Why Mark Zakharov Didn't Film Nikolai Karachentsov: The Mystery of the Great Duo

A riddle. One of those amazing oddities that are right in front of our eyes, but we don't notice them at all. Do you know that feeling? When you rewatch your favorite movie for the hundredth time, you know every intonation by heart, but suddenly you realize a gaping void. And you ask yourself: where is he?

Yes, we are talking about Nikolai Karachentsov. A man of nerve, the voice of an entire era, an absolute superstar. Not every viewer noticed the striking fact: Karachentsov practically did not star in Mark Zakharov's films. And this is, perhaps, one of the most beautiful and sad mysteries of Soviet cinema.

To understand the full depth of this paradox, you need to rewind time a little. To the point where their destinies intertwined. The fact is that it was Zakharov, coming to the Lenin Komsomol Theater, who drastically changed the actor's life. Before this fateful moment, Karachentsov spent 7 long years in supporting roles, delivering endless theatrical "dinner is served." And then - a sudden, like an electric shock, the director's choice: the main role in the play "Thyl Ulenspiegel" (1974).

It was an explosion. It was then, in one evening, that the whole of theatrical Moscow recognized the actor. Film success was not long in coming either - it came a little later, after the poignant premiere of the drama "The Elder Son" (1975).

Energy that tears the screen

Zakharov's attitude towards Karachentsov on the theatrical stage was completely special. This is not just collaboration. It was the acquisition of an ideal tool for a new theatrical revolution. Mark Anatolyevich himself frankly wrote in his memoirs: Nikolai Petrovich became the very ram that broke through the deaf wall between the old, dusty Lenin Komsomol Theater and the new, daring Moscow Lenkom.

The director understood what a treasure was in his hands. The success of "Thyl", according to Zakharov himself, was largely determined by this new young hero - a unique actor of synthetic property, who phenomenally possessed both plasticity and vocals. And then the real madness began. "Star and Death of Joaquin Murieta" (1976), the legendary "Juno and Avos" (1981) and other productions of the main director of "Lenkom" were released. On stage, Nikolai shone, tore his guts, burned himself to the ground.

But as soon as the spotlights went out and the movie camera turned on ... Mark Zakharov seemed to forget about his favorite. He did not offer him the main and big roles in his films. Not at all. Unlike Evgeny Leonov, Oleg Yankovsky, Alexander Abdulov, Leonid Bronevoy and a whole galaxy of other star actors of the "Lenkom" troupe, who migrated from his performances directly to the set.

Just think about this list. There was no place for Karachentsov in the poignant "Ordinary Miracle" (1978). He is not in the philosophical "The Very Same Munchausen" (1979). He passed by the sparkling "Formula of Love" (1984) and the gloomy film "To Kill a Dragon" (1989).

It is impossible to attribute this to a banal lack of time. In the late 70s, Nikolai was not yet literally "hot property" among film directors. And the same Alexander Abdulov played the main roles both with Zakharov in the cinema and with other directors, brilliantly combining this with a tight schedule in the performances of "Lenkom". So, the reason lay in something else. In something much more subtle.

Two random encounters in the frame

Frankly, their cinematic paths did intersect. Exactly twice. But how!

First there was the mini-series "12 Chairs" (1976) with Andrei Mironov and Anatoly Papanov. There, Nikolai flashed for a couple of minutes in the fourth series. The role? An actor of the avant-garde theater "Columbus", who plays in an innovative production of Gogol's "Marriage". Karachentsov's character eccentrically dances and sings couplets "Let me marry myself...". Ironic, isn't it? In the film, Zakharov asked him to do exactly the same thing that he did so brilliantly on the stage of Lenkom - to splash out pure theatrical eccentricity.

The second appearance occurred in the television film "The House That Swift Built" (1982). Here Karachentsov tried on the image of one of the participants in a strange Lilliputian love triangle. Not a central character, of course, but he got more lines and screen time than in the story about the chairs. By the way, a funny detail: the role of the second Lilliputian was played by Alexander Zbruev - another incredibly talented and star actor of "Lenkom", whom Mark Zakharov also somehow bypassed when it came to big cinema.

It happens that the director simply does not see the artist in a specific material. There is no suitable type, no necessary color. What's strange is something else. Mark Zakharov always co-authored the script for his films. If he wanted, he could easily come up with, write, sculpt a role specifically for the star of his troupe. But he didn't.

Scale not for the lens

Perhaps the answer lies in the very nature of Nikolai Petrovich's talent. Zakharov's cinema is the realm of halftones. The ironic squint of Yankovsky. The touching absurdity of Abdulov. The soft, cozy wisdom of Leonov. These are stories told in a whisper, with a sly smile in the mustache.

Karachentsov is an element. It's rock and roll. His energy required a huge space in the hall so that the audience was pressed into their seats from just one hoarse cry. To place this raging volcano in the tight frame of a movie frame, and even in a subtle philosophical fairy tale? Perhaps this would threaten the destruction of the very texture of the film. Its scale was simply different.

Nikolai Petrovich himself possessed amazing wisdom. In interviews, he never criticized this choice of the director, taking everything completely philosophically.

- Why did I play so few roles in Zakharov's films? - he reasoned. - Apparently, they couldn't be found for me! Apparently, he sees other actors instead of me.

No offense. No claims. Just a quiet acceptance of the fact that each creator has their own palette of colors. And if a scorching cinnabar was needed for the stage, then Zakharov chose a transparent watercolor for the film.

However, no one forbids us to fantasize. Close your eyes for a second. What characters do you think Nikolai Karachentsov could have played in those famous films by Mark Zakharov? And would these stories be better from this?