The personal life of the actor Filippov. Yuri Filippov: "Father was a very reserved person." How is it in prison? I go to class every day

Popularity did not play the best role in the actor's personal life - he could not stand the test of fame and big money, which is probably why his first marriage broke up - Sergey Filippov's wife Alevtina Gorinovich, tired of her husband's constant feasts, took her son and left him. Later, Alevtina Ivanovna emigrated to the United States, and this ended the actor’s communication not only with his ex-wife, but also with his son, whom he never saw again.

Filippov met Alya Gorinovich within the walls of the Leningrad Variety and Circus Technical School, they began dating, and soon got married. Their son Yuri was born, and the first years of the ten lived together, the couple lived very happily.

Sergei Nikolaevich loved Alya very much, and she was insanely jealous of him, and she was also offended by the fact that fame was more precious to her husband than she and her son.

When deafening popularity came, Sergei Filippov's personal life began to crumble - not only feasts with colleagues and fans appeared in it, but also other women with whom he had affairs.

This reached Alevtina Ivanovna, she suffered and worried, and then left Filippov. Having left Russia, Gorinovich did not return to her homeland, and therefore they never officially separated from Filippov.

The second wife of the actor was the children's writer Antonina Golubeva, whom he met in the restaurant of the Astoria Hotel, where he lived in a room filmed for him by the director of the Comedy Theater Akimov.

This happened almost immediately after parting with Alevtina Ivanovna, and Filippov immediately moved from the hotel to Golubeva. Antonina was thirteen years older than Filippov and followed him everywhere.

She made sure that he did not have affairs on the side and tried to wean him from drinking.

And she was also against the communication of Sergei Nikolaevich with his son, but he still continued to visit Yura until he left for America with his mother. Antonina Golubeva also had a daughter from one of her previous marriages and a granddaughter, but she did not communicate with them.

Everyone who knew this couple was surprised that she was keeping them together - Antonina was always dissatisfied with something, and Filippov himself often said in moments of revelation that he did not love his second wife, and Golubeva was unimportant mistress.

They say that at home they always had a mess, the actor often came to the theater unkemptly dressed, but he did not attach any importance to this.

Together they lived for forty years until Antonina Golubeva died. No matter what they say, the actor's second wife was his savior - she supported her husband when he was fired from the theater, nursed him after a difficult operation.

The death of Antonina became a black day in the biography of Sergei Filippov - he turned out to be useless and barely made ends meet, living on a meager pension, he began to have mental problems. The actor survived his wife by only a year and died alone in his apartment in an atmosphere of appalling poverty.

witty person in real life. However, fate prepared for him difficult trials, including a long-term quarrel with his only son.

He looked at me carefully: "Who are you?" “I am your son.” "I have no son," he replied coldly. “And me, Seryozhenka, don’t you recognize me either?” Mom asked. Her father looked at her, his face contorted, it seemed that he was about to cry. He quickly turned around and ran away. Then I realized that he still loves his mother...

I brought a statement from my father to the OVIR: “I have nothing to do with my son’s decision to leave for permanent residence abroad. I think that he should be severely punished, or better, shot. I have no financial claims. Sergei Filippov.
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"Where will you shoot? I asked the young employees of the OVIR. “Here or in the yard by the wall?”

Of course, I knew that my father was tearing and metal when he found out that I was emigrating. But it would never have occurred to him to write such a thing. So an imaginary picture stands before his eyes, as his cohabitant Madame Golubeva dictates these lines, full of hatred for the enemy.

After my departure, my father stopped communicating with me, he did not print letters from behind the hillock. And if friends asked about me, I answered that I did not enter into any contacts with traitors to the motherland. And only at the end of his life he admitted that if he had started all over again, he would have stayed with his wife and son ...

I will never forget our last telephone conversation.

- No, Yura, do not send money, medicines either. I have everything.

“Would you like to come visit me?” I'll pay for everything.

- That's not necessary either.

“We haven’t seen each other for so many years ... If you want, I’ll come myself, I can come with my mother.”

“I love her very much and have always loved her.

“She knows it, and by the way, she never remarried. Well, you are like small children, it's time for you to meet and talk.

“I will never forgive her for kicking me out with a log!”

For some reason, at these words about the log, I remembered how in childhood I dreamed that my beloved parents would live together, and my heart ached. An amazing thing. I changed the country, surname and patronymic, I thought that with a red-hot iron I etched everything that was connected with my father. But in the end I returned to St. Petersburg, sometimes I go to the Comedy Theater, where he worked all his life, I collect bit by bit his archive, photographs, memories of him. It can be seen that the Philippian genes in me still won ...


My grandfather, a German baron, was a manager at a nail factory in Saratov. There he married a lace maker, the beautiful songstress Duna, my grandmother. They gave birth to Seryozha, my father. But at the beginning of World War I, my grandfather was forced to leave for his homeland, and my grandmother flatly refused to leave Russia.

Master Nikolai Georgievich, a mechanic by profession, worked at the same factory. Once, his owner sent a promising worker to improve his skills in Germany, a year later Nikolai returned from there in a fashionable vest adorned with a watch chain. Local girls shot in his direction with their eyes, but the enviable suitor preferred Dunya, who was lonely by that time: although she was with a child, she was a real beauty, moreover, she sang like a nightingale! So Serezha had a stepfather.

On Saturdays, the new head of the family invariably came home drunk, scolded his wife, and then climbed onto the chest of drawers and loudly sang German songs memorized abroad, in between reproaching Seryozha for his bourgeois origin. By the way, the local boys teased their friend with none other than the Font Baron.

All of my father's childhood was spent on the street. “The Volga saw us much more often than at home,” he said more than once. With neighbor boys, the same beggars, he stole watermelons from barges going along the river. Caught fish, but mostly came across a trifle. She was fried on sticks on a fire, and they themselves circled around in wild pirate dances, in the performance of which Sergey was especially zealous.

Telling me about childhood pranks, dad always said: “Yes, I was far from a gift!” Among school subjects, he respected literature and chemistry. Because of the chemistry, he was kicked out of school with a bang. Dad suddenly decided that he was already ripe for independent experiments, and as a result of combinations with hydrochloric acid and iron filings, he created such a caustic gas that classes had to be stopped for several days.

Mother puzzled: what to do next with such an inquisitive son? There was unemployment in Saratov, and there was nothing to think about arranging a boy without a profession somewhere. First, she gave him as an apprentice to the baker, but he messed up something, ruined the dough and flew out into the street. “Okay, Gorky didn’t manage to bake bread either,” the well-read Seryozha consoled himself. Then his mother took him to a German cabinetmaker. He spoke Russian poorly and called his father "little Filipou." Raising his index finger instructively, he said: “Malshik Filipou, without srument and vosh ne ubesh.” Dad liked it in the workshop: silence, pieces of wood, shavings, luxurious furniture. Later, he often warmly recalled his pedant-teacher and in difficult times said: “It won’t work out further with acting - I’ll go to the restorers!”

But one day his life took a sharp turn. One evening they were walking with a friend past a local club, looked in the window. There, in a large lighted hall, girls in short skirts made such pretzels with their feet that Seryozha's jaw dropped. At the entrance to the building hung a sign "Choreographic School". The guys looked at each other in bewilderment and grunted: is this from the word "mug", or what? But dad liked what he saw so much that he persuaded a friend to come in. The teacher immediately enrolled them in a circle, since not a single boy was there. A friend very quickly lost interest in dancing, and dad began to study, and the teacher, seeing his zeal, eventually advised me to go to Moscow, to study further.

Dad really had exceptional data for a classical dancer: a jump, a sense of rhythm, long legs. But in the capital's choreographic school, the recruitment was already completed, and he entered the ballet department of the Leningrad Circus Variety College on Mokhovaya. My mother Alevtina Gorinovich also studied there with great enthusiasm. Years later, dad sighed with regret: “It is a pity that she did not become an actress. She was like Yermolova with talent.


But my grandmother Lyubov Ippolitovna was unhappy with her daughter's choice of profession:

- How could you? Granddaughter of General Kupriyanov - and an actor! If you really wanted creativity, I would go to the artist, or something. I studied with Nicholas Roerich! Paper, watercolor... Why is it bad?

— Paper, watercolor... But life passes by!

- What can life be like under revolutionaries?

But as it turned out, the school was not so bad: Asya had an affair with Seryozha, who not only was preparing to become a ballet dancer, but also lived in a hostel on a tiny scholarship. And when the daughter brought Filippov to meet her mother, the future mother-in-law immediately did not like the groom.

How can you want to marry him? He is ham. Take a closer look at him. It's a clown, clown! He will never make a good husband and father to your children.

“And what do you think my husband should be?” Like what you had? my mother answered boldly.

- My husbands were from good families, educated, handsome, mustachioed. And this one is erratic. No stake, no yard. Your father was, by the way, a nobleman! He was a hero and went missing in the war,” Lyubov Ippolitovna concluded with pathos, sobbed and put a lace handkerchief to her eyes.

Mom, you're wrong. Seryozha - smart, handsome. We are graduating college soon. And he will have a good job.

At these words Lyubov Ippolitovna's tears instantly dried up.

“Is it a man’s job to kick your feet?” She herself went into acting, and even decided to have a dancer husband ?!

Asya was sure that her mother would nevertheless change her anger for mercy and accept her son-in-law. But time passed, and Lyubov Ippolitovna was adamant. She only tolerated my father. For her, he was just a boor, unworthy of the hand of her daughter. She told him so all the time: “Seryozhenka, you are a boor.” It would seem that there are only three letters, but how much feeling she put into them! Class hatred spoke in her, and her father never spoke about his barony ...

Lyubov Ippolitovna was, as they used to say, one of the former. General's daughter, studied at the Imperial Society for the Encouragement of Arts. I remember how, sitting by the window, she drank tea from a cup of Saxon porcelain, miraculously survived, having gone through the revolution, the Civil and Patriotic Wars with her grandmother, through evacuation, moving and returning to Shirokaya Street in Leningrad. This cup without a saucer and a few photographs are all Lyubov Ippolitovna has left of her former life.

But, it happened, when the whole general's family went to the dacha, they carried a piano with them. It was special, summer. In winter, he was kept in a barn at the house, covered with a thick blanket and wrapped in hay. Grandmother recalled this with nostalgia. Of course, she dreamed that her daughter would marry a prince on a white horse.

Once, Asya and Serezha, without receiving a blessing, signed, and dad legally moved into his mother's room. For my grandmother, this was a tragedy. The whole apartment smelled of valerian and ammonia. With her head tied, Lyubov Ippolitovna occasionally went out into the now common kitchen to pour tea into her Saxon cup. Neither daughter nor son-in-law was allowed to see her. But from time to time she approached their door and knocked loudly: “You can’t do this so much! It's bad for your health!"

And the newlyweds made grandiose plans for the future. Dad graduated from college in 1933. At the graduation concert, he performed the incendiary dance of the English sailor "Jolly Jim". The number was a great success. Everyone was amazed that tap dancing in it alternated with classic batmans. It was bold. The most amazing thing is that thanks to this dance he was accepted into the Mariinsky Theater. Joy knew no bounds: “Can you imagine, Asenka! I, yesterday's Saratov boy, and suddenly - an artist of the world famous troupe!


In the new ballet The Red Poppy, he played the role of the Stoker: he ran out onto the stage with a bucket, all stained with coal, and performed a very short dance, and then, as it was written in the libretto, he ran away to the stoker. One day, dad stayed on the stage longer than expected and suddenly put a dirty bucket on the hand of the captain standing on the stage, whose snow-white tunic was instantly covered with black spots. For this trick, he received a serious scolding. But this was not the reason for his departure from the Mariinsky. Once right at the performance, dad lost consciousness. The doctor's verdict was categorical: "You have a weak heart, you will have to forget about ballet."

Dad did not expect such a blow of fate. He became irritable and rude. It also happened to my mother. And then Lyubov Ippolitovna incited her daughter: “I warned you! Is this a job for a man? So what are you going to do?"

The father had no choice but to look for another job. He performed on the stage, then there was a music hall, where my mother served and Mironova and Menaker began their creative activities. But my father did not stay there long. Soon I received a telegram: “I propose to work at the Comedy Theater that I have accepted, point Akimov.” It turns out that Nikolai Pavlovich remembered his father from the Jolly Jim dance. The Pope immediately sent an answer: "I agree unconditionally."

The Comedy Theater was then called the "theater at the grocery store", since it was located in the same building as the Eliseevsky store. His chief director was not even embarrassed by the fact that his father did not have a school of dramatic art. But the actors were wary of Filippov. Dad remembered for a long time the phrase said by someone after him: “Is this guy with the face of a killer really an actor ?!” The only one who immediately showed sympathy for the newcomer was Elena Mavrikievna Granovskaya, in the forties the audience poured into performances with her participation - “A Glass of Water”, “The Cherry Orchard”, “Enemies”. The brilliant actress had one passion: Granovskaya adored little pigs. And like a dog she sometimes kept a pig at home. When he grew up, Granovskaya passed him, as she believed, into good hands. But these "good hands" sent the poor fellow to the frying pan.


But filmmakers immediately drew attention to the young actor. Screen debut took place in 1937. It was an episodic role without words in the film "The Fall of Kimas Lake". According to the story, dad had to, shooting back from a Red Army soldier, run over the river on a log, but he slipped and fell into the icy water. After each take, the director's assistants rubbed him with alcohol, and on the fourth take they took pity and let him take it inside. And my father really liked it. As, however, I liked to shoot. Although when he first saw himself on the screen, there was a desire to quit the acting profession: “Is it really me? Yes, such a disgrace is not like in the cinema, you can’t even let the tram!”

Filippov could handle any serious role, but the directors exploited his comedy gift with might and main, offering roles of various nasty types. Once dad even asked the director of Lenfilm to give him the opportunity to play a good character. He laughed in response: “Did you look at yourself in the mirror?”

And everything continued. When he played a German in "Restless Household", people on the street began to let go of curses at my father's address, mistaking the actor for his hero. He fled, and they shouted after him: “Oh, you fascist nit!” And only at home, closing the door behind him, dad sighed with relief: “The people love me, they will recognize me.”

But he never used his popularity for selfish purposes. In the queue for vodka, they repeatedly persuaded:

- Sergey Nikolaevich, why are you standing there?! Come in, we'll let you through.

But the Pope always refused:

We are not after bread!

My father said that in Russia the fastest and most reliable way to popularity is through drinking companions. And enjoyed it. The feast occupied an important place in his life. Sergei Nikolayevich liked to order a chic dinner in a restaurant, inviting people he knew or liked to his table. One day, the attention of the pope was attracted by some important, huge man in uniform, passing by.


— Pull up, old man!

- I'm not an old man, Sergei Nikolaevich, but Admiral Zasosov.

“That changes things. Rip it up, admiral. Let's take a drink with you.

My father had an excellent sense of humor. He was the author of catch phrases that went to the people. So, opening another bottle, he liked to say: “The old woman suffered for a short time in experienced bandit hands” or “Pour seven times, drink once.” By the way, the famous phrase "Two stars, three stars, four stars, and best of all, of course, five stars" in the film "Carnival Night" is my father's improvisation.

But when popularity began to take on catastrophic proportions, it began to irritate him. Well, who will like it if a herd of fans walks behind you and everyone strives to pull your shirt and even your nose, annoyingly climbing with stupid questions. Do not answer to everyone who offered to drink at brotherhood with the words of the hero from Carnival Night: “I can’t, my dear, I have a lecture!”

In the restaurant, when they started staring, my father covered his face with a plate. And if someone unceremoniously approached his table, he could furiously tear off the tablecloth from the table along with the dishes. A certain lady once asked Filippov to leave an autograph on her chest. He rushed to run away from her headlong, on the way giving in the teeth to a drunken old man who climbed up to hug.

The Pope did not tolerate familiarity. “Oh my God,” he shouted desperately, “what am I to you - an animal ?! Can you pass by and let me live as I want? Sometimes he arranged pranks in which there was a moment of vindictiveness. One winter, my father was walking with Pavel Kadochnikov along the Nevsky. And suddenly he rushed to the snowdrift and began to quickly rake the wet snow. Kadochnikov asked in surprise:

- What's the matter, Seryozha?

He answered loudly:

- Yes, they gave me a ring with a diamond, and it accidentally fell into the snow. Wow, what a shame!


Kadochnikov realized that this was a joke and winked at his friend. A minute later, a whole crowd was already looking for the ring. And then dad waved his hand:

- Come on, they'll give me another one.

He and Kadochnikov left, but the people continued to dig in the snow.

My father loved pranks. Mom told how they went to the thrift store together.

Do you accept used goods? Dad asked.

- An inheritance from your grandmother? Something valuable? the salesperson perked up.

“Pretty much,” said dad and pointed to the briefcase.

“How can you walk the streets with such things nowadays?!

Father took out a bundle and began to unfold it for a long time. He carefully laid out two bagels on the counter and looked at the seller.

- But excuse me, but where is the inheritance from my grandmother?

- As where? Here. Is this a commission? Do you accept used goods? Antiques? - and he began to furiously beat the bagels on the counter, proving their "old" origin. This scene could be included in some kind of comedy. My father was a great improviser and constantly invented something.

After the release of the film "Girl with no address" he did not live at all. People shouted after him: “Masik wants vodka!” He began to be afraid of creative meetings with the audience and avoid them in every possible way. As my father's character Almazov said, he had "shattered the central nervous system." Filippov could swear at a complete stranger who just asked for an autograph. If he was reproached for being rude, he answered: “Rough, but fair!”

But all this was later. And at the very beginning of his career, his father literally reveled in fame. He was especially pleased with his success with women. Life was stormy, he often did not come to spend the night, and of course, tension grew in the family. And then I arrived in time and gradually began to displace from my mother’s heart the beloved Seryozha, who had hitherto reigned supreme there. The house stopped admiring his talent, instead admiring the talents of little Yura.


- What do we have for dinner? No semolina? Dad asked as he sat down at the table.

- Yurochka porridge, and stewed vegetables for you.

Papa gloomily picked at his plate with a fork:

- What is it?

- Gemuse! - the mother-in-law announced triumphantly.

- You work like an ox, and at home they feed you some kind of hare food.

- Seryozhenka, you boor! - Lyubov Ippolitovna slammed the door of her room, and a plate of guemuze flew after her.

— Oh, that's how! Dad exclaimed, putting on his coat. “They don’t like me here. They feed some kind of presnyatina. I'm going to the pub!

Father needed the radiance of Jupiters, the adoration of the audience, the admiring glances of fans. Mom wanted her to have a real family, a cozy home, a faithful husband and an exemplary son.

I got a nanny. A simple village girl who had never heard of the great comedian Filippov. Papa began to show interest in her, not suspecting that Lyubov Ippolitovna was following them through the keyhole. "You are my Goddess! - he began to frown on the nanny. “You are my grace ...” Then the door creaked and mother-in-law Lyubov Ippolitovna appeared on the threshold. “We are rehearsing ... “Dog in the Manger,” dad quickly found. This scene was later included in Ryazanov's film The Girl Without an Address. And the grandmother, we must pay tribute to her, hid the “pranks” of her son-in-law from her mother until their divorce ...

I began to remember myself from the moment I was presented with watercolors. First I painted myself, and then my father's beige coat. So already from an early age, the talent of the artist manifested itself in me. I also loved to watch my dad shave. And all the time he asked to shave me too. He got fed up with it and shaved half my head. When I saw myself in the mirror, I burst into tears. But the razor still attracted me like a magnet. Once I hid in the hallway, lathered the hem of my grandmother's fur coat and carefully shaved it.


I was often left at home alone. When the parents were going to go somewhere, the grandmother immediately came up with an urgent business for herself, just so as not to sit in the nannies. Dad found a way out: he drove small carnations into the floor, gave me a hammer and instructed me to hammer them to the very hat. And until the parental return, I was happy to bang on nails. And when my grandmother began to be indignant that it would soon be impossible to walk on the floor, my father ordered me to drive nails into a mahogany cabinet.

The family idyll ended as soon as dad was invited to act. He received money, and the whirlwind of freedom carried him away. After another week of spree, my mother packed her father's suitcase and showed him the door, taking a log in her hand for greater persuasiveness. Dad was offended: “You will crawl to me on your knees! To me, adored by the whole country! And he waited for this all his life, but he waited in vain. Many times dad tried to return to the family, asked for forgiveness, swore eternal love. But, as my mother said, “the log was always ready, but he lacked a little pressure, a little patience ...”

Soon the war began. The comedy theater was evacuated. And although my parents were already divorced, dad made sure that we, along with my grandmother, were taken out of besieged Leningrad to the mainland.

For the first time we lived in Sochi in vans, and then we were transferred to Tajikistan. I remember that the film "The Prince and the Pauper" was filmed in Stalinabad, where I played a ragamuffin in the crowd. During the evacuation, the family reunited. Dad continued to act and still led a bohemian lifestyle. He returned home very late and with the words “Today they didn’t give money!” dropped dead in the hallway.

Mom sewed rag dolls at night, and grandmother painted their faces. For nothing, or something, I learned from Roerich himself! Then she sold them at the market.


In autumn 1945 the theater returned to liberated Leningrad. On Shirokaya Street, where we lived, my mother did not let my father go. He settled in the Astoria Hotel, and then Akimov procured a room for his beloved artist. But my father did not have to live there ...

One day, as usual, he dined at the hotel restaurant. Someone said something, dad answered rudely, a fight broke out, and a fork was stuck in his hand. Madame Golubeva was sitting at a table nearby. She not only stood up for the actor, dispersing the brawlers, but also bandaged his wound, after which she took Filippov, stunned by such attention and affection, to her home. And in the morning she hinted: “You were so-and-so yesterday, Seryozha, screaming. God forbid, someone knocks on the organs! Dad got scared and stayed with his new friend.

Red mullet, as her father called her, was thirteen years older than him. To the question “Sergei Nikolaevich, what is a red mullet?” he answered: "Little little fish with bulging eyes." It still hurts me that he had such an old and ugly wife! I'm sure dad didn't like her much. And she adored him, affectionately called Weevil. Golubeva followed him everywhere - to the shooting, tour, did not let him breathe freely.

When he came home very drunk, he shouted at her: “Old witch, I'm tired of you! I have a beautiful wife and a talented son!” And in the morning Antonina Georgievna whispered again: “Seryozha, you were carrying this again yesterday, they will put you in jail!” She kept him on a short leash. Golubeva was a member of the Communist Party and a member of the Writers' Union, as a result of which she had a reverent love for party leaders in general, and for Sergei Kirov in particular. She even wrote a book about his childhood - "The Boy from Urzhum". But her text was so bad and childishly clumsy that when she handed over the manuscript to the editor Marshak, he completely rewrote it. When the father was asked:

writer Antonina Golubeva

Why doesn't your wife write anymore? he answered gloomily:

- I've run out of ink.

Dad settled with Golubeva in the late forties. On the embankment of the Griboyedov Canal, in house number nine, where the writers Mikhail Zoshchenko, Evgeny Schwartz, Veniamin Kaverin, Mikhail Kozakov lived. Sometimes I went there. Golubeva, who commanded my father with might and main, tried to drill me too. But I did not recognize such a right for his concubine.

Boy, are you reading anything? She never addressed me by my first name, only "boy." - Do you like poetry?

- I love...

- Well, read it.

And I started from Arkhangelsk: "Not a woman - a raspberry, / A masterpiece on the canvas - / Marusya Magdalene, / Fully undressed."

— What vulgarity! You, boy, should read pioneer books.

“For example, “The Boy from Urzhum,” my father quipped.

“This is a very useful book; more than one generation of pioneers has grown up on it,” the great writer answered dryly.

Papa and Golubeva were not officially married, although they lived together for forty years. In 1948, my mother filed for divorce officially. But dad never received his certificate of divorce. He probably spared twenty kopecks for the fee.

With the advent of Golubeva in my father's life, my mother and I had a difficult period. One day I was called to the principal of the school. Unfamiliar uncles and aunts asked strange questions: do I eat well, do they beat me at home? The next day, my mother was requested to the RONO. It turns out that there was a signal that she treats her son badly, and he leads an immoral lifestyle. One woman from the commission whispered that this information had been given by the communist Golubeva. My mother transferred me to another school. And there again nit-picking teachers and bad grades. She went to the director and to the RONO, trying to understand what was happening. She was told everywhere that they came from Sergei Nikolaevich and asked to be stricter with his son: “He is a notorious hooligan!” Yes, Golubeva seriously took up my "education". Fleeing from her, I changed five schools.

And we were in a desperate financial situation. After the war, my mother graduated from the foreign language, taught the technique of speech. In addition, she worked as a correspondent writing in English. Thanks to my mother, I have an excellent knowledge of the language, which later came in handy in America. But my mother's salary was still not enough for us to live. And there was no help from my father. He even wrote a statement to the court with a request to release him from alimony, since the mother of the child, instead of buying fruit for the boy, makes repairs for him, Filippov. The judge replied that then she would simply open a criminal case against him, a great artist. Later, the father bitterly admitted that Antonina Georgievna forced him to do this.

I think it was because of the eternal quarrels in the new family that my father drank heavily. Along with this, problems began in the theater and cinema: at the studio, he said that he was busy in performances, in the theater - that he was filming. True, there was always money for alcohol. So, one day, with his friend, the poet Mikhail Dudin, my father took fifty volumes of the Great Soviet Encyclopedia to a second-hand bookstore, followed by a three-day revelry. When Barabulka asked where the books had gone, he replied that ... he gave them to Dudin to read. It was then that it turned out that in one of the volumes the thrifty writer kept a decent sum of money.

At the same time, Sergei Nikolayevich was far from enthusiastic about the spree of his colleagues. Seeing a young actor at Lenfilm, who literally did not knit a bast, dad sighed and said to him in a paternal way: “You don’t drink according to your talent!”

It happened that he left the house ironed, well-groomed and in a tie. And by evening, muttering “How low I have fallen,” he returned without a tie, without a shirt, and even without socks! Red mullet was jealous of him all his life. But why be jealous? She was almost like a mother to him, and he, like an unlucky child, tried to slip away from her. Golubeva always stalked at the service entrance. And my father left the theater fifteen minutes before the end of the rehearsal and went to the famous wine glass on Mokhovaya, where many artists dropped by.


director Nikolai Akimov

In someone's memoirs, such a scene is described, which was regularly repeated. Dad entered the apartment and loudly demanded: “Red mullet, a glass of vodka!” If she was not in a hurry, he, holding an empty glass in his hands, began to count: “R-one, two”, at the expense of “three”, the glass flew out the window. Coffee cups might follow.

Despite his love of drinking, his father had an amazing memory, fellow artists told how they envied his ability to memorize huge texts. He could come to the performance drunk, but he went on stage and was instantly transformed. Akimov treated Filippov's slovenliness condescendingly: "For me, a talented drunkard is more precious than a dozen mediocre teetotalers." But after one incident, his angelic patience snapped. During the performance, dad stood backstage. He was drunk. On stage, the hero was poured a glass of vodka, he began to drink it in small sips. Suddenly, dad commented, so much so that it was heard in the hall: “Who drinks like that? mediocrity! Drink a full glass in one gulp! Now I’ll go out and show you how to drink!” The audience was delighted. But Akimov, who was also sitting in the hall, the next day called him to his office. The director took the list of the troupe's artists and crossed out Filippov's name with a red pencil.

— Is everything, Nikolai Pavlovich?

— Everything, Sergey Nikolaevich.

My father only had movies. But in him he was a god! Filippov was the only one of the Soviet artists who received money before filming began. "Suma in cuirsive!" - Dad's favorite phrase. And all because he "did the box office", like his Almazov from "Tiger Tamer". Father's phrase "Love your fee as yourself!" became winged among the actors. And he had endless concerts around the country. It was enough for Filippov to go on stage and say: “Two stars, three stars, four stars, or better ... five ...”, as the audience began to applaud while standing.


My father insisted that I also become an actor, saying that I had data. I spent my childhood behind the scenes of the theater, I saw many talented artists on stage, but I categorically refused, I did not become infected with this craft. And all because I'm a terrible lazy person and I work only when I want to. The actor, on the other hand, is a slave.

As a result, my mother decided my fate: “Son, since you don’t like to do anything, go to the artists!” Naturally, my decision to become a man of a free profession terribly angered dad, he could not forgive this for a long time and often repeated: “Without me, you still won’t achieve anything!” And I so wanted to prove that I could achieve a lot without his help! And my father was indignant about my hippie hairstyle, skin-tight jeans, into which I sewed metal zippers from shoes. We experienced the usual conflict of generations.

In a word, I entered the Mukha. And then it turned out that the scholarship for the student Filippov had not been issued. The dean's office explained that they came from Sergei Filippov and said that the artist's son does not need a scholarship, since his father provides him with everything. And I thought that Golubeva was tired of chasing me! The scholarship was returned, but the sediment remained ....

And in the second year it was even "funnier".

- The representative of Sergei Nikolayevich told us that you are in prison, - they told me in the dean's office.

How is it in prison? I go to class every day!

- Well, you are clever, Filippov! How do you manage to keep up everywhere?

We saw less and less of my father. But when, after graduating from the institute, I started having troubles in the Hudfond, I could not stand it and asked my mother:

- Mom, you raised me, taught me, my father practically did not take part in my upbringing. Tell me why I then bear his last name?

- What happened, son?


“Don’t you know that this communist has already made it to the Art Fund?” The father is a weak man, and she acts on his behalf. So I want to take your last name and your middle name.

And I told her how in Hudfond I was stopped by a certain lady with traces of her former beauty on her face.

“Daddy wants to meet you.

— Excuse me, your dad?

- No, your dad! Sergey Nikolaevich doesn't feel well, and they asked me to tell you through me...

“Madame,” I began to boil. - What kind of dad is that?! Tell this dad that I will visit her as many times as this dad came to me in the hospital!

Some more time passed. I again ran into the same madam in the corridor.

- Yura, visit your father, he is waiting for you.

You must be confusing me with someone else.

Are you Yuri Sergeevich Filippov, son of Sergei Filippov?

“You are mistaken,” I said, and solemnly took out a brand new Soviet passport. — See? Yuri Ivanovich Gorinovich!

She looked at me in horror.

— How could you?

The fact that I changed my surname was a terrible blow for my father. But I could not forgive him for not protecting me from the poisonous bites of his concubine. Well, if you don’t help, then don’t bother me and my mother to live!

I have always been a free man. Once I was forcibly dragged into the ranks of members of the CPSU. They called me to the big party chief, but I honestly confessed to him:

- I can’t go to the party, I love feasts, women, every week I’m a new lady, I can’t help myself.

He looked gloomily and said:

Let's fight together, comrade! We will help you!

My answer was too bold for the time:

Thanks, I'm on my own.

A couple of times I managed to laugh it off. But soon I noticed that they began to overwrite me at work. I was engaged in the design of the Pushkin Museum, so I was sure that I would also work at the Tsarskoye Selo Lyceum. But due to the fact that he was not a member of the party, the order was given to another. I was indignant: “But Pushkin, too, was never a member of the party!” This was the last straw, I decided to leave.


The OVIR demanded a written permission to leave from the father. Mom and I went to him for a signature. But Madame Golubeva didn't even open the door for us. Then we decided to guard him at the house. Look, he's walking towards the front door.

- Dad, I need your signature on the document that you have no material claims against me.

My father looked at me very carefully.

— And who are you? Don't know!

- How you do not know? I'm your son.

“I have no son,” he replied coldly.

“And you don’t recognize me, Seryozhenka, either?” Mom asked.

Her father looked at her, his face distorted, it seemed that he was about to cry. Then he turned abruptly and ran away from us. Then I realized that he still loves his mother...

“He waited until we ourselves came to bow to him,” she said sadly.

Mom did not marry after the divorce, and although my father lived until the end of his days with another woman, he never married her. My parents even died in the same year, but in different parts of the world: my mother was in America, and my father was in St. Petersburg...

That meeting with my father on the Griboyedov Canal was the last. We didn't see each other again. Never. A certificate from him was handed over to me through third parties.

Much later, when my father was no more, I collected all the memories of him, of his life, from friends and acquaintances. He wrote letters to all the artists who knew Filippov. One of the first people to answer me from Paris was Yulia Nikolaevna Predtechenskaya, mother of Mikhail Shemyakin. In the forties, she worked with her father at the Comedy Theater. Yulia Nikolaevna told two wonderful stories. Once they were returning home together after the performance. I had to walk for a long time. There was a fair frost, and on Predtechenskaya there was a fashionable meningitis cap, a fur jacket, a skirt, Polish gasuka stockings (that was the name of kapron) and shoes with heels. Suddenly she stops abruptly and says:


Serezha, I can't take it anymore! Take off your pants quickly!

The father was taken aback:

- Julia, you're not joking, can't you stand it?

- I can't, take it off!

The father thought, “Why not? A beautiful woman is literally trembling with desire, ”he took off his pants, and she quickly pulled them on herself and ran to Petrogradskaya ...

Now the second: the father borrowed three rubles from Yulia Nikolaevna and forgot about it. And Misha Shemyakin, who was then thirteen or fourteen years old, liked a book in the store. He runs to his mother for money, and she offers: “Go to the theater to Uncle Serezha Filippov, he owes me three rubles, tell me that I sent you for them.” Misha approached his father backstage:

- Uncle Seryozha, I am the son of the Forerunner. Mom told me to pay the debt.

Dad looked at him in surprise.

"Boy, we're actually playing here!" Wait.

Holding out a three-ruble note after the performance, he said with annoyance: “What a persistent son Yulia Nikolaevna has!”

Gaidai's offer to play Kisa Vorobyaninov in "12 Chairs" made his father so happy that he even stopped drinking. But on the set he was constantly tormented by terrible headaches, and before dubbing he underwent a complex operation. The amazing surgeon Felix Alexandrovich Gurchin removed a benign tumor and part of the cranial bone to his father. He had a noticeable breathable film on his crown, the doctors strictly warned: God forbid, something would fall on his head! And dad began to wear caps with a tight top, caps, hats. He often jokingly suggested to his friends: "Do you want to feel my brains?" My father believed that he was very lucky, because after the operation he lived for another twenty years.

Igor Usov, in the role of the merchant Smurov in The Tobacco Captain, saw only Filippov and personally went to his house to persuade him. Lidia Borisovna Dukhnitskaya, the second director, told me about this scene. They came to the Griboedov Canal, went up to Filippov's apartment and froze in amazement - Antonina Georgievna was sitting on the floor at the front door, begging her enraged husband to let her into her own apartment. Only a terrible mate could be heard from there, and Igor Vladimirovich decided to intervene:


"Uncle Seryozha, stop fooling around!" Let's work better together!

The door opened slightly, but Filippov let only Usov into the apartment, and Barabulka remained on the landing. Dad complained to the director:

- I can’t do anything - neither drink, nor smoke, nor act in films! Only a mother can swear!

To which he replied:

- You will definitely shoot with me, and we will take care of you.

On the set, dad had three understudies, they were filmed from the back. And for him, several dense wigs were specially sewn to protect his head from blows. After the operation, my father began to have difficulty remembering the text. But even if he forgot something, he acted out the episode in such a way with facial expressions or gestures that no one could suspect anything. Filippov did an excellent job with the role, he even sang and danced in the frame.

Friends said that when he was ill, Golubeva put him into a lace bed in a nightgown with flounces and a jabot. I imagine this picture: it seems to me that dad looked like the Wolf from Little Red Riding Hood. Antonina Georgievna shook over him, bought him flowers, saying: “Seryozhenka loves roses so much!” Tellingly, Barabulka never remembered her own daughter from her first marriage and gave all her unspent motherhood to her beloved Weevil.

On New Year's Eve, she hung a New Year's ball on an old lampshade, each time adding one more. In this way, every year Serezhenka lived after the operation was celebrated.

Antonina Georgievna died in the late eighties, and dad was left alone. I constantly called him, offered to help, but he refused. My father was still filming, took part in creative evenings, received a good pension, as he assured me. But one acquaintance told how once he met Filippov in the market, he was buying potatoes. The father complained that Golubeva's relatives forgot about his existence. Only friend Kostya visited his father, who studied with him at the ballet school. Now he helped him, sometimes went to the grocery store, cooked. The actress of "Lenfilm" Lyubov Tishchenko wore transfers to the hospital for him, washed his shirts. Papa complained to Lyuba that KGB men seemed to him everywhere, that he was being watched. Maybe they really followed. After all, he himself regarded our departure with my mother as a betrayal of the Motherland. And it turns out that he was the father of a traitor ..


He showed Tishchenko my letters: “You see, Lyuba, the son writes. Still loves, misses. And these letters were not opened - he did not read them, but carefully kept them ...

I lived in America, where I ended up in a completely different world. At first, everything about him annoyed me. In addition, he asked for a quiet state, and they offered me Alabama, where the Ku Klux Klan operated. My mother and I were settled in the very epicenter of racial squabbles. I was tired of all this, and I bought a ticket to New York.

As an artist-designer, I worked for many well-known companies: Ralph Lauren, Estee Lauder, designed some Broadway theaters, interiors in the homes of millionaires. Today I have many awards and certificates: "The First Five Hundred in the World", "2000 Remarkable People of the Twentieth Century", my name is listed in the "Hall of Fame"...

But I never left the thought that with all the success in my life I missed something. Past quarrels with my father at a great distance seemed so insignificant! Only he could love so much and be jealous of my mother and me for someone else's life, for a foreign country. The memories snowballed. For some reason, episodes from childhood came to life more and more often in my memory. For example, once my father took me hunting. He had a rare gun with four barrels. We walked for a long time through the forest, but returned without any prey. To play a prank on mom, they bought a bread hare in a bakery. Until our secret was revealed, she was terribly worried that we had killed a living creature!

After the death of my father, I returned to Petersburg. By chance I met Lydia Borisovna Dukhnitskaya.

— How he loved you, Yura! He was proud of you.

What a strange kind of love...

- When we met with him without Barabuli, he always talked about you. I was very sad that you left. Did you even call him?

- Of course, we talked, but my father did not answer my letters.


She seemed to look at me in surprise. But do not tell her about all the details of our family relations, about how long it was to return to each other ...

When Golubeva was still alive, I called my father from America, but every time the great writer answered the phone, and I hung up, knowing that she would not let us talk anyway. Then I began to look for another way to establish contact with him.

An old friend of mine lived in Leningrad. Her name was Tanya. We corresponded, she was aware of all my affairs. And we came up with a plan. In the Palace of Culture named after Gorky there was a creative evening of Sergei Filippov. During the break, no one was allowed to see her father, but Tanya courageously made her way through the cordon.

— What do you want?

- I'm from your son. He asks to know...

- I do not have time. It's time for the stage. Who are you?

- An acquaintance of your son Yura. He just asked to know if you are alive?

- Well, he's alive, he's alive. So give it to him. Some crazy!

Dad, just like me, did not suspect then that this "crazy" would enter my life. Soon Tanya came to me in America, we

Drunkard, alcoholic, rowdy, rude, but what a talent! - so they said in St. Petersburg about the actor Sergei Filippov, who played the role of Kisa Vorobyaninov in the film "The Twelve Chairs".

At one time it seemed that there was not a person left in the northern capital who, during Filippov's life, would not overturn a glass or two with him, would not shake hands with him at a meeting, would not exchange a few words. At first, the actor was flattered by wild popularity. “Yes, I am great, brilliant...” - he did not get tired of repeating these words to the crowd of fans. But after a while, his own glory began to put pressure on his throat. “Get away from me, let's go to hell,” the actor was not shy in expressions when he was asked for an autograph for the thousandth time.

And in recent years, they say, Filippov allegedly completely lost his mind. He married a woman twenty years older than him, spent all his days in an old cluttered apartment, refused any filming. Sometimes he was seen in the courtyard of his own house in the company of homeless people. All these idle talk spread through Peter with incredible speed.

The MK reporter managed to meet a person who was next to Sergei Filippov in the last years of his life. What the popular actor lived in those difficult times, the oldest employee of Lenfilm, Lyubov Tishchenko, shared with us.

He was a strange man, with a peculiar manner of communication. I think such extraordinary personalities are born once in a hundred years, - Lyubov Grigoryevna began her story. - Being already a frail old man, Sergei Filippov increasingly recalled his ballet past and was very sorry that he did not become a ballet star, but went to the cinema. He graduated from ballet school and, according to teachers, had good prospects. He left the ballet not of his own free will - the doctors discovered a brain tumor in him, performed a series of operations and forbade him to dance. Filippov also often recalled his theatrical work, conflicts with the artistic director of the Comedy Theater Akimov, who did not allow Filippov to play the roles that he wanted ...

- It is known that Sergei Nikolayevich broke up with his first wife after she emigrated to America?

He was a communist to the marrow of his bones, so he regarded such an act of his wife as a betrayal. This had a marked effect on his psyche. At that time, his roof literally “went”. It seemed to him that he was being watched by the KGB, some people were constantly dreaming. He later said, “Of course I was a fool. I had completely different views on life, I was brought up like that ... ”. Years later, he realized that he had done wrong. Once Filippov confessed to me that he would never have left his wife if she had not left for the States.

- He also did not communicate with his son?

The wife took her son away when the boy was finishing school. Sergei Nikolaevich died without seeing his child. And I had the address of his son. Once I hinted to Filippov: isn't it time to start a correspondence with him? He screams: “I don’t want to, I won’t!”. But through this “I don’t want to”, such sadness was visible in the eyes! After all, when his family emigrated, he abandoned not only his wife, but also his son. As a result, the boy had to change his last name and patronymic. By the way, this is why Filippov never liked children. When I talked about childhood, he shouted that this is the most terrible time in a person's life.

- Did the son try to contact his father?

I remember Sergei Nikolaevich pulled out from under the bed a whole bundle of unopened letters from his son. “If you want, read it, but I'm not interested,” he told me. But the most interesting thing is that he did not throw out a single letter. Apparently he was waiting for something. I hoped that my son would return. To be honest, I thought that sooner or later he would show up and help with money. But the son arrived only five years ago, when Sergei Filippov had long been dead. No one told him about his father's death. I was not up to it then - I was looking for a place in the cemetery, and the adopted daughter and granddaughter of Filippov from his second marriage at that time were taking the bundles out of the actor's apartment.

“The actor was indifferent to the death of loved ones”

The second wife of the actor was a certain Antonina Golubeva, who was twenty years older than Filippov. In the acting environment, did this woman at that time cause a storm of negative emotions?

I do not know what caused such an attitude towards this touching and loving woman. Filippov called her Barabulka and became very attached to her. Golubeva was a writer, however, she wrote only one book. They met at a festival. She followed Filippov on all tours, constantly watched him and was very jealous. Despite such surveillance, Filippov still managed to spin several novels on the side. True, Barabulka never found out about this. And he often repeated: “Yes, I love good girls ...”.

- They say that in the apartment where Filippov lived with Barabulka, complete chaos reigned?

It was a strange, completely unadapted family. They had a terrible mess at home! Filippov himself never cleaned, he could not even cook himself scrambled eggs. Red mullet also did not run a household. I don't even know what they ate. There was always a rolling ball in the refrigerator. It is strange that Barabulka did not communicate at all with her daughter and granddaughter. Once she invited Filippov to meet with them, but he flatly refused. But they showed up after the death of the actor. Literally in two days, they removed all the furniture and expensive service from Filippov’s apartment, and handed over the rest of the things to the commission.

- Was Sergei Filippov really famous as the most greedy actor at Lenfilm?

On the contrary, he was a very wasteful person, so he did not save anything for his old age. And in his youth, he did not even know the value of certain things. In Soviet times, he could get any deficit and constantly pampered his friends. Filippov had a very rich library in his house. When I once again came to his house, I did not find a single book. It turns out that when Filippov had problems with money, Golubeva sold the entire library for some ridiculous money. The worst thing is that Sergei Nikolaevich kept a decent stash in one of the volumes.

- You said that Red mullet was touching, what was this character trait manifested in?

Once Sergei Nikolaevich brought her an expensive fur coat from an expedition. When winter came, Golubeva cut off the bottom of a chic coat. Filippov then was indignant: "Red mullet, what's the matter?". “A short fur coat suits me better, and then everyone wears it like that now,” the wife smiled. Later it turned out that Barabulka had to shorten her fur coat, as moths had eaten its lower part. But she was so afraid of upsetting Sergei Nikolaevich that she came up with such a legend. A similar story happened with Filippov's sweater. Red mullet gave him a beautiful Scottish sweater for his anniversary. But Sergei Nikolaevich did not even have time to put it on, as the moth did its job. As a result, the pullover was all in a small hole. But here, too, Barabulka reassured her husband: “Now everyone wears it like that, it’s fashionable.” So Sergei Nikolaevich wore this sweater.

- They say Filippov drank heavily. Why did it happen?

No matter how trite it sounds, fame ruined him! During his wildly popular period, everyone wanted to have a drink with him. When Filippov's body was young and strong, he did not refuse anyone. And then the actor could not do without it. Every day he had to take cognac or vodka. The mullet didn't like it. When they came to the Cinema House, Sergei Nikolayevich immediately went to the buffet. Then Red mullet ran up to him and snatched another glass from his hands. But lately Filippov has completely stopped drinking. Firstly, he had nothing to buy alcohol, and he never asked anyone for a loan. Secondly, he was already a seriously ill person.

- Sergey Nikolaevich was very worried about the death of Barabulka?

She died two years before his death. Oddly enough, he didn't care at all. The fact is that in older people there comes a moment when they take the death of even a very close person calmly. This is what happened to Filippov. I remember when we said goodbye to Antonina Grigorievna at the cemetery, he stood with an absolutely indifferent face, did not shed a single tear.

“Filippov was shy about his appearance”

- Lyubov Grigorievna, why did you take care of the sick actor?

I have always liked him as a person. This unsociable rude actor was actually a touching and vulnerable person. Although to strangers he seemed cruel. After all, he could easily offend a complete stranger - get nasty and even send obscene language. But it was not the real Filippov, so he defended himself. Believe it or not, he was extremely negative about his own popularity. He truly hated his fans. After the release of the film “The Twelve Chairs”, he could not calmly walk down the street - people wanted to touch him, talk to him. Filippov was terribly annoyed by this. Often it came to fights.

- When he was left alone, who was in charge of his house?

Filippov was a lonely man. He himself chose this way of life - he did not let anyone into his house, turned off the phone. Colleagues at Lenfilm, knowing his harsh temper, simply deleted him from their lives. When he became seriously ill and practically could not move independently, I visited him. He yelled at me and slammed the door in my face. I forced my way into his apartment, cleaned up, fed him. "Don't come again," he muttered in farewell. But I still came, so gradually he got used to me. In the last year of his life, there were only two people next to him - me and his old friend from the ballet school, Konstantin Nikolayevich.

Couldn't you have hired a nurse?

What are you?! He didn't even call doctors. I think he was very ashamed of his appearance, of the mess that was going on in the apartment. His bathtub was full of dirty linens, and the kitchen sink was full of crockery. I came once a week and washed everything, washed it. Over the years, Filippov became embittered. He often yelled at me. But he remained very grateful. He didn't say anything, but I could feel that gratitude in his eyes. I still remember his smile when I washed his favorite white cap, with which he covered the scar on his head, and his shirt.

What money did he live on?

He received some kind of miserable pension. St. Petersburg actors have always been deprived, and especially at that time. But Filippov literally lived in poverty against the background of others. Didn't pay rent for months. Believe it or not, he was literally starving. I helped as much as I could - I bought cereals, a lemon, a piece of cheese. Lately, he's been refusing to eat at all.

- Didn't the Screen Actors Guild help Filippov?

He never asked anyone for anything. At the end of his life, Sergei Nikolayevich did not even have things left. Either sold everything, or worn out. A month before his death, we put him in the hospital. So he did not have slippers in which he could leave the house. We had to run all over the city looking for size 47 shoes. That's how they hospitalized him - in some slippers and some kind of torn shirt.

- None of the directors remembered the famous actor, did they offer to act in film?

Remembered, but rarely. He was invited to appear in episodes, but he already did not remember the words well, so he was forced to refuse. In general, he did not like to remember his work in the cinema.

- What did he look like?

Before he was taken to the hospital, he was very ill. You don't wish that old age on anyone. He understood that he looked unimportant, and was very shy about it. Therefore, I tried once again not to shine in public. A year before his death, he nevertheless came to Lenfilm. He was in a worn gray suit, and in his hands he held a shopping bag, which he never parted with. But no one even approached him at the film studio - either they didn’t recognize him, or they disdained to give a hand. And one day he could not resist and complained to me: “Look, what terrible nails I have ...”. The next day I brought tweezers, tried to cut my nails. So he began to yell from wild pain: “You understand, all my nerves are here.” And he asked to leave the tweezers: “Maybe I’ll try to do something myself ...”.

- Did he share something secret with you?

He opened up in the hospital, a month before his death. He told me the whole story of his life - about his first wife, about Barabulka, about the blockade. There is a well-known photograph from the “Siege of Leningrad” series - it depicts a man with a piece of bread, so this is Filippov ...

- They say Filippov lost his mind a month before his death?

Of course, it was a different person. He suffered terribly from headaches, his whole body ached. I think he was mentally ill too. When I came to his house, he met me in what my mother gave birth to, I threw a towel at him, forced him to cover up.

Did he talk about death?

Sometimes he could, as if by chance, throw the phrase: “Soon it’s all ...”. But he was not afraid of death. I understood this when he buried Barabulka.

Sergei Filippov died on April 19, 1990. He was buried next to Golubeva. A few days before his death, the actor told Lyubov Tishchenko about his dream.

You know, all my life I wanted to play a positive tragic role, and I got only vile types, - Filippov sighed. - I even cried when I found out that the main role in the film “When the Trees Were Big” went to Yuri Nikulin.

Sergei Filippov rarely laughed. They say that in the Lenfilm archive not a single photograph has been preserved in which the comedian smiled.

Today Sergei Nikolaevich Filippov would have turned A hundred years !

He is rightfully considered the legendary and brightest comic actor of the Soviet theater and cinema.
And although he almost did not play the main roles, the most famous artists of the country considered it an honor to meet him on stage or on the set. He was recognized immediately. Speaking mainly in small negative roles, Filippov created images that are remembered for decades. This is Kazimir Almazov in "The Tamer of the Tigers", a lecturer in "Carnival Night", Kisa Vorobyaninov in "The Twelve Chairs", the Swedish Ambassador in "Ivan Vasilyevich Changes His Profession".

In the middle of the 20th century, the traditional questions "Who is to blame?" and "What to do?" added another: "Is there life on Mars?"

This phrase became winged at the suggestion of the famous comedian Sergei Filippov, who played a lecturer in the sensational film "Carnival Night".

For the actor, this episodic role became the main one in a huge track record, and the glory of the king of the movie episode haunted Filippov all his life. It was enough for him only to appear on the screen for the whole country to be delighted with his unique, absolutely anti-glamorous physiognomy.

But as is often the case with comic actors, Filippov's life behind the scenes was dramatic. The son of a great artist does not like to appear in front of the camera, but for this film he made an exception. Over the years, it is no longer possible to establish some facts completely, and the dramatic fate of the artist in different versions is presented ambiguously, because each of Sergey Filippov's numerous entourage has his own truth about the actor.

From the diary of Sergei Filippov. "Since I had to play negative characters in the majority, I did not experience any special searches. My childhood flowed in those turbulent years when there was more nasty than good. And the actor - he, after all, like a sponge, absorbs everything" .

Sergei Filippov was born in Saratov in 1912. His father, Nikolai Georgievich, was a locksmith, and his mother, Evdokia Terentyevna, was a dressmaker and lacemaker. The family lived on the ground floor of a wooden house, they did not live well, and their parents wanted Serezha to master the craft and grow up as a hard worker. The boy worked part-time as a baker, then as a carpenter, then as a loader, until he became interested in choreography.

In 1929, it was time to choose your path in life. 17-year-old Sergei did not hesitate to go to Leningrad and entered the ballet school. But the famous Vaganova excluded Filippov from the list of students, because the young dancer constantly argued with her. So already in his youth his character was manifested. However, ballet classes gave the artist the precision of movements with which he surprised us in the movies.

Sergei entered the circus variety college on Mokhovaya Street. He immediately liked the beautiful classmate Alevtina Gorinovich, in 1932 she became his wife. In 1933, Filippov graduated from the Circus Variety College and joined the troupe of the famous Kirov, now the Mariinsky Theater. He made his debut in the play "Red Poppy", but already at the fourth performance the artist became ill. Doctors found Sergei had a heart defect and forbade him to dance. Filippov had to look for himself again, and he was pretty nervous. For some time, the artist performed on the stage with parodies, and in 1934 he met the artist and director Nikolai Akimov. He instantly appreciated the appearance and talent of Sergei, and having headed the Leningrad Comedy Theater in 1935, he immediately invited him to the troupe. Filippov immediately rushed to the theater and was surprised at how some artists reacted to his appearance: "What kind of artist is this with the face of a killer?" Sergei Nikolaevich Filippov had many envious people, and there was every reason for envy. Sergei immediately became a star of the first magnitude. Finally, stability came to the family of the young artist, they went to Filippov with the whole city. The audience wondered: in what role will your favorite artist appear this time? What unexpected escapades will surprise them?

Numerous admirers inspired Filippov that the fastest way to recognition by the people lies through drinking companions. Sergey was always not averse to drinking. The chief director of the Comedy Theater Nikolai Akimov for many years was ready to forgive him everything. He said: "I value one talented drunkard more than a hundred sober mediocrities."

The peculiar sense of humor of the great comedian is still legendary. Some aphorisms of Sergei Filippov are perceived as Russian folk sayings, for example, he owns the famous expression "pies with kittens."

In 1938, Alevtina Gorinovich gave birth to Sergei's son Yura. She had to forget about her career as an actress. Alevtina consoled herself with the thought that Sergey would spend all his free time with her and the child. But Sergei did not spend the whole night at the cradle of little Yura. Then Filippov could not even imagine how difficult his relationship with his son would be in the future. The artist was intoxicated by success, applause, he was constantly attracted to the theater. In those days, women really liked him, they were ready for anything, just to get the coveted autograph of an idol. Well, the young actresses of the Comedy Theater were completely in love with Filippov.

The star of the artist Filippov rose more and more rapidly, but it seemed that this was not appreciated at all at home. The artist's first wife, Alevtina Gorinovich, could hardly tolerate Filippov's success with numerous fans, whom he enjoyed using. And she loved Sergei. In addition, the long-awaited son Yura was born to the Filippovs only 6 years after the wedding. The artist's addiction to alcohol also did not strengthen the family. And although Sergey loved his family, success was in the first place for him. He said to his wife: "If you interfere with me, I will not look at you or Yurik. For the sake of glory I will sacrifice everything, I will leave everyone."

In the end, the wife put Sergey Filippov out of the house - after almost 10 years of marriage. But the age-old Russian addiction to alcohol constantly shifted Filippov's priorities. As if to spite himself, Sergei left the apartment where his wife and two-year-old son remained. This happened just before the beginning of the Great Patriotic War.

Filippov spent the first months of the blockade in besieged Leningrad. The frosts were severe, and the hunger was so terrible that the actors of the Comedy Theater once ate a cat. Filippov managed to feel the blockade on himself. And when he took part in one of the most poignant films about the war, which was called "Blockade", the artist did not have to play anything - he just remembered.

Sergei Filippov broke up with his family shortly before the start of the war. But when the Comedy Theater was about to be evacuated, the artist persuaded the theater management, together with the troupe, to take his son, ex-wife and mother-in-law out of Leningrad. Before the tragedy of the war, all family troubles turned out to be unimportant. In December 1941, the Comedy Theater was evacuated near Chelyabinsk. After the war, Filippov could return to his wife. But the artist did not show the proper pressure.

And in 1946, Filippov met his second wife, Antonina Golubeva, met by chance. After the war, after returning to Leningrad from evacuation, some artists of the Comedy Theater were quartered in the Astoria Hotel. In addition to comfortable rooms, "Astoria" was famous for its restaurant. And Filippov - addiction to noisy feasts. He set the table with all sorts of dishes and invited everyone to share his meal. One evening a drunken fight broke out, and Sergei Nikolaevich Filippov was accidentally wounded in the arm with a fork. A police squad appeared in the restaurant. Filippov was not detained, but he was at the center of the scandal. The well-known children's writer Antonina Golubeva rescued the artist from an awkward situation - she was sitting at the next table. Filippov was very surprised when he woke up the next morning in her apartment.

Golubeva and Filippov were more than a strange couple. She called him "Weevil", and he dubbed her "Mullet". Golubeva had a difficult character. The woman turned out to be an ardent communist. One version says that she intimidated Filippov, promising to convey to the right place about the anti-Soviet statements that he uttered in a drunken delirium. The fact that Filippov lives with a woman older than himself by as much as 13 years, only the lazy did not gossip. Weevil and Red mullet did not look at all like each other. She was very small, he was very tall. And it was clear that she was much older than him.

The artist's son Yuri claims that Sergei Nikolayevich loved his first wife until the end of his days and did not even begin to redeem a divorce certificate. But Golubeva's grandchildren presented both a divorce certificate and a certificate of a second marriage.

Against the backdrop of the intricate vicissitudes of his turbulent personal life, Filippov continued to actively act in films. The legendary fourth pavilion of the Lenfilm film studio, here before the revolution there was the Aquarium theater, here in 1896 the first film show in Russia took place and it was here that after the formation of Lenfilm all the famous films were shot, including those where Sergei Filippov played.

In 1946, director Nadezhda Kosheverova invited him to her film Cinderella. Filippov brilliantly played the role of a fabulous corporal, and his partners were Yanina Zheymo, Elena Junger and Faina Ranevskaya. In 1947, when "Cinderella" appeared on the screens of the country, Filippov settled in the apartment of his second wife, Barabulka, in the famous Writers' House on the Griboyedov Canal, 9.

According to their acquaintances, Golubeva treated Sergei like a child. She took care of him, straightened his clothes, gave him a handkerchief, brought him a drink. And Filippov treated his Red mullet very extravagantly. At times, their relationship was like childish teasing games. From the notes of Filippov Golubeva: “To Her Excellency Countess Barabulyants. After reading your letter, I didn’t understand anything. You write, you fucking chicken, like ... Well, just like a writer. "Kischay porridge with milk. Kiss the fool hard. S."

For many years, passers-by saw how in the evenings, barely moving his legs, falling and getting up, Sergey Filippov, being pretty tipsy, walked home along the Italian bridge. The bad habit of the artist was hereditary. His father Nikolai Filippov liked to drink hard. This was one of the reasons for the divorce of Filippov's parents in 1927. If Sergey loved his mother Evdokia Terentyevna, dad was a stranger to him. Despite this, Filippov's father filed for alimony in 1952 and the artist was forced to send him a certain amount of money every month. And the bad habit of Sergei himself worsened over the years. If the second wife of Sergei Filippov had a personal biographer, perhaps he would have titled the story of this woman as follows: "The difficult happiness of Antonina Golubeva." But no matter how difficult her character, Red mullet appreciated her Weevil and wanted to strengthen the family.

She even took a boy from an orphanage in 1949, and she and Filippov fed and watered him for three months, after which Barabulka handed the child back to the orphanage. Why this happened is now unknown. But after this story, Barabulka allowed Filippov's son to come to visit them.

Sergei Filippov's wife Antonina Golubeva wrote several books, but became famous as the author of the story about Sergei Kirov's childhood "The Boy from Urzhum". This book was translated into 96 languages, the writer received huge copyrights for many years. And Filippov joked: "A boy from Urzhum feeds me all my life." Golubeva, of course, tried to instill a love for literature and young Yura Filippov. On this basis, disagreements began. It got to the point that Golubeva began to come to Yura at school and say that especially difficult methods of education should be applied to him. In this regard, Yuri changed five schools. Mutual hostility grew, and in the end, Yura began to meet with his father in the theater.

And Golubeva did not let her own offspring on the threshold at all. In 1948, her daughter arrived in Leningrad with her husband and a tiny girl. They wanted to stop at Barabulka. But it was not there. Red mullet perfectly understood that Sergei Nikolayevich was 15 years younger than her and that one had to be very careful, and not a single normal woman could cross the threshold of their house, but only men. So Antonina Golubeva protected her Seryozha from the society of young women. And with her husband's addiction to drinking, she could not do anything. It used to be that her husband was waiting at the service entrance to the theater, and Filippov would slip away through the main entrance. Then the woman went out to Nevsky and asked passers-by if they had seen Filippov.

From the diaries of Sergei Filippov. "People ask me why I play negative characters? And I answer this like this. Have you ever seen the secretary of the regional committee with a face like mine? And the questioners bashfully fell silent."

In 1956, a film was released on the screens of the country, in which Sergei Filippov played his, perhaps, the most stellar role. From the artist's diary: "I had a teacher Vladimir Nikolaevich Solovyov, an unusually absent-minded person. So I took this person as a prototype." And this is the famous "Lyu-yudi! Ay? Where are you?" was born at lunchtime. We are sitting together, the operator and I, there is no one else. So I yelled to the whole site: "People! Ay? Where are you?" The operator immediately said: "We put." And inserted this random find.

Over the years, Filippov stopped losing his head from the flattering words of fans. Antonina Golubeva simply turned a blind eye to his little pranks, so nothing threatened the artist’s second marriage. With external dissimilarity, Red mullet and Weevil became very close over time. Once Filippov even wrote a receipt to his wife: “From six in the morning on January 1 until March 1, 1949, I don’t drink vodka, liquors, champagne and alcoholic beverages in general. If I break my word, Barabula will die. If I don’t fulfill my word then may I be damned forever and ever. Amen, Filippov. December 20, 1948." And Sergey kept his word, even given as a joke. However, for the time being. Both he and his wife knew that sooner or later Filippov, unfortunately, would break loose again.

In his diary, Filippov jokingly wrote: "Since 1935, I have been decorating the stage of the Leningrad Comedy Theater with my presence. This is my opinion. The management adheres to the opposite." On an October evening in 1963, the premiere performance based on the play by Ratser and Konstantinov "After Twelve" was going on at the theater. Sergey was not busy with the performance that evening. However, as soon as the action began, they felt in the hall: the feast scene went clearly not according to the script. When the actors raised their glasses, a voice was heard from behind the scenes: "Who drinks like that? I'll enter the frame now, I'll show you how to do it!" This was not the artist's first misconduct. In 1947, Sergei was already fired from the theater for appearing at a performance while intoxicated. But he was accepted back into the troupe. This time, the artistic director of the Comedy Theater, a brilliant artist and director Nikolai Akimov, took a principled position. He called Sergei Nikolaevich, took a red pencil and crossed out his name from the troupe.

The son of Filippov from his first marriage is still convinced that it was precisely the difficult relationship with his second wife that resulted in his constant dissatisfaction with life and brought him to a misconduct, after which he had to leave the theater. If Sergei Filippov had thoughts about returning to the Comedy Theater, then after the death of Nikolai Akimov in 1968, the issue was closed. After leaving the theater, the artist escaped filming a movie.

But he still loved the theater, and perhaps these experiences of the artist did not go unnoticed. In 1965, doctors discovered a brain tumor in Sergey Filippov and prescribed an operation. The tumor was excised, then the doctors insisted on a second operation - to put a plate covering the hole in the skull, but Filippov refused. Sergei Nikolaevich did not allow the doctors to fully restore his skull, covered the scar with a beret and joked, "Part of my head has become soft with age."

In those days, the Filippov family often communicated with the actor Rudolf Furmanov. When Furmanov was about to buy a cooperative apartment, Filippov lent him a large sum. The artist set aside this money to buy a fur coat for his Barabulka. And the Filippovs-Golubevs and the Furmanovs together celebrated the new year, 1969, and even made an amateur movie about it. But the plot is very sad and traditional for Filippov - how to sneak out of the house from Barabulka in order to have a drink in the restaurant of the Evropeyskaya Hotel.

In 1971, director Leonid Gaidai staged his own version of the famous "12 Chairs" by Ilf and Petrov. In this film, Filippov plays the marshal of the district nobility, Kisa Vorobyaninov. The new wave of his success is grandiose. And ahead was another brightest role - a sharp grotesque, an episode, but what. And just a few replicas that are still on everyone's lips. The great comedian Gaidai includes Filippov in the clip of his artists. In 1973, he released the film "Ivan Vasilyevich Changes Profession", in which the actor brilliantly plays the Swedish ambassador.

After the triumph, the artist perked up. But fate was already preparing new tests. In the mid-seventies, Filippov's son and first wife applied for emigration from the Soviet Union. It turned out that, among other formalities, Yura needed to get his father's consent to leave the USSR. However, the artist was categorically against it. Back in the early seventies, his son Yura, tired of the endless persecution of Barabulka, took his mother's surname Gorinovich. In addition, he hoped that with such a surname it would be easier for him to leave the Land of the Soviets. At the OVIR, they made an official request on a form and suggested that Yuri, in front of witnesses, hand it over to his father. The absence of an answer would automatically be considered the consent of the artist to the departure of his son. But when Yura came to his father, Golubeva was at home. She wrote for her husband: “I have nothing to do with my son’s decision to go abroad, I don’t know anything. It is advisable to punish him severely, preferably to shoot him. But I have no material claims.”

The first wife of the artist Alevtina Gorinovich and son Yuri emigrated to the United States. Their connection with Sergei Filippov was interrupted for a long time. Sergei was very offended by his son, even refused to read his letters. The artist's son still recalls that even in exile, his mother Alevtina Gorinovich could not forget Sergei, and he never answered letters from America. Both father and son Filippov regretted how their relationship developed. But they didn't talk about it out loud. And it was too late to change anything. Despite the acting demand and success, Filippov's depressed state was striking to many. Apparently, longing for his son did not let him go until the very end.

In recent years, many considered the brilliant comedian to be a talented but crazy drunk who married an older woman and lived in a cluttered apartment. In part, this was true. Perhaps these circumstances made him play even more piercingly.

In 1988, director Vladimir Bortko invited Filippov to star in the film Heart of a Dog. It was one of the artist's last roles.

In the eighties, Filippov rarely appeared on the screen - he did not feel well. Red mullet, being much older, also often got sick. She passed away on November 20, 1989. They have been together for over 40 years. But Filippov could not survive her departure. The great Russian comedian Sergei Nikolaevich Filippov died on April 19, 1990. He died in the hospital. Oncology. He was 78 years old.

1990 Leningrad. Northern cemetery in Pargolovo. A few weeks after the installation, his monument was stolen from the grave of Sergei Filippov - a bronze bust weighing 36 kilograms. The monument hidden in the bushes was accidentally discovered by Filippov's colleagues and taken to the Film Actors Guild. Only a few years later, having arrived from America, Yuri Filippov put a copy of the bust on the grave, already made of cast iron. I left the bronze original at home.

Writer Antonina Golubeva and artist Sergei Filippov are buried almost side by side, on the edge of the cemetery, by the road. Who are they and why is it written on the monument to a strange man in a beret "People's Artist", many people passing by do not know now.

To remember

Popularly beloved actor Sergei Filippov died hungry

Exactly 20 years ago, the famous Soviet comedian died

Before becoming an actor, Sergey Filippov managed to work in his native Saratov as a cabinetmaker, baker, gardener and even a carpenter, although he only dreamed of a stage. Sergey was lucky - he entered the ballet department of the circus school in Leningrad. It would seem that a little more, and what Filippov dreamed of would come true - work in the theater, the best ballet parts. But once at a rehearsal, the young man lost consciousness, and when he came to his senses, he found out that he would have to say goodbye to ballet: his heart could not withstand heavy physical exertion. In desperation, Sergei entered the service of the Leningrad Comedy Theater, to Akimov, and eventually became the most famous comedian of Soviet cinema. The actor has only one main role - Kisa Vorobyaninov in Gaidai's "12 Chairs", but Sergei Nikolayevich was a lifesaver for directors: his participation ensured the film's popularity, even if it was an episode. “They use me like a spicy seasoning for a bland dish,” he complained, starring in “Carnival Night”, “Tiger Tamer”, “Resistant”, “Ivan Vasilyevich Changes Profession”, “Sportloto-82”, “Heart of a Dog”. .. All his life, the actor dreamed of a tragic role and cried when he learned that Yuri Nikulin would play in the film “When the Trees Were Big”, the script of which shocked him. The actor, adored by the whole country, was very lonely. At the end of his life, strangers looked after him, and after his death, Sergei Nikolaevich lay in the apartment for several days before he was missed ...

ACTRESS LYUBOV TISHCHENKO: "THE TREASON WAS THE MOST TERRIBLE CRIME FOR HIM"

Sergey Nikolaevich met the Lenfilm actress Lyubov Tishchenko at the time when they starred together in the films of Nadezhda Kosheverova - Cinderella, The Tamer of the Tigers, The Blue Bird, Honeymoon and many others.

Kosheverova was very fond of working with Sergei Nikolaevich, considered him almost a creative talisman and took him in almost all her paintings. I also got small episodes there. Then he and I served together in the Film Actor Theater Studio at Lenfilm. Filippov has always acted a lot, but cinema was not the main thing in his life. He was very fond of ballet and regretted that he had abandoned it at one time.

- Why did it happen?

At a young age, doctors diagnosed him with a brain tumor, with such a disease, as you understand, ballet loads are contraindicated. But he had all the data in order to make an excellent career as a dancer. In addition, Filippov was dissatisfied with his roles: he was almost not offered the main ones, only episodes. His merit is that he was able to make them bright and memorable.

- Like the boring lecturer in Ryazanov's comedy "Carnival Night"?

He did not particularly like this role. When someone began to quote in his presence: “One asterisk, two asterisks, three asterisks ...”, Filippov simply shook with anger. He was a very serious and deep person and dreamed of a tragic role all his life, but for some reason it never occurred to any director to offer her to the famous comedian. In recent years, he would have been glad to play small roles, but he was not called. However, then the movie was practically not shot, the actors survived as best they could.

Sergei Nikolayevich had a particularly hard time - they paid a small pension, and there was no one to help him. He lived abandoned, hungry, useless. Of course, I supported him as best I could - either I’ll bring cottage cheese, or I’ll buy a lemon for tea, but my material possibilities are not too great either. At that time, we all lived hard, even our small salaries were not paid for months.

Sergei Nikolaevich once told me how he worked at the Comedy Theater with Nikolai Pavlovich Akimov during the blockade. When I went to the rehearsal in the morning - on Nevsky, near Eliseevsky, dying people lay right on the ground. When he came back, they were already dead, and someone even had time to cut out their body parts.

There is a famous blockade photograph, which depicts a thin man with a crust of bread in his hands, very similar to Filippov. It's not him, but the artist was starving then, like all Leningraders, severely. And at the end, his life seemed to have made a circle and returned to the most difficult times - the actor was in great need in recent years. So I left hungry...

- Lyubov Grigorievna, how did it happen that in his old age he was left completely alone?

His first wife emigrated to the United States with their son. Sergei Nikolaevich was never able to forgive her ... And not so much for leaving him, but for betraying her homeland. I remember how he told me with tears in his eyes: “I don’t understand how they could ?!”.

He was a convinced communist, a man of the old school, sincerely believed that the USSR was the country of victorious socialism, and considered America the focus of all the plagues of capitalism. For him, treason was the most terrible crime imaginable. Now his son Yuri writes memories of his father...

- That's just what he can tell if he went abroad as a child ... Did they not communicate at all?

Yura wrote to his father, but Sergei Nikolaevich never printed a single letter from him. Perhaps he was afraid to read something there that would shake his negative attitude towards them, or, in spite of everything, he hoped that his relatives would still return. Be that as it may, he did not throw away the letters, but kept them at home right on the floor, near the closet. When Filippov died, the envelopes with the contents disappeared somewhere - probably they were simply thrown away.

He loved his first wife, said that she was a charming, intelligent woman. Sergei Nikolayevich could not forget her for a long time. And then I met Barabulka...

“HALF OF THE BRAIN HAS BEEN CUT OUT OF ME, AND I AM NOTHING YET!”

- As far as I know, the second wife brought him back to life, warmed him up?

Yes, he started joking again. Antonina Georgievna Golubeva was a writer, storyteller, she knew Russian folklore well. Sergei Nikolaevich called her Red mullet - there is such a small fish. By the way, we met before her marriage - she worked as a consultant in the films of Igor Vladimirovich Usov, where I starred.

Antonina Georgievna was a very good person, but the hostess was careless. Cooked badly, cleaned even worse. Somehow I come to visit them, and Sergei Nikolayevich is wearing a sweater ... in a hole. "What it is?!" - I ask. It turns out that Red mullet cut holes in him with scissors where the moth ate the sweater. The same fate befell the fur coat that Sergei Nikolaevich brought to her from some trip to the North. The red mullet hung the new thing in the closet and simply forgot about it, but the thing was expensive, good.

When his wife began to get sick, Filippov, who had never done anything around the house before, began to go shopping himself - with a shopping bag containing potatoes, milk and bread, and looked very comical. In general, it was an amazing couple - both very pretty, but completely unadapted to life.

Antonina was almost 20 years older than her husband and was jealous of Filippov for absolutely everyone, including me, although I did not give any reasons. We didn't even joke about it. They lived, though stupidly, but cheerfully, they were very attached to each other. But when Barabulka died, he had a very bad time.

- Besides you, did no one help the actor at all?

Why not? In the last six months, his friend Konstantin Nikolayevich lived with him, whom Filippov knew from the ballet school. Sergey Nikolaevich didn’t drink then - his health didn’t allow it. Previously, he was heavily behind the collar. And here, it used to be, I would come to him, and they would sit, listen to classical music, talk about literature. I was interested in them.

The actor Vitaly Matveev, whom you should remember from the role of Old Man Makhno in the first film adaptation of the novel How the Steel Was Tempered, helped a lot. Together with him, all over the city, we were looking for shoes for Sergei Nikolaevich, and this task is not an easy one - Filippov had 47 foot sizes. The actor Oleg Belov also often visited him. I came - cooked something, cleaned, washed. The owner then completely gave up on his appearance, but I wanted him to be clean and tidy. At this time, it was already quite difficult to communicate with him. When I came, he could even send me a foul language: they say, what's up, go to such and such a mother!

- What about you?

I tried not to pay attention to it, I understood that I was dealing with an unfortunate and sick old man. In addition, he is a great actor, so he can be forgiven a lot. So she answered: “I’m not going anywhere! I have to clean up, cook something, and it’s time to wash my shirt.” He stood, taken aback: how is it, why are they not afraid of him, are they not offended?!

To tell the truth, Filippov was an intolerant person, he could hardly endure people's attention. Fans sometimes got it from him, especially since they sometimes behaved simply tactlessly: they literally grabbed his hands, his clothes.

His popularity was crazy, everyone wanted to at least touch their idol, and Sergei Nikolaevich very painfully perceived other people's touches. I couldn’t even cut his nails, each time this seemingly simple procedure became a problem: he had extremely sensitive skin on his fingertips, so it hurt. In addition, he was very sick and because of this, he also lashed out at others. By the way, Sergei Nikolayevich did not let everyone get close to him, he spoke very sharply about his colleagues, copied them evilly and funny - we laughed to tears! - and let me down.

- Why do you think?

He accepted people unconditionally, without analyzing: he either liked a person or not. I was no better and no worse than others, just, apparently, our energy coincided with him. Unlike many, I didn't annoy him. I still punish myself for the fact that, it seems to me, I devoted very little time to him.

- What was wrong with him?

Well, I already told you about the brain tumor. Fortunately, she was successfully operated on, and there were no special problems. But Filippov's temechko did not overgrow in any way: instead of a bone, he had a thin film there. I remember when we were still working at the Theater-Studio of a film actor, he once said to me: “Touch the film!”. It was so scary! And Sergei Nikolayevich still found the strength to joke about this topic. “Here,” he said, “Minister Furtseva did not love me, she said that she was a fool. They cut out half of my brain, but I’m still very much nothing!

- Who escorted the famous comedian on his last journey?

His old friends, who have nothing to do with cinema, and all our actors also came to the funeral. But none of the relatives were there. Barabulka left a daughter and a granddaughter, but they behaved extremely dishonorably.

When Filippov was alive, they did not deal with him at all. But when he died, literally in a day they took out all the most valuable things from the apartment - furniture, some services. I remember that I had to take his documents in order to arrange everything for the funeral, and they rummage through things. I could not stand it then, I shouted at them: “Let’s at least bury a person in peace, you will still have time to endure everything!” And we also arranged commemorations ourselves. It is often written that the Actors Guild and the film studio have disappeared, but this is not true - they helped a lot.

- Do you remember anything about him?

Nothing, and now I really regret it. There was somewhere a book that Sergei Nikolaevich once gave me (he had a luxurious library), but it got lost, I can’t find it. During his lifetime, he told me: “Take any books!”, But I always refused: “I don’t need anything.” She didn’t go to him for this, she just felt sorry for him and wanted to help. And we didn’t have any joint photographs with him, except for one - taken during his anniversary. He was then released from the hospital so that he could humanly celebrate his birthday at home. He was a man of God - vulnerable, misunderstood and very unhappy. That's how I remember him.

ACTOR OLEG BELOV: "WHY DO YOU SMOK SO MUCH?" - I ASKED. "TO DIE FASTER," FILIPPO ANSWERED"

Oleg Belov, who had a long-term friendship with Sergei Filippov, believes that there is a clear bias in the memories of the actor: “Most often they talk about what roles and in what films he played. And it seems to me that, first of all, it is necessary to tell what kind of person he was - difficult, contradictory, but incredibly charming.

I will never forget the first time I saw Sergei Nikolaevich "live". Once I was going to the Lenfilm film studio and I couldn’t believe my eyes - Filippov was walking towards me along Kirovsky Prospekt. At that time, its popularity could only be compared with Gagarin's.

I froze: waiting for the universal idol to pass by. And he once, and turned into the door of the house, where there was a small buffet. I follow him. And he witnessed a stunning picture: Filippov enters, takes a step forward to the bar, and the bartender behind her takes a step back and turns his back to him. The artist takes another step, the bartender takes a bottle from the sideboard, another step - uncorks it. Sergei Nikolayevich approached the counter at the very moment when 100 grams of cognac splashed in a glass.

I'm talking for a long time, in fact, they acted surprisingly quickly and in sync - like in ballet on ice. It immediately became clear that Filippov had already come here dozens of times, there was no need for any requests or conversations. He drank and, without paying, went out again into the street.

- Did he put a lot of money on the collar?

Let's just say, he lived a busy life of a popular person. Moreover, the characters played by him allowed his fans to say at a meeting: “Oh, Seryozha, let's go have a drink!”. And he didn't refuse. Well, our friendship began with a fight.

- Who fought with whom?

The fact is that the theater-studio of the film actor, in which Sergey Nikolayevich and I worked, patronized the Apatit plant in the Khibiny of the Murmansk region. And then one winter we were invited to the celebration of some regular anniversary of the plant. The company crept up a small one - Sergey Nikolaevich, I and the deputy director of the film studio. And in the morning I hear a phone call in my hotel room. I pick up the phone: “This is Filippov. I probably woke you up, but it's already time to get up, because the buffet opens at eight. And I can’t understand anything waking up: “So what?”. - "Well, let's go," he says to me, "out of disgrace." As I later found out, this was his favorite expression.

We went with him, he drank a glass of cognac, had breakfast and by 10 we went to the Palace of Culture. Some certificates were presented there to the workers of the plant, banners were taken out and brought in, and we acted as a gift. At first I sang, played the harmonica, the guitar, and then they announced Sergei Nikolaevich. When he left, the whole hall stood up and gave him a wild ovation.

It all ended at three o'clock, and in the evening we were invited to a restaurant for a banquet. At first, everything went well, as some local authorities were sitting at the table with us. But when everyone drank, the people took courage and began to approach the guest for autographs. First one at a time, and then in whole crowds: our table was surrounded so that it was impossible to breathe. And Sergei Nikolaevich was not a very restrained person, and I saw that he was slowly starting to boil, especially since he had also drunk ...

Someone has already started slapping him on the shoulder in a familiar way: “Seryozha!” And when a young woman, having stuffed everyone, tore off a gas scarf from her neck, laid it out on the table in front of Filippov: “Leave me an autograph here!”, He literally exploded: “Yes, you went to such and such a mother, bitch!”. And the lady came not alone, but with her husband, he was already running to our table: “What can you do! Completely brazen!" Sergei Nikolaevich turned around and addressed it to the same place where he had sent his wife before. Noise, panic!

Filippov jumps out from behind the table and runs across the hall, I follow him: “Wait!”. We descend from the second floor, and an unsuspecting elderly man rises towards us. With a smile, he opens his arms: "Sergei Nikolaevich!"

The artist turns around and how he will hit him! And so we run out into the street - winter, frost, besides, he sprained his leg. It's good that at least the hotel was close. I took him there and calmed him down with great difficulty. In the morning, when we boarded the train, from the side, it probably seemed that people were returning from the war: he was limping, I supported him. In the compartment we got drunk (the authorities took care of this), and Sergey Nikolaevich said: “You know, Olezhek, I never go to concerts with anyone, but I would go with you.” This was the beginning of our concert friendship.

“HE DID NOT KEEP HIS EMOTIONS, DID NOT HESITATE IN WORDS AND EXPRESSIONS. ESPECIALLY WHEN I DRINK"

- It turns out that you were a man tested in battle for him?

It just so happened. He and I visited different parts of our country, and his arrival was always a huge event for the locals. Yes, Filippov did not restrain his emotions, he was not shy in words and expressions, especially when he drank, but over time I learned to control him. I must say that wherever we went, we were received in the first category: the first secretary of the district committee always stood on the platform or at the gangway of the plane, Sergei Nikolayevich was immediately put into the car and taken to dinner. And what is dinner without a bottle? But here I was firm and demanded that the alcohol be removed: I should perform with him in the evening, what will I do then?

Filippov, however, at first tried to protest: “What is it?!”. But I quickly reassured him: “You, Sergey, better be silent!”. It happened that he managed to take it on his chest somewhere, but I immediately noticed it: “Sergei Nikolaevich, shame on you!”. And he childishly naively justified himself: “What about me? I'm nothing! Did you see me drinking?!"

- What did he say during meetings with the audience?

I recalled the shooting, made up some stories. Every year it was more and more difficult for him to perform - age and illness affected. In general, he could not invent anything special - just go out and tell a couple of jokes. Considering his facial expressions, gestures, intonations, everything he said was funny - in this sense he was a unique performer, and if he decided to go out and read the phone book from the stage, I think people in the hall would still die of laughter. This despite the fact that Sergei Nikolayevich did not decorate his performances with any special effects.

For example, he did not recognize concert costumes, he performed in the same thing that he wore every day. Comfort was his main requirement for clothing, especially for shoes. Once I could not stand it: “Seryozha, well, you can’t go on stage in slippers!” “I feel hot in my boots,” he retorted. "Okay," I said, "I'll buy you sandals, they're not hot." How he managed to get sandals of size 47 is a different story, but Sergey Nikolayevich put them on only a couple of times, and then again went on stage in old trampled shoes. And I gave up. Why torture a person? The public still forgave him everything.

- How did Sergei Nikolayevich's relationship develop with his second wife?

Antonina Georgievna, she is Barabulka, was completely matched to her husband - the same ingenuous and naive. And how touchingly they treated each other! One late evening, we flew in from somewhere from concerts, it was winter outside, it was cold. I went for the car, which I left in the parking lot at the airport, and left Sergei Nikolaevich to receive luggage. While raking the car from the snow, while driving it up ... I come - the suitcases are already at Filippov's feet. And he says to me so guiltily: “You know, I already called Barabulka!”. - "Why? - I was surprised. “We won’t get there soon, she will be nervous.”

We drive up to their house, and they lived on the Griboyedov Canal, we drive under the archway into the courtyard - I see a figure in felt boots, some kind of shapeless coat and an old downy shawl. At night, in the cold - waiting. "Why is she here?" - I ask Sergey Nikolaevich. “Well, how is it,” he was surprised, “he meets me.”

I went out first, Red mullet ran up to me: “Why are you taking so long?!”. And then she came closer and asked in a whisper: “But he didn’t call on her?” I was taken aback: "To whom?". - "As to whom - to the barmaid!". Imagine, she was jealous of him! And this despite the fact that at that time he was under 70, and she was already over 80. A lyrical couple.

“Somehow I asked: “SERGEI NIKOLAEVICH, WHERE IS YOUR SON?”. - "AS WHERE? - ANSWERS. - DIED! AND I DID NOT EVEN GO TO HIS FUNERAL "

- It seems that, having lived to gray hair, Sergei Nikolayevich remained a child!

So it was! Once we got together on tour, and the posters ran out. I had a connection in the printing house, and I agreed that they would print it for me in two days, but from ready-made clichés. In another printing house, they agreed to make this cliche, but underground: they had to carry it through the checkpoint on themselves. Have you ever seen a cliche? It's like a photo, but on a metal base and casts with all the colors of the rainbow, like gasoline on asphalt. They tucked this thing - 45 by 30 centimeters - under my shirt, and I came to Filippov's house with a straight back. He was completely delighted. “Red mullet,” she screams, “look what Olezhka did to me - I have never had such a beautiful portrait!” - "Sergey Nikolaevich, - I explain to him, - this is not a portrait, but a cliche to print posters!". And then he uttered a brilliant phrase: “Will you give me at least one poster?”.

- Did you communicate so closely until the end of his life?

Over time, life separated us. Relations began to fade when we stopped going to concerts - after all, work connected us mainly. When Barabulka died, he was left all alone and somehow wilted. Coming to Lenfilm, I often saw that he was sitting in a corner in an armchair and looking at one point.

They say he sat there for hours. From time to time I came to him, put him in the car and drove him to the store to buy some clothes and food, but he was already indifferent to everything, nothing pleased him. Once I came to him and was amazed at how dirty and neglected his apartment had become. And terribly smoky - in all rooms there are cans of cigarette butts. “But I’m still sick,” he said sadly to me. "Why do you smoke so much then?!" - I could not stand it. He looked at me so sadly and said bitterly: “And this is to die faster.”

- Did you tell me anything about your son?

Never and nothing. Yes, I didn’t ask him - I understood that it would be painful for him to talk about it. But once the conversation nevertheless turned to children, and I asked: “Sergei Nikolaevich, where is your son?” - "As where? - answers. - Died! I didn't even go to his funeral. For a long time I was sure that this was the case, until I found out that death and departure for permanent residence in America were equivalent things for Sergei Nikolayevich.

- Ironically, the son did not come to his father's funeral either.

His son Yura appeared in Leningrad many years after the death of Sergei Nikolaevich, came to the Comedy Theater, where Filippov worked for many years, promised the actors a tour in America. Naturally, none of this worked out. He called me several times, offered to meet, but I, remembering that Sergei Nikolayevich himself had excluded him from his life, refused.

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