Filed Under: Topic > Jazz > Viktor Tsoi interviewed at the Golden Duke Film Festival, 1988

Viktor Tsoi interviewed at the Golden Duke Film Festival, 1988

This eight-minute interview took place in September 1988 on a cruise ship named after the famed Russian opera singer Feodor Chaliapin (1873-1938) chartered for Odesa’s Golden Duke Film Festival. Bathed in the bright Odesa sun, journalist Sergei Sholokhov (1958-) spoke with rock musician Viktor Tsoi (1962-1990) and film critic Natalia Razlogova (1956-) about the insurmountable generational tensions within the perestroika-era Soviet film industry. 
 
Tsoi was in Odesa to promote Rashid Nugmanov’s (1954-) film The Needle (Igla, 1988) as it made its domestic festival circuit debut. The conversation with Sholokhov centers on Tsoi’s sense of incongruency among his fellow festival attendees. Both the rock musician and Razlogova maintain that Tsoi, as a public figure, and The Needle, as a cultural phenomenon and cinematic text, exist outside mainstream Soviet film discourse—a situation that has made attending the Golden Duke a less-than-pleasant experience (“this is not our jam”). Razlogova invokes Tsoi’s fame and influence as the Soviet Union’s ultimate rock icon, contrasting his status with the stylistically and thematically unadventurous fare the film festival has chosen to showcase. For Razlogova, all the Golden Duke has to offer are unfashionable “dad movies” (papino kino). Even the event’s younger participants—apart from herself, Tsoi, and Nugmanov, of course—are, she says, artificially compelled to look and act passé. 
 
Sholokhov—whose later claim to fame was engineering the notorious “Lenin Was a Mushroom” (1991) television hoax with avant-garde composer and professional trickster Sergei Kuryokhin (1954-1996)—names celebrated Soviet filmmaker Eldar Ryazanov (1927-2015), who apparently received fewer interview requests than Tsoi, as a point of contrast to the young rocker. Tsoi and Razlogova are visibly unimpressed, insisting that they, and Nugmanov’s film, ended up at the festival “by accident.” Asked if he has been attending screenings, Tsoi remarks vaguely, “I try…I try.” It transpires that only one film at the festival has piqued his interest so far: Leningrad director Oleg Teptsov’s (1954-) historical horror flick Mister Designer (Gospodin Oformitel’, 1987), which he and Razlogova regard as a similar “fly in the ointment” to Nugmanov’s creation. This film, Razlogova remarks, has been “passed over in silence”—as though the people who viewed it had absolutely nothing to say. 
 
The pair’s unwillingness to align themselves with even the “avant-garde” elements in contemporary Soviet cinema (which Razlogova deems just as stodgy as their more “commercial” counterparts), and their phlegmatic responses to Sholokhov’s many provocations, reflect the generalized despondency and disenfranchisement of late-Soviet youth. The upheavals of perestroika forced the “last Soviet generation,” as anthropologist Alexei Yurchak would term them, to navigate the uncomfortable and newly bewildering cultural protocols of what they perceived as the distant past.