Larysa KADOCHNYKOVA: “Theater is a jealous husband who won’t forgive betrayal”

When Larysa Kadochnykova was a young artist and had just begun to perform in theater, she was offered to take a mysterious and loud scenic name, Kado. She did not do that and never gives it a thought what her life would have been if she had agreed. For it is common knowledge that people’s names influence their destinies. One can only guess today, but is it worthwhile? Perhaps, there would not have been brilliant performances of the National Lesia Ukrainka Academic Theater, such as My Ironic Happiness, Filumena Marturano, Holy Monsters, An Interview in Buenos Aires, and others, which have become significant namely owing to the talented actress with exotic beauty and long surname — Kadochnykova. Nobody knows whether the films of once renowned Oleksandr Dovzhenko Film Studio, such as Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors, White Bird with a Black Mark, A Well for Those Who Are Thirsty, which opened to the world the Ukrainian star named Larysa, would have enjoyed immense success. However, nobody today is surprised at the expression that history does not have a conditional mood, and a fact is a fact. Ukraine should be proud that Kadochnykova is living and working in this country.

Ms. Kadochnykova, when did you enter the stage for the first time? Where did it happen?

“I was incredibly lucky. I graduated from the VGIK in 1961 and absolutely accidentally went with the student in the same year of studies as I to the unattainable and incredibly popular theater Sovremennik, where he was supposed to try for the theatrical character of a social hero. It was a friendly gesture: the guy asked to accompany him. The commission included all the leading actors of the theater: Galina Volchek, Igor Kvasha, Yevgeniy Yevstigneev, Lilya Tolmachova. My friend was very excited whereas I did not take the situation seriously: I was absolutely sure that they wouldn’t take me to this company under any circumstances, because so many top-class actresses were playing in Sovremennik. Moreover, I studied to become a cinema actress and had already received a lucky appointment to the Gorky Film Studio. We started playing eagerly, the authorities began to react to our cues, even laugh, after the performance was over they suddenly started to applaud. Then Volchek brought me aside and asked whether I wanted to work in their theater. ‘I dream about it,’ I could not believe what I heard. ‘You are accepted to the company.’ However, they did not accept my partner, and I felt very uncomfortable before him.”

How come a girl who grew up in an artistic family (mother is actress Nina Alisova, father is director Valentyn Kadochnykov) was not self-confident?

“It’s true. I was growing up in a creative atmosphere. But since my very childhood I dreamed to become a ballet dancer. It seemed to me that I danced very well, just like Ulanova. (laughing) When the guests came, I would make them sit and watch my dances. Then everything went dark before my eyes and I fell. After all, my mother forbid me even to think about the career of a ballerina. Neither did she want me to become a drama actress: she knew pretty well how difficult this profession is. When time came for me to enter the university, she did not help me. As any university entrant, I was running about all higher educational establishments with theatrical specialization. This was how I came to the VGIK. The competition was 1,000 people per one place. Once, during one of my final exams, I was approaching the examination commission with an unsteady step on high heels, suddenly my heel slipped treacherously and an examiner said, ‘Unfortunately, you don’t look much like your mother. Sing something.’ I sang, then danced, and after all was selected among other candidates. Now I understand that they took this decision by inertia: it was hard to notice at least some actor’s abilities in a timid girl with frightened eyes.”

Were you indeed a timid girl?

“Extremely. As a child I felt like an ugly duckling: I was shy, very thin, had a long nose, straight hair and also straight eyelashes. Brother Vadik (well-known Russian cameraman Vadim Alisov. — Author) was very handsome, he took after mom, and I envied him.”

Of the guests who came to your house, who do you remember best?

“Indeed, we gathered noisy companies. Actors from the Vakhtangov Theater were frequent guests at our place; they were joyful and witty. I remember well the wonderful cameraman Yurii Yekelchik. He liked me a lot and once (I was some nine or ten years old then) he told my mother, ‘Nina, your girl will become a beautiful lady and an actress.’ Those words sank into my mind. Besides, our house was a place of residence of all celebrities, cinema stars, as they say now. Tamara Makarova, Ivan Pyriev, Maria Ladygina, Sergey Gerasimov. Once my mother and I visited Makarova and Gerasimov. I was shocked at their huge and beautiful apartment. In my opinion, this was a real palace and Tamara Fedorovna was its queen. We lived quite poorly at the time, I did not have even a desk, I did my homework on the floor. Dad died very young, he was 29 years old. Mom was left with two children. She worked a lot, went on tours, and we were actually brought up by our grandmother.”

In spite of everything, the genes had their effect — you graduated from the VGIK and played in the Sovremennik Theater, which was the subject of everyone’s dreams, both beginning actors and masters, but you worked only several seasons there. You moved to Kyiv, which was quite an unusual thing.

“Indeed, I worked for three years in this unique theater which at the time might have gathered the most talented and daring actors. Those were the early 1960s, Sovremennik enjoyed full houses, and people stood in lines for tickets at night. I played together with Mikhail Kozakov, Oleg Yefremov, Tatiana Doronina. There was an incredible atmosphere in the studio: we were practically living there, hardly leaving it for several hours. This was perhaps the most wonderful time in my life: everyone liked me in the theater, I liked everybody. There was no envy. I played an episodic role one day, and the heroine the other day. Sovremennik did not have a hint of prima donnas, which is the end for the real theater.

“Still, I left it, and in spite of everything I don’t regret it: it means that this was inscribed in the Book of Destiny. A Ukrainian film director, scarcely known at the time, offered a job for Yurii Ilienko (at the time a cameraman and my husband). We went to the meeting together with Yura. The stranger looked very extravagant: a Caucasus man, wearing a black suit and a black hat, was sitting on a suitcase in the middle of the sidewalk (laughing), when he saw me, he jumped up and shouted, ‘This is Marichka! Only she should play Marichka!’ This director was Serhii Paradzhanov, and the film script he gave to Ilienko to read was Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. So we left for Kyiv. I don’t know what my life would be like in Moscow, but I have been happy here. I have worked with extremely talented directors, Mashchenko, Biima, Viktiuk, Rieznykovych, so I have no reasons to complain.”

“At the time it was journalist Janusz Gazda, who revealed Paradzhanov for Poland. He headed a periodical in Warsaw and wrote extensively about Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors. The film won his heart forever, so he told wherever he could about it. Once Januzh came to Kyiv with his wife Lucia, also a journalist and she brought her grandmother’s old-age clock as a present for Serhii: a bell, hanging on a chain. They went to the studio, and as Lucia met with Serhii, she solemnly presented him with the gift. Serhii was delighted. Lucia and Janusz went to watch some director’s material, whereas Paradzhanov boasted of his present before colleagues.

“At this moment, I was going across the studio and came across him. When Serhiii saw me, he shouted right away, ‘Larysa! I have a present for you.’ And put this clock on my neck. I did not know what it was. In an hour I accidentally met Janusz and Lucia and showed them the clock. I can’t tell her face expression. She was so much embarrassed and offended that she wanted to leave for Warsaw the same day.

“When I heard the whole story, I tried to give the clock back to Lucia, but she categorically refused. Janusz and Lucia could not forgive Serhii his deed for a long while, but this was what Paradzhanov was like. One had to accept him the way he was, or not communicate with him at all.”

I have already asked you this question. I just want to know whether any changes have taken place in your life. Are you a fatalist? Do you believe in foresight, evil eye, and prophetic dreams?

“I believe in dreams. I don’t remember, did I tell you this? I saw the same dream twice. I was studying in the institute and had already met Yurii Ilienko, but I did not pay special attention to him. Suddenly I dreamed that I was running along the seashore and held Yura’s hand. There was the sun, glossy water surface, and sand! This was a light, nice, but, most importantly, absolutely unexpected dream. Several days later Ilienko made a declaration of love.

“Many years passed since that time. I was single again. A new director, Mykhailo Saranchuk, came to the Lesia Ukrainka Theater. We hardly knew each other, and besides, he was married. Suddenly I saw a dream: Mykhailo and I were running along the seashore, holding each other’s hand. When I woke up, I thought, ‘What nonsense!’ In a while we fell in love with each other. And now we have been one family for 30 years now.

“My breakup with Ilienko was very difficult for me. I cannot even imagine what my life would have been if I had not met Mykhailo. He saved me: he left his favorite theater, so that I could work there. He dedicated his life to me, and until now, when I wake up in the morning and see him, I thank God for meeting this man. By the way, I haven’t seen any dreams lately (I mean prophetic ones). Or I simply forget them. I think the reason is that I feel calm and safe with this man.”

I have many times heard from different sources the romantic story of your relations with Illia Glazunov. Who was your first love?

“I was overcome with my first real love when I was a second-year-student. Illia Glazunov’s exhibit opened in Moscow. He was a young, but already famous artist. I went there on the opening day with my mother. There was a countless number of visitors, when suddenly a young lady ran up to us and said, ‘You have wonderful eyes! Let’s go, I will introduce you to Glazunov. This is my husband.’ We came up to him and made the acquaintance. Glazunov told mom numerous compliments — you’re wonderful actress, a beauty, etc. Afterwards he turned his attention to me, ‘Your daughter has wonderful eyes. I want to paint her portrait.’ After a couple of days I sat for the portrait, and a whirlwind romance broke out between us at once. Those absolutely fantastic relations lasted for three years, followed by suffering, torments, and tears.”

Was it then that you began to draw?

“No, Illia quieted this kind of desires. He thought that I was a talented actress. He introduced me to Efros. I started to rehearse for Anna Frank’s Diary. At the American Embassy he introduced me to Hollywood filmmakers: already the next day they came to VGIK, made photo tests, and offered me a contract with the cherished ‘dream factory.’ Unfortunately, that was an improper time for this.

“With time I understood that our affair did not have any prospects. He was not going to divorce his wife Nina, who not only knew about our relations, but also encouraged them. ‘You are the sky, and I am the earth,’ Nina wrote to me. She was a wonderful person, very devoted to Glazunov, and I was an outlet. Later all women he painted had my eyes. Illia was very talented and kind, but at the same moment, he subdued everyone in a very strict manner. He could break in a class during a lecture and say, ‘Come here!’ and I jumped up and ran zombielike. I met him many years later at an exhibit: that was a different Glazunov. However, he remains a genius. I think that the fact that I encountered this person when I was young gave me the impetus to become a good actress. Namely that communication, rather than even my mother’s influence.”

In your opinion, as a good actress who frequently receives offers, what is the difference between the contemporary theater and the one where you took your first professional steps?

“These are two different poles. The theater of the early 1960s was closer to Stanislavsky’s system, in spite of the fact that in Soviet times they welcomed plays like Steelmakers or ideological odes to Brezhnev, for example. It was foolhardiness to play there.

“However, for the sake of justice I must notice that very good dramaturgy also existed at the time; it was produced by Viktor Rozov and Aleksei Arbuzov. It was hard for directors to achieve that classical works were staged. Moliere’s or Shakespeare’s works appeared on stage like diamonds. Nowadays modern actors are rarely offered to play in modern drama performances. However, one may stage classical works, whatever they like. But the question of director’s production stands very acutely. As well as the masters’ explorations: either to stage the play, bringing it through your soul, or embody it in some flowery shape. Or merge both these approaches. Russians have been prone lately to the refined Baltic manner of staging – they invite to performances staged by Eimuntas Nyakroshus, Alvis Hermansis (quite recently Kyiv’s audience and professionals welcomed with delight the Theater of Nations with the play Shukshin’s Tales). Indisputably, their plays are good, but it seems to me that representatives of the Baltic theater school are too much fond of the shape, whereas the notorious ‘Slavic soul’ is left somewhat aside.”

Can you single out any of Kyiv-based directors?

“Above all, or course, Mykhailo Rieznykovych with whom I have worked a lot. For example, the play My Ironical Happiness, where I play Olga Knipper-Chekhova has stayed with me for my whole life. It is a brilliant play, and within the years connecting me with it, Anton Chekhov has become so dear to me that sometimes it seems to me that I have played all characters from his works (for Knipper-Chekhova played in Diadia Vania, and Seagull, and Cherry Garden). This is wonderful. I think that My Ironical Happiness is one of the theater’s best plays. It has been and will remain so as long as we are alive.

“I liked very much to work with Alla Rybikova. She is a translator and an expert in German dramaturgy, she has staged a very interesting and tough play by Swiss Lukas Baerfuss, Die sexuellen Neurosen unserer Eltern (Sexual Neuroses of Our Parents), on the small stage of our theater. Alla is a modern person herself, and she feels subtly the tendencies of time, unlike some other of my colleagues.

“The Ivan Franko Theater has many interesting experiments. The last play I have seen there is Getting Married staged by Valentyn Kozmenko-Delinde. Once he staged Arturo Ui’s Career, a brilliant play with Bohdan Stupka in the leading role. I was stunned by that production. Later he went to work in the Czech Republic, but then he returned, did something, but without any explosion. And suddenly Getting Married appeared. This is an ensemble performance: Bohdan Beniuk plays in an enchanting manner. It was a huge pleasure to watch it: I finally saw the real Getting Married by Gogol. This was amazing.

“Dmytro Bohomazov is a very strong director. On the whole, it seems to me, Ukrainian theater luckily has not suffered the things suffered by Ukrainian cinema. It is impossible to watch those numerous TV series produced by new film studios. At times, I come up with a desire to watch them, because they engage our actors (thank goodness, they receive offers), but when I switch the TV, I start feeling unwell. For I have had the luck to work with great directors who shot real films. The contemporary cinema is so untalented. After all, people are attracted by the theater; it enjoys full houses, and not only during the performances of touring companies.”

I have heard that your dream to stage your own play about the love between George Sand and Frederic Chopin may soon come to life?

“Mykhailo Rieznykovych liked it, and he was ready to make the play part of our theater’s repertoire. The play was directed by Mykola Mashchenko: he rewrote some scenes and reinforced the male line. But nothing has come out of it! We have the crisis now, and the play is costly: expensive costumes are needed to reproduce the atmosphere of those times and society. I have turned to the Polish embassy and the French Cultural Center. We even found contact with Comedie Francaise, but all in vain. They like the material and are grateful for taking interest in these personalities. But then there is a standstill. Even the fact that UNESCO announced this year the Year of Chopin does not help. It’s a pity. This is a beautiful story of love and complicated relations between the brilliant Chopin and simply a talented person, George Sand, and I wanted very much to play the role of this strange woman.”

By the way, speaking about the division of roles within a theater, this process has always been very exciting in the actor milieu, and it frequently happened that the one who received the leading role, or just an interesting one, gained with it secret and open enemies. Do you make friends with your colleagues?

“No.”

Is the a matter of principle?

“You see, the thing is… I had a friend at the Sovremennik Theater, Nina Doroshina (films Love and Pigeons, For Family Reasons. — Author), and we are still exchanging letters. She says, too, that besides me, she has only one close friend among actors, from St. Petersburg. Imagine a situation: before I came to the theater, I had watched the play Naked King, where Doroshina also played. I admired her and imagined myself playing the princess’ role. When I was included to the Sovremennik’s company, Nina and I immediately became attached to each other. Once I told her about my long-standing dream. And all of a sudden she said, ‘So what’s the problem? I will go to Yefremov and ask.’ And she did so! I was included in the performance. Then a similar situation happened with The Fifth Column after Hemingway, where Doroshina played a Moroccan woman: she again put in a word for me. Can you imagine? This trait of character is absolutely absent in the theater! Nina is a strange and selfless person.”

Or she may be a self-sufficient person, confident in her talent — this is when a person does not envy and wants to make good for close people.

“You are absolutely right. I was in love with her as an actress, I copied her. We even have photos where we are one and the same face, although we do not look like each other. In Kyiv I was friends with Tonia Leftii (How the Steel Hardened, Zakhar Berkut, Stone Cross. — Author). She resides in Australia at the moment. I was also fond of her, both as a woman and an actress. And I used to copy her style, too. We would appear in the studio in similar caps, and we had identical weight and even blood pressure! (laughing) I liked her so much. I thought she was perfect. And we were real friends. Not so long ago Tonia came to Kyiv with her son; he is a very good musician — an organ player, it seems to me. We met. This was an absolutely different person. No, she hasn’t been spoiled; she has become absolutely different.

“As a student, I used to be close with Natalia Kustinskaya. And recently, when an exhibit of my drawings opened in Moscow, I invited her, but Natalia did not come. I understood that she was not eager to maintain any kind of relationship with me. There was a period when I had a close relationship with Tamara Semina. But I consider only Nina Doroshina and Tonia Leftii to be my real friends.

“In the theater I have good, equal relations with everyone, but nothing beyond that.”

Imagine a hypothetic situation: you should give a one-sentence explanation of what the theater is to a person who hears about this phenomenon for the first time.

“I will quote the words of my pedagogue Olga Pyzhova: ‘Theater is a jealous husband who won’t forgive betrayal.’ (laughing)”