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    PARAJANOV ABOUT PARAJANOV
    By Iryna HORDIICHUK

    The Day Weekly Digest
    Jan 25 2012
    Kiev

    The exhibit "Parajanov. A touch" is underway in the National Taras
    Shevchenko Museum

    In two years the great film director Sergei Parajanov would have
    turned 90, he passed away over 20 years ago. To commemorate the
    original artist, an unmatched mystifier, "the freest man in the
    enslaved world," the National Taras Shevchenko Museum launched an
    exhibit of the works of Ukrainian cameraman Yurii Harmash and theater
    and film director Vinicio Arias Rojas (Costa Rica).

    Yurii Harmash got acquainted with Sergei Parajanov back in his student
    years in 1969. Like many of his colleagues, he was practically
    hypnotized by the creative work and personality of the director,
    who was different from everyone else, a Tbilisi-born Armenian, who
    shot his most famous films in Ukraine.

    Harmash photographed Parajanov for the first time several days
    after the director was released from jail, in January 1978, in the
    apartment of Parajanov's wife Svitlana Shcherbatiuk. In 1982-83 he
    observed the artist through his camera in Tbilisi, and in 1988 -
    in Ivan Mykolaichuk's home village Chortoryia, Chernivtsi oblast.

    Those photo works made the groundwork of the exhibit organized within
    the framework of the project "In Memoriam. Sergei Parajanov" with
    the assistance of the Ministry of Culture and Tourism of Ukraine, the
    National Union of Moviemakers, the Armenian Association of Cultural
    Relations, and PARADJANOV ART.

    Harmash's pictures, bearing unique historical significance and made by
    a high-skilled cameraman, are full of a personal attitude of a person
    who cares about Parajanov's memory. Not only have the photos kept the
    moments of life of the genius director, which are gone for good, but
    they also revealed themselves in a peculiar meaning in the exhibit and
    were supported by words about Parajanov said by the most outstanding
    personalities in the world of cinematography of the past 20th century.

    Make your own judgment.

    Jean-Luc Godard: "Cinema has a picture, the light, and reality.

    Parajanov was a master and host of this temple."

    Michelangelo Antonioni: "The Color of Pomegranates by Parajanov, whom
    I consider one of the best contemporary directors, stuns with its
    perfect beauty. His contribution to cinema above all is in creating
    a unique cinema language. The world of Parajanov's films is a magic
    combination of color, plastic, music, and word. The scenes from his
    films show encyclopedic knowledge of Eastern culture and art and
    rampant imagination."

    Andrei Tarkovsky: "In the USSR you could not avoid being intimidated.

    Yet they failed to intimidate Parajanov. He is probably the only person
    all over the country who embodies the adage: 'If you want to be free,
    be free.'

    "There are few men of genius in the history of cinema. Robert Bresson,
    Kenji Mizoguchi, Oleksandr Dovzhenko, Sergei Parajanov, Luis Bunuel...

    None of these film directors can be confused with each other. They
    all were pursuing their own ways, maybe with certain weaknesses and
    eccentric manners. But they always did so to the end of a clear-cut
    and deeply personal concept."

    These words said by Parajanov's fellow artists once again prove his
    undoubted mastery, innovation, creative originality, yet he was not
    a monument to himself. He lived like other people do: he was wildly
    in love, he quarreled with his family, he caroused with his friends,
    he played tricks on them and gave them generous presents; he suffered
    and strongly believed that he was exclusive.

    In the interview below, Parajanov tells about... Parajanov. Maybe
    everyone who admires the director's creative work will learn a bit
    more about him as a person.

    The following is not autobiographical notes of the bright,
    unexpected in everything he was doing and the way he was living,
    Sergei Parajanov. These are living memories of a person, who was
    close to the great director, his nephew Georgy Parajanov.

    Georgy is a professional moviemaker. Several years ago his documentary
    How I Died in Childhood, dedicated to his uncle, closed the official
    program of the Cannes Film Festival. It tells about retribution for
    being genius and what sufferings may await the select few.

    The picture won the grand prix of the International Film Festival
    "Golden Apricot" in Yerevan. It also won the First Prize, a Gold Plate,
    of the Ismailia Film Festival (Cairo) and was recognized by the film
    critics as the best film of that forum. How I Died in Childhood
    also won over worthy competitors in the film showing in Fukuoka,
    Japan, and at Moscow's Stalker it was nominated for Golden Eagle,
    a prestigious prize of the Russian film academy.

    Our meeting was absolutely accidental. Georgy PARAJANOV came to Kyiv
    incognito, on business, to shoot a film about an original Ukrainian
    artist Maria Pryimachenko. We were introduced to each other by an old
    friend of mine, cameraman Volodymyr Pika, who was helping the director
    in Kyiv. I could not but use the opportunity and interview him about
    his famous uncle. He agreed with kindness and Eastern gallantry.

    When did your earliest memories about Sergei Parajanov form?

    "I can say that I was near my uncle for my whole life, since my
    birth, although there was a time when Serezha [since his childhood
    years Georgy have been calling his uncle by this name. - Author] was
    residing in Kyiv or served his term in prison. But we lived together
    in one house for the last 12 years of his life, in 1978 through 1990.

    These years, hours, and minutes became the best and richest time of
    my life, my great universities. However, I must admit that he was not
    the main authority in my childhood years. My first teacher was Grandma
    Siran, mother of Serezha and my mother Ruzanna. As a memory about her
    I wrote the screenplay Everyone's Gone and it won the Andrei Tarkovsky
    Memorial Prize. Maybe, I will shoot a full-length live-action film. At
    the moment I am working on a long novelette, which I have entitled
    Everything I Remember. Not only does it concern Sergei Parajanov, but
    also the events that took place before I was born, but I know about
    them. Grandma told me stunning stories. I must say that many people who
    have published memories about my uncle and his house became very tense,
    waiting for the book's publication. They are nervous and jealous."

    It is known that Sergei Parajanov was not a simple man. Maybe he could
    be at times unrestrained, even rude. What was your communication like?

    For you perceived Parajanov not as a genius, but simply as family.

    "I understood pretty well who was living near me. I appreciated his
    every word and movement. For example, I liked very much to look at
    Serezha's hands while he was eating. I have never seen anything more
    beautiful and perfect. It is unbelievable how the man behaved with
    a simple piece of bread. With what awe was his thick hands holding it!

    Of course, I understood what a figure my uncle Serezha was. On the
    other hand, he was never a fanatic, never went crazy, never put on
    airs because of being a great man. I fell in love with his collages,
    films, friends, etc. But it was a routine life for me. Like bread
    and butter. See, the fact that I was born presented me with it. Some
    people imagined communication with Sergei as an incredible feast,
    but for me it was folkways: we had quarrels and argued. And in 1978
    he incarcerated me."

    How?

    "Just imagine. However, I did not go to jail. But I was tried for
    an attempt to kill my uncle. On one wonderful day he literary drove
    me mad. I was so mad that I took an axe and went towards him, and he
    ran to the police office and wrote a complaint. Later we reconciled."

    Do you go often to your Tbilisi house?

    "Sergei's son Suren sold it for 5,000 dollars long ago. It makes
    me feel sad, because I believe... I did not want to tell you, but
    I will: I believe that the house won't bring happiness to anyone,
    like the money he was paid. My old Grandma cursed the house."

    Why?

    "I think that our house saw and knows too much. I think it should
    have collapsed. It had to collapse! And I wanted to build a fountain
    on that place, so that water simply purled on the square where our
    house used to stand. Unfortunately, it has been redesigned; there is
    nothing left from its tracery balconies. It is not our house anymore:
    Sergei died, my mother died too, I have left Tbilisi long ago. I was
    the last one who locked our house's door and made, in my opinion,
    a genius collage, Everything that Has Been Left from My House. It
    shows two keys, a toilet mirror, and a lock. Viktor Bazhenov is going
    to publish a wonderful book of photos Sergei Parajanov and the super
    cover features my collage."

    Does the surname Parajanov help you or become an obstacle?

    "It both helps and hinders. It opens many inaccessible doors: the
    officials have to listen to me whether they want it or not. Maybe they
    won't assist me, but they have to receive me. Sometimes they even give
    money for my projects. But the surname also irritates many people. It
    simply irritates them. I think, Sergei did harm to many. Justly.

    Justly! But he did harm.

    "Sergei needed to die for people to start yelling about him at every
    corner. And he knew in his lifetime everything about himself and
    created Parajanov's image. Serezha was the best image-maker ever.

    People like him start the wars, make revolutions. He made a revolution
    in cinema, in the genre of collage. No director over the world has a
    house museum like the Parajanov Museum in Yerevan. The Fellini fund
    includes only 12 ties, and that's all, whereas many presidents who
    came to Yerevan consider this an honor to have dinner in Parajanov's
    museum, and Charles Aznavour sings there and eats dalma. So, my uncle
    deserved such attitude. Serezha understood pretty well who he was. He
    often said when his temper was short (addressing his wife Svitlana
    Shcherbatiuk) - my aunt can confirm my words if she remembers. He
    shouted, 'You all will be cashiers in my museum!' though there was
    no museum at the time. And he was making predictions: 'You will be
    sitting there and stealing money! There will be 200 visitors, and
    you will tell there were 120!' (laughing)."

    Have you ever seen dreams about your uncle?

    "Every night."

    Are these dreams colored?

    "Yes. I see only colored dreams."

    Do you know who else sees them?

    "No."

    They say, schizophrenics see them.

    "Who said I am normal? Do you want to say that you are normal?"

    I'm not for sure.

    "I have never seen any black-and-white dreams. But I do see colored
    dreams every night."

    Aren't you exaggerating?

    "No, child, I never lie. Real Sergei Parajanov comes to me at nights.

    One day I saw Andrei Tarkovsky. I knew him personally. He was Sergei's
    closest friend, he came to our house. They were friends and understood
    each other well, and when Andrei died, my uncle missed him a lot;
    he said there was no one whom he could tell anything. I see Sergey
    in my dreams practically every night."

    Does he tell you anything?

    "Maybe he does not speak so really with me like I am speaking with
    you. He does not look at me in the way I am looking at my favorite
    aunt, who is sitting in the corner now [Parajanov's wife Svitlana
    Shcherbatiuk. - Author]. And when I wake up in the morning, I receive
    an incredible supply of emotional energy after a prayer. Apparently,
    my uncle wants me to create something. Maybe make a new collage? I
    cannot live without this, this is what makes me happy."

    What good things did you pick up from your uncle?

    "This is a good question. One day Sergei said a very important phrase
    to me: 'I hate you; you have become a secret observer of my life.'
    That I bit in his breasts and was suckling them. Like a she-wolf. At
    that time I did not understand what he meant, but time has passed and


    From: Baghdasarian
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