some kind of enchanting, surprisingly tender life with him. For another, this might be a passing episode, but for us ... Even one word was happiness, attention, a phone call, a Charcot shower ...

— ... punch in the nose ...

And a blow to the nose too. There were a lot of things: cutlets for 17 kopecks, reading Doctor Zhivago ... I taught him to love poetry: he didn’t know them very well, but I, a poetic creature, did. I also had my own verses. Andrei said: “Tanya, read it to me,” and then he began to read. And Pushkin: “My angel, I am not worthy of love! But pretend!..”, and Pasternak dedicated all this to me.

We gathered in the house of Tanya and Igor Kvasha - there were a lot of people there, everyone was telling something, expressing themselves. Youth, interesting, but I read poetry: I was so delighted with life - as in the paintings of Chagall, I flew.

“And even now you are delighted with life - it’s not for nothing that your beautiful eyes are wide open and shining ...

- Oh, well, listen. Somehow Andryusha felt embarrassed that I was reading poetry, but he was not. By nature, he was competitive, and suddenly he sits down at the piano: "I composed a song for you, Tyunechka." He plays and sings: "... we will take our bitch and each other by the hand and go ...", and I sit and cry with happiness. I kept saying that my tears were close, and Maria Vladimirovna immediately picked up: "But I'm far away." Later I told her about this song and all lamented: “How did you not write it down?”. I usually write everything down, but here I didn’t bother - why, Lord? I know that you can’t rely on memory, you have to keep everything on a pencil, and suddenly Maria Vladimirovna says: “Tanya, Vertinsky has come out, a very good book. Run to the Kropotkinskaya metro station - buy it for me and for yourself. I come running - here next to me, she sits down to read, so do I, and suddenly I turn around ... Do you already understand?

- Yes!

- In general, my tears, like a clown, splash. She asks: “Are you crazy?”, And I: “Maria Vladimirovna, how he deceived me! He said that he wrote this song to me, and she wrote Vertinsky. Andryusha rummaged through his father's notes and stole it: he sang to me ... and never confessed.

- I will ask you the last question: do you still love Andrei Alexandrovich?

- Well, how about - where will it all go, how can you forget it? But I live happily - not like in the first years without him. Before you go to the cemetery - you are 46 years old, and back - 82 or 92 years old, your legs do not carry, but now you are already used to it. There, people gather there, some poets read poetry ... Anyway, my eyes are always wet: both Maria Vladimirovna is dear there, and Andryusha. Well, what will you do? - You need to clean up the grave. Maria Vladimirovna did it excellently - and she went to Menaker, and to Andrey, there is not the case that they buried and forgot - she had everything under control.

Thank God I'm all right. To do this, you have to live, because it's scary to think! no one will come...