In the spring of 1987, Soviet cinema held its breath. At the Odessa Film Studio, Georgy Yungvald-Khilkevich, a director with a reputation as a daring visionary, began work on a three-part film "The Prisoner of the Castle of If". To film The Count of Monte Cristo after the legendary Jean Marais was an act on the verge of creative suicide. But Khilkevich, co-authored with Mark Zakharov, was not going to follow the beaten path. He wanted to reveal the very nerve of Dumas's novel, to show not a glossy revenge, but the tragedy of a scorched soul. The result exceeded all expectations - the picture became a cult, and over time it was enveloped in a dense fog of mysticism and real human tragedies.
The main challenge was the image of Edmond Dantès. The Soviet viewer, fed on the French version, was waiting for an aristocratic handsome man. But Khilkevich was adamant. His logic was merciless: can a person who has spent 14 years in a stone sack come out of it even more beautiful than he was?
I was looking for a face that would carry a mystery, a whole biography. A face in which the abyss experienced in confinement would be read. It couldn't have been the cover face. A man of mystery was needed, a man of the abyss.
The solution came from the magazine "Theater". The photo of the actor of the Theater in the South-West Viktor Avilov in the role of Hamlet was a revelation for the director. "Chopped", asymmetrical, with a hypnotic look - this was the same face. Avilov, a former truck driver without an acting education, had incredible organics and inner strength. He was called the "axe man" for his sharp facial features, but in this "ugliness" there was a boundless male charm and power that could not be played by any recognized handsome Soviet cinema. He was real. And this authenticity became the key to the image.
Avilov's dedication on the set has become legendary. The most dangerous scene - throwing in a bag from the walls of the Château d'If - he performed himself. In the icy November water of the Mediterranean Sea, at a temperature of about +7 ° C. When the bag with the actor disappeared under water and did not appear for a long time, the film crew was on the verge of panic. But Avilov surfaced, having fulfilled all the instructions, proving that his character is not a role, but his own essence, ready to go through hell.
The story of Avilov's choice is a powerful lesson for everyone. In a world obsessed with glossy standards, real charisma and power are born from uniqueness, from the "cracks" and "scars" of our biography. Do not be afraid to be "uncomfortable", unformatted. It is your imperfection that can become your main trump card, just as Avilov's "chopped" face became the perfect face for the greatest avenger in the history of literature.
The search for Mercedes was no less dramatic. The director needed an actress, from one look at whom it would become clear why men were ready to kill and betray. After dozens of unsuccessful auditions, assistants sent to search in the provinces brought news of a certain Anna Samokhina from the Rostov Youth Theater. The most piquant thing was that this dazzling beauty in the theater played... Baba Yaga. Khilkevich was intrigued and immediately summoned her for an audition.
Samokhina burst into the pavilion, and, according to the director, "everyone was stunned." She read her monologue with such passion and anguish that the issue was resolved instantly. It combined the audacity of a street girl and the innate aristocracy of the future Countess de Morser. It was alive, real, and it was exactly what was needed.
An interesting fact: the role of the young Edmond Dantès and Albert de Morcer was played by Evgeny Dvorzhetsky, who was strikingly similar to Avilov in his youth. To enhance this effect, both the roles of the young Dantes and the mature count were voiced by Viktor Avilov himself, creating an inextricable link between the two hypostases of one person.
And Mikhail Boyarsky, who originally dreamed of the role of Monte Cristo, received an offer to play the antagonist, Fernand. And this was a brilliant decision. Boyarsky created not a cardboard villain, but a man blinded by a genuine, all-consuming passion. His Fernand is not just jealous - he loves Mercedes madly, and this love pushes him to crime. Perhaps this is one of the best dramatic roles of the famous "musketeer".
The filming was imbued not only with creative energy, but also with something otherworldly. Viktor Avilov, as it turned out, was not just an actor. Colleagues seriously talked about his psychic abilities: he was hypnotic and knew how to relieve pain with his hands. Anna Samokhina recalled how once on the set her back hurt unbearably from a heavy wig and a tight corset. Avilov approached, made a few passes with his hands over her head, and the pain instantly disappeared.
Passions boiled not only in the frame. A stormy romance broke out between Anna Samokhina and the performer of the role of de Villefort, Latvian actor Arnis Licitis, despite the fact that both were not free. This chemistry added even more nerve to the film.
But there were also truly frightening moments. In the scene of the fire, when Kadruss's wife was supposed to run out of the burning house, something went wrong. Stuntman Anatoly Groshevoy, dressed in a special suit, did not appear from the building engulfed in flames for too long. When he finally jumped out, engulfed in fire from head to toe, the firefighters rushed to him, but the director shouted: "Back! You will get into the frame!" Only after the command "Cut!" the burning stuntman was extinguished. He was alive, but the group survived a few minutes of real horror.
The film was released in 1989 and was a resounding success. But years later, he gained a reputation as "cursed". Too many stars of this picture passed away tragically early, in the prime of life.
This ominous list makes you think about the strange intertwining of art and life:
Should this be considered the "curse of the film" or a series of terrible coincidences? Yungvald-Khilkevich himself, who lived to be 78 years old, was skeptical about mysticism. But he recognized that the main theme of the novel - revenge - carries a destructive energy. Having reached the goal, the avenger is left with emptiness inside. His life, dedicated to retribution, loses its meaning.
The accomplished revenge brings euphoria only for a moment. And then a hangover comes. Life is over. The goal is no longer there. This is the main tragedy of Monte Cristo. He regained everything except one thing - stolen youth and the ability to just live and love.
And yet, the ending of the film gives hope. The Count's last phrase to Gaida: "Lord, thank you for giving me the opportunity to love again" is the key to everything. It says that even from the deepest abyss of despair and hatred, only love can pull a person out. It is not revenge, but the ability to open your heart to another person again, that brings you back to life. And this, perhaps, is the main secret that "The Prisoner of the Château d'If" left us - a film about a great tragedy and even greater hope.