Not far from "Lenfilm" hangs perhaps the most absurd memorial plaque in Saint Petersburg: "The street is named after the director brothers Vasilyev," and next to it — a street sign: "Malaya Posadskaya." The directors themselves occupied a similarly strange position on the cinematic Olympus.
But their main film — "Chapaev" — became one of the symbols of domestic cinema. In 1964, on the 30th anniversary of the release of the film "Chapaev," Malaya Posadskaya Street in the Petrogradsky district was renamed in their honor. Symbolically, it begins at the "Lenfilm" studio and ends on Chapaev Street. In 1989, Vasilyev Brothers Street reverted to Malaya Posadskaya. There is some cultural injustice in this. Because the Vasilyev brothers did nothing bad for our people. They simply made excellent films that the whole country watched.
Perhaps the only fact about the Vasilyev brothers’ biography known to the average viewer is that they were not actually brothers. However, even before entering cinema, their fates were similar. For example, unlike all other directors of the "revolutionary call," the Vasilyevs were born into general’s families. In the early 1920s, both worked in Moscow film offices — re-editing Western films. In 1924, Georgy published an article in the magazine "Life of Art" signed "editor-editor Vasilyev." Sergey, having read the article and seeing his name under a text completely unknown to him, was outraged and went to find out what was going on... That’s how they met.
Foreign films were often considered "ideologically alien" to the masses. So it was necessary to insert socially correct titles, cut out excessively "bourgeois" parts, and sometimes even kill (or, conversely, resurrect) some of the characters — supposedly to show the true state of affairs in the capitalist world. Of course, given such freedom of action, the young editors amused themselves as best they could, sometimes reshaping the film beyond recognition. But thanks to this, by the late 1920s, the "Bandit Brothers," as they were often called, became first-class specialists.
By the early 1930s, numerous meetings on cinema affairs strongly recommended turning to the new socialist life, to the "everyday life of great construction projects." Therefore, the script about a hero of the civil war was met without any enthusiasm by the leadership of "Lenfilm." Moreover, it was decided to make "Chapaev" silent. Firstly, out of thirty thousand film installations in the country, only five hundred (that is, one and a half percent) were sound-equipped; secondly, it was impossible to entrust the expensive production of a sound film to directors who seemingly had not yet proven themselves. Only thanks to the support of the artistic director of "Lenfilm," Adrian Ivanovich Piotrovsky, was permission granted to make a sound film.
The Vasilyevs worked astonishingly meticulously. For the film as a whole and for each scene separately, they constructed "curves of emotional impact." Colleagues and critics regarded these curves with obvious irony, but the audience’s reaction became clear proof of the correctness of the directors’ calculation.
Among other things, these curves clearly balanced the pompous, dramatic scenes with humorous ones. In general, humor and eccentricity were always the Vasilyev brothers’ forte. It is no coincidence that, while admiring Eisenstein and Griffith, they most loved American adventure films featuring the 1920s public idol Douglas Fairbanks. When making "Chapaev," they certainly drew inspiration from these films. The choice of the sharply characterized theater actor Boris Babochkin for the lead role was also no accident (by the way, at first he was intended to play Petka).
Much has been written about the unprecedented audience success of the film. Of course, the decisive role in the film’s fate was played by the reaction of one very specific viewer. By half past ten in the evening, several new films were brought daily to the Kremlin for Stalin, who watched them over four to five hours and then issued a verdict. Stalin sometimes asked for a film to be brought again once or, in extreme cases, twice. On November 4, 1934, Stalin watched "Chapaev" for the first time. Then he ordered the film on the 7th, then the 8th, 9th (twice!), 10th (again twice!)... In the first month and a half, the father of nations saw the film sixteen times. The film’s fate was finally decided.
In an instant, the previously unknown directors were unconditionally recognized as classics of Soviet cinema. From then on, each of their new works was regarded as a major event in Soviet art.
But a strange thing! Creating films after "Chapaev" that were weaker one after another, the Vasilyevs did not try to radically change their style, which with each new film became more and more formulaic. Having set the bar too high, they were forced to "justify" and "conform." "We raised an elephant," Georgy once said, "and now we have to feed it all our lives!"
Grigory Kozintsev’s working notebooks have been preserved, in which he reflects on truth in art; there are notes by Eisenstein, who contemplates the philosophical meaning of each frame. The Vasilyev brothers’ working notes resemble either an accounting report or a memorandum. As if cinema was a duty for them, which they attended honestly and conscientiously, but nothing more.
Having created a harmonious creative tandem, the Vasilyevs were, however, completely different people. ‹…› Calm and serious Sergey somewhat balanced the expansive Georgy. ‹…› In 1946, Georgy Nikolaevich died. He was forty-six years old.
After his comrade’s death, Sergey Dmitrievich plunged headlong into administrative work. In the most miserable (this is the word most often used by old-timers) time, the late 1940s — early 1950s, he was director and then artistic director of "Lenfilm." And he behaved remarkably decently and courageously.
In 1949, he was summoned to Moscow as one of the main accusers of rootless cosmopolitans in cinematography and, contrary to all expectations, the proper Soviet film official, favored by the authorities and showered with awards, fiercely defended those he was supposed to accuse.
But, probably, the main thing is that the "thaw" at "Lenfilm" arose largely thanks to Sergey Vasilyev. It was under him that writers Viktor Nekrasov, Alexander Volodin, Daniil Granin, and directors Mikhail Schweitzer, Vladimir Vengerov came to cinema. It was under him that the films "Chuzhaya rodnya" ("Other People’s Relatives"), "Delo Rumyantseva" ("The Rumyantsev Case"), "Soldaty" ("Soldiers"), "Don Quixote" were released. Vasilyev himself at that time was shooting "V dni Oktyabrya" ("In the Days of October") — a film consisting of clichés and looking at least strange in 1958. And he made this film with the same conscientiousness and dedication as once "Chapaev." And he was seriously preparing to shoot a second series in the same spirit. He did not have time.
Looking back, it seems that the Vasilyev brothers never really understood their own work. But understanding it is truly difficult. In general, their creative biography can be summed up in one sentence: they conscientiously and seriously made film after film. One of those films turned out to be "Chapaev." And masterpieces are not created by accident.
Sources:
https://chapaev.media/articles/8481
Text by Petr Bagrov
