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Georgy Millyar.
An Old, Old Clown
ESSAY · ARTEL MAGAZINE
A story Georgy Frantsevich Millyar told in 1989 — and The Old Clown, the film based on it and made with the support of the Presidential Foundation for Cultural Initiatives.
Text by Kira Magid
A story Georgy Frantsevich Millyar told in 1989 — and The Old Clown, the film based on it and made with the support of the Presidential Foundation for Cultural Initiatives.
Text by Kira Magid
We made the film The Old Clown, with the support of the Presidential Foundation for Cultural Initiatives, based on a story that Georgy Frantsevich Millyar told me back in 1989. The whole country’s favorite Baba Yaga had almost stopped appearing in films by then and lived in retirement in a little hut on the 18th floor with a classic fairy-tale granny, Maria Vasilievna — Manechka.
Back then, in 1990, Georgy Millyar was 86 and in splendid shape. He looked like a classic fairy-tale grandfather in spectacles, behind which smiled his magnified, simply enormous eyes. On the little table there was always a ball of string from which he wove rugs for the floor. The hut was full of all sorts of little elephants, Buratinos, Cheburashkas, little dragons and teddy bears… What also caught the eye were an icon on the wall and a portrait of Georgy Frantsevich’s father — a Frenchman from Marseille, a railway employee who died at the age of 30. Georgy Frantsevich’s mother was a Siberian and worked as a bookkeeper. He himself was born in Moscow and remembered the city before the revolution, with its cab drivers, cobbled streets and kerosene lamps.
“The revolution happened,” Georgy Frantsevich explained, “because first, during the German war, butter disappeared, then sugar ran short, and when there were problems with bread, the women standing in queues for all of it grew indignant — and the revolution began.”
After it, Georgy Frantsevich recalled, he went south to relatives in Gelendzhik. There he got stuck working as a props man at a theater: the civil war had begun, and he had no great desire to cross the front line.
Georgy Frantsevich took it very hard that he was getting on the bus and setting off on the long journey to the studio less and less often. In summer he didn’t even go to his dacha, waiting for a call that would summon him to work. In the daytime Baba Yaga usually went to his best director — the mirror — in front of which he twirled, jumped and pulled all kinds of faces. That was how Millyar kept himself in shape.
Back then, in 1990, Georgy Millyar was 86 and in splendid shape. He looked like a classic fairy-tale grandfather in spectacles, behind which smiled his magnified, simply enormous eyes. On the little table there was always a ball of string from which he wove rugs for the floor. The hut was full of all sorts of little elephants, Buratinos, Cheburashkas, little dragons and teddy bears… What also caught the eye were an icon on the wall and a portrait of Georgy Frantsevich’s father — a Frenchman from Marseille, a railway employee who died at the age of 30. Georgy Frantsevich’s mother was a Siberian and worked as a bookkeeper. He himself was born in Moscow and remembered the city before the revolution, with its cab drivers, cobbled streets and kerosene lamps.
“The revolution happened,” Georgy Frantsevich explained, “because first, during the German war, butter disappeared, then sugar ran short, and when there were problems with bread, the women standing in queues for all of it grew indignant — and the revolution began.”
After it, Georgy Frantsevich recalled, he went south to relatives in Gelendzhik. There he got stuck working as a props man at a theater: the civil war had begun, and he had no great desire to cross the front line.
Georgy Frantsevich took it very hard that he was getting on the bus and setting off on the long journey to the studio less and less often. In summer he didn’t even go to his dacha, waiting for a call that would summon him to work. In the daytime Baba Yaga usually went to his best director — the mirror — in front of which he twirled, jumped and pulled all kinds of faces. That was how Millyar kept himself in shape.
“
I’m an unconventional formalist. Because I always look after my form — to keep it in good shape.
Millyar was loved by little and grown-up people alike, and he received letters and parcels from them from every corner of the Soviet Union. The parcels treated him to new potatoes, lemons, cranberries and all sorts of goodies. Dogs loved him too, familiar and unfamiliar ones: the moment they met him they would put their paws on his shoulders and try to lick his face. Georgy Frantsevich himself adored opera and operetta and could not live without music.
Georgy Frantsevich was also a wonderful inventor. He composed a special dictionary of sayings for every letter of the alphabet.
— Georgy Frantsevich, the letter “L”, please.
— L? Let’s see,” Georgy Frantsevich recalls, “‘Love is not a luxury but a matter of hygiene.’ Now… ‘C’… ‘Clumsy compliments are like kisses from an unshaven man.’ ‘Q’ — ‘Questionnaire: an unhealthy interest in someone else’s biography.’ ‘S’… — ‘Subordination: never remind a mountain that it was made out of a molehill.’”
After telling me about himself, Georgy Frantsevich sadly complained that nobody invited him to act in films any more, though he still had so much to give. Recently he had been invited to perform for children. He prepared a program and drew pictures of his characters as presents, but the meeting was cancelled… And they forgot to tell him. Georgy Frantsevich kept waiting for that meeting with the children, but it never came.
In 2024 we completed the story and, together with director Oleg Fomin, made the film The Old Clown. The lead role was played by Vsevolod Nikolaevich Shilovsky. Maxim Nikulin served as the film’s consultant. It shows that nothing in this world simply disappears. And the memory of such wonderful actors who have passed away lives on.
Georgy Frantsevich was also a wonderful inventor. He composed a special dictionary of sayings for every letter of the alphabet.
— Georgy Frantsevich, the letter “L”, please.
— L? Let’s see,” Georgy Frantsevich recalls, “‘Love is not a luxury but a matter of hygiene.’ Now… ‘C’… ‘Clumsy compliments are like kisses from an unshaven man.’ ‘Q’ — ‘Questionnaire: an unhealthy interest in someone else’s biography.’ ‘S’… — ‘Subordination: never remind a mountain that it was made out of a molehill.’”
After telling me about himself, Georgy Frantsevich sadly complained that nobody invited him to act in films any more, though he still had so much to give. Recently he had been invited to perform for children. He prepared a program and drew pictures of his characters as presents, but the meeting was cancelled… And they forgot to tell him. Georgy Frantsevich kept waiting for that meeting with the children, but it never came.
In 2024 we completed the story and, together with director Oleg Fomin, made the film The Old Clown. The lead role was played by Vsevolod Nikolaevich Shilovsky. Maxim Nikulin served as the film’s consultant. It shows that nothing in this world simply disappears. And the memory of such wonderful actors who have passed away lives on.