Well, who does not remember from the school bench this "appreciate the act of Raskolnikov," "whether he had the right or not," "what do these thoughts lead to" ... Well, and so on.
But in fact the truth, to what?
Someone makes them think about the problems of being, and someone is encouraged to write an amazing libretto for the real rock opera.
Then there are those who create a musical masterpiece, those who embody on the stage are not such simple images, revealing new facets of the characters. And now - the masterpiece is ready.
But what is a masterpiece without decorations and unique technologies? In this age, when art and technology are intertwined together, creating an even more authentic world - it would seem impossible to surprise, but some still risk to try.
So, our heroes: music - Eduard Artemyev, libretto, idea and staging - Andrey Konchalovsky, art director - Matt Diili (Great Britain), costume designer - Tamara Ashba.
However, of course, this is not all who worked to create this amazing work, and the more interesting it is to come and see what happened to them in the end!
We all live in anticipation of a miracle. And when it happens, completely lost.
It's boring to be a pragmatist. He does not expect anything good from life, believes that he will receive only what he fights hard for.
And others believe that the saints live among us. Only not everyone manages to meet with them.
A rich aunt died. The young heir does not mourn the old woman. He's so busy! It is more important for him to arrange a lavish funeral and a wake.
Only a young girl, his aunt's maid, is going through the death of her mistress. But she does not even have anyone to share her grief with.
A naive and frank girl so want to talk about the last hours of life of an elderly woman. She does not understand the strict orders of a good house. Why are the relatives of the deceased so indifferent?
Go to get warm in a rich house, she cordially invites a beggar in rags. Let him pray for the sinful soul of her mistress! The maid did not suspect that a saint had come to them.
He is taciturn, looks into the distance, keeps himself apart. Next to the fine doctor, arrogant abbot and other guests, he seems like a black sheep.
Comedy Maurice Maeterlinck about the greedy lover of the inheritance.
Even a miracle can be treated with irony.
Power is something that people aspired to and five centuries ago and twenty ... Power intoxicates, deprives reason, pushes against battles and betrayals. But ... how do we know what happened in this fight?
We open the history textbook, leaf through page after page, vchityvayas in lines, dry, ascertaining facts. But after these names, dates - there are already looming images of people who once lived, but their features are not yet clear, they are so hard to catch.
And then, we close the historical directory and open the book ... On the volume it is written "Pushkin. Boris Godunov". A historical drama, realistic ... in which live people look at us with feelings, fears, aspirations.
They, like flies in amber, are bogged down in intrigues, in a thirst for power, they accomplish crimes, confuse love with a cold cynical calculation, they lose themselves and suffer like soulless dolls when they get to the top.
But when all this comes to life on the stage, dressed in luxurious outfits of those epochs, when from there, from the twilight, a living voice begins to sound, a warning ringing in your ears, and the ghost of the murdered prince flashes, and somewhere near bliss the holy fool, unconditionally you begin to believe - in The history of power, the state of the Russian and those people who created it, wrote on the pages with their own blood and destinies. Which so desperately reliably play on stage wonderful actors, giving us the opportunity to touch the real lives of people far away for us.
"Today it hurts so much, my tears are tearing my eyes, these tears involuntarily I drop in silence ..."
Two stories. They smile, sad, sometimes even cry, thinking about those they once loved. Even if it's a question of a chance meeting.
How long ago it was! All of them - in the darkness of memory, in the souls of the soul ...
Was Shura happy in her life? She remembers not only her three husbands, but also those who did not become hers.
Did she overlook her love? In her cozy little world with white napkins, cups of coffee and delicious cupcakes, there is no place for strong feelings.
She goes for a walk in a fashionable hat in her youth with lace and worries that she can never fix her mistakes. The past can not be returned!
In the second, surprisingly sincere story, the old tailor Emmanuel recalls with his humor his beloved woman, his dear Rose.
Retro-performance about the uniqueness of the life path of each of the people. Actors are amazingly singing romances, playing the guitar.
How important it is to cherish your loved ones!
I'm not from you, Mom, I'm leaving, I'm leaving the mess.
Snow flakes fall softly and unhurriedly from the sky. White fluffs sweep before my eyes, remain on eyelashes and cool streams flow down the cheeks. And let your life seem unbearable to you, your hands fall down powerlessly. But you promised your mother that you will be strong.
Sometimes it is worth forgetting all the blatant ideas of our civilization and paying attention to what was known to the wildest savages - respect for the mother. Maternal love is a black hole. It absorbs even the most vile and vile things. Lies, betrayal, uneaten breakfast.
When there is no reason for resentment, anything can serve as an excuse. Even semolina porridge. And how else should you behave when you are already pounding your nasty lumps against your throat? Turn around and leave. And it does not matter that it's winter outside, dark and minus thirty. Resentment and anger warm better than sheepskin coats. Sometimes I want it so cold. To the heart - ice, soul - concrete, stone. To look - snow, frost. And sometimes almost it turns out. You already feel this cold in your soul, you wait for it, you are ready for it ... but for some reason your mother looks into your eyes and starts to smile.
Wars are cursed by mothers. Manka is cursed by children.
Everyone is unhappy in his own way. But not everyone can survive the grief.
Old people go to their beloved children. Their hearts are full of tenderness. Will they reach it?
An eighty-year-old stonemason from a poor Jewish town goes to Vilnius to meet his son. His boy shot at the governor! The father must see him, perhaps for the last time.
Together with the old man, his neighbor, a water carrier, set off on his way. His son has lived in America for a long time. Send papa photos of grandchildren. The neighbor hopes to meet with his son in Palestine.
The third fellow traveler is almost blissful. The grocer lost his mind when the shop burned down. I went with them just for the company. He dreams of becoming a tree and thus gaining eternal life.
They remember their bitter life, full of endless losses, grievances and disappointments.
On the way they will visit the wedding and funeral, they will meet people wise and stupid, sad and funny.
Among them, the white-haired rabbi and his daughter, dreaming of the groom, the restless horse thief and the noisy band of his children.
Is it possible a miracle? It is so important for them to find peace of mind.
"Wherever we go, wherever we go, we go and go to our children. And they go and go to the opposite side from us further and further. And we will never meet with them. "
Bazarov did not fit in the village life, or he planted the turmoil with his nihilism, that is, the negation of everything and a contemptuous attitude towards principles, or simply bored everyone. He believed in one physiology and matter, and she overcame him: first, earthly love, then typhus.
And in the meantime, the rest of the village paradise lives sweetly: ladies gather flowers, gentlemen conduct intelligent conversations, and enjoy everything with life. Kirsanov Sr. has long been happy in love, and it's time to get married. Younger, too, love smiled, he found his Katenka ...
Two pairs, two weddings - and why should they quarrel, fathers and children? Let them live happily, they live.
Only the one to whom everything is not cute, who has always opposed everyone, tragically finished his life ...
Who called him a goat? Now, if a womanizer, and better - a reveler, a scoundrel or a mischievous.
He just loves women, that's why he runs after every skirt.
And silly like butterflies fly to his call. They themselves rush to his neck, forget about the suitors and husbands.
For the sake of a casual affair, I'm ready for anything. He is cynical, sarcastic and reckless. For him to get into a fight - a trifling matter.
The old girlfriend tired him of moralizing. She listened to them in the monastery. But they do not need it. He is already looking for his new victim. And the girl abandoned by him wept bitterly.
He is invited to a peasant wedding. Who will he take with him this time?
Can he deceive the bridegroom who believed him and seduce the young bride?
A faithful servant warned him that it was here that he had once killed the commander. But Don Juan himself the devil is not terrible.
He does not care about conscience and honor. Above all - his minute whims.
But he is sure that everyone else is just like him, only they are hiding it.
"We are all slaves, for that matter, slaves of passions, whims, pleasures.
Over time, warmth and kindness in us perish, to regret. "
Favorite songs of our Soviet past. Well, if among them will be your favorite.
Most, of course, about love.
"Where the maple rustles over the river wave, we talked about love with you. Noisy that maple, the field is haunted by the haze, and love, like a dream, passed by. "
But there are also hooligan-table women: "Bells-bells are ringing. Our horses raced for two hours in a row. Our horses have become tense - the long journey. Is not it time for us to wave a glass? "
The broken songs of the time when the Moscow residence permit was almost an unattainable dream.
"Mom, I love the janitor!" Mom, I'll go for the janitor! Janitor without problems and risk
In a moment will make a residence permit. That's why I like janitors! "
And of course, compassionate, touching the soul: "Stand by the locomotive, do not rush, wheels. Conductor, press the brakes. I hasten to see my mother's mother with the last greet to appear on the eyes. "
But the mischievous, of course, more. Among them, an unforgettable "Chicken roasted".
Come! You will not regret.
Reduction and mere mortals do not manage to get together! And not because they are creatures from different worlds. Just ordinary people, it turns out, forgot how to play along with the secrets of the ancient castle!
After all, how should one behave? Of course, frightened stories about bringing, to be afraid of the kind of the ghost itself, scatter all around in a meeting with him ...
But the ghosts no longer believe, they are not afraid, and suddenly it is found that this ghost should be feared by people who do not want to leave him alone.
Maybe a little girl can help a ghost? After all, the ghost really suffers, paying for a terrible sin - murder. Someone must help him find peace!
"I dreamed of a garden in a wedding dress, in this garden we are together with you. The stars in the sky, the stars on the sea, the stars and in my heart. "
They peacefully sing romances, but the shadow of the coming revolution has already fallen on such a cozy house. The clouds are gathering. The storm is just around the corner.
Guests are chatting on the summer veranda. All my family, the manufacturer's family, their friends and acquaintances gathered. The head of the family soon intends to take his sick wife to Yalta to Chekhov, hoping that the former doctor will cure his wife of consumption.
They are waiting for the famous singer, who promised to sing Russian romances for them. And they themselves love to sing, sincerely, captivating.
Almost twenty songs! From the most famous to rarely performed, on the verses of Lermontov, Pushkin, Tyutchev and unknown authors.
Some of them, for example, "The Black Shawl", will not be sung, but played out as a mischievous theatrical performance.
The guests gathered at the dacha veranda on the day of Chekhov's death. Very soon - the first Russian revolution.
But there is still time to sing a captivating romance about the first dates.
"Leaves are a whisper or wind gusts sensitive soul I greedily catch. The eyes are deep, the mouth is silent: dear, oh dear, I love. "