We know not what is good until we have lost it. This popular wisdom is quite appropriate for the life and creative work of the brilliant Ukrainian actor and film producer Ivan Mykolaichuk, who could mark his 68th anniversary on June 15.
Telling The Day about Mykolaichuk, Les Serdiuk said: “Hadn’t he died so tragically and promptly, the Ukrainian cinema would have been different.” This may sound too loud unless there were such films as Tini zabutykh predkiv (Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors), Propala hramota (Lost Letter), and Vavylon XX (Babylon XX), which are included in all Best Ukrainian Movies lists.” Mykolaichuk was directly involved in all three of them: he played the main part in the first movie, took part in directing and writing the screenplay for the second one, and shot the third one following his own screenplay.
Top-class films, which are liked by the masses and, at the same time, aesthetes and intellectuals show the versatility of Mykolaichuk’s multifaceted talent and depth of thought and, on the other hand, the simplicity, clarity, and power of his message. This is a wonderful combination, which, in fact, distinguishes a man of genius. But there was a problem: Mykolaichuk was born in the wrong place — the Soviet Union. It was the wrong place for him because he called his country Ukraine, not Little Russia or a Soviet republic, and spoke the language that others wanted to render extinct.
SHADOWS
Mykolaichuk had three birthdays: the first one on June 15, 1941, when he was born as the fourth child into a family that eventually had a total of ten children and lived in the village of Chortoryia, Vashkiv raion, Chernivetska oblast. The war broke out a week later. His wife Marichka Mykolaichuk told The Day about his second birth: “When the war broke out, his father was told to take the child [from the hospital], the sooner the better. He got into his horse-driven cart and rushed to get them.
“But when he was bringing them home, a German fighter plane attacked them. As his father swerved off the field, he pulled reins abruptly and the cart turned over, covering all of them. Whether owing to the cart or a miracle, none of them was hit with a bullet. Ivan used to say later that he was out of favour with Satan in this world since his birth.” He indeed was out of favor, Marichka said — with the Communist power. But this will happen after Mykolaichuk’s third birth, after his first and most renowned role as Ivan Paliichuk in Serhii Paradzhanov’s movie Tini zabutykh predkiv (Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors).
As he appeared in a full-length movie for the first time, Mykholaichuk had the rare luck of playing the main part in what was a work of cinematographic genius. The movie initiated an entire cinematographic style, “poetic cinema,” and was shown at nearly 30 cinematographic festivals around the world. In Paris people stood in lines to buy tickets for this film, and the French cinema critics said: “You see, we are witnesses the birth of a masterpiece.”
Paradzhanov’s career started from this movie — until then he was little known and was considered a mediocre director. Likewise, the career of cameraman Yurii Illienko, who had been known before only for certain experiments with the camera, took off. The movie was also the beginning of Mykolaichuk’s success — unfortunately, his song was shorter than that of Dovbush, but it was still beautiful.
Serdiuk said: “Tini zabutykh predkiv was an academy where Yakutovych was learning from Illienko, Illienko was learning from Paradzhanov, and Paradzhanov, from Illienko. Ivan also entered this academy. I can’t say that he was lucky to do this. History chose him to play both Shevchenko and Paliichuk at [nearly] the same time. (During a break in the shooting of Tini zabutykh predkiv Mykolaichuk was offered to play Taras Shevchenko is the film Son [A Dream] — Author.). It is a run-of-the-mill job now: four or five serials are shot at a time, all very similar, and only the cues are in a different order. At those times every sequence was rehearsed, and every millimeter was verified by both the cameraman and the director.”
The movie was shot in the Carpathians in the same place where Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky once stayed. Moved by the stunning beauty of the land and the local pagan rituals of the Hutsuls under the cover of the Christian religion, he wrote the novel Tini zabutykh predkiv. On the wave of Khrushchev’s Thaw, Paradzhanov was offered to make its film version.
Mykolaichuk was not approved for the role immediately. In fact, another actor had been approved. But the first one had an argument with the director, whereas Ivan was a pleasant shock to everyone because of his incredibly passionate try-out and huge acting potential. He also won people over with his somehow mystic kindness and tolerance. “When he came to the testing, Serdiuk said, they started teaching him how to put on hachi (trousers) and bast shoes. And he was tactful enough to listen to all of this, smiling to himself silently — he was born in Bukovyna, and wore these since his childhood years. He did not offend anyone, responded politely and did his job.”
They say that everybody was astonished by his ability to sense people and his empathy, which is hard to find now. Serdiuk concurred, “I think that this was a unique man, presented by the Lord to the Ukrainian cinema. Whatever good things are said about him, he still was better, because he was deeper. Not everybody was able to get what was going on in his soul.”
DEMONS
Marichka said, “After several main parts [he played] they understood that he had an inclination for nationalism, although he said and shot only the truth as it was.” Obviously, Mykolaichuk was a patriot, which is natural, and a contrary inclination would have been abnormal. Both Nikita Mikhalkov and Sergey Bondarchuk are now beating their breasts and shouting that they are Russians. Luc Besson emphasizes his French origin at every turn. Andrzej Wajda has always proudly stated that he is Polish. And all of them shot films about their native things, their land, and in their native language. So Mykolaichuk was trying to do the same. But it was the wrong time and the wrong country.
After playing in 15 movies, he suggested to Illienko an idea for a movie. Together they wrote the first screenplay for Bily ptakh z chornoiu oznakoiu (White Bird with Black Mark), and Mykolaichuk was preparing to play a part in it, which he had intended for himself. He was prevented from doing so under the excuse that, as Marichka said, “he is a too brilliant an actor to play these kinds of roles.”
This role was indeed a special one, because it was concerned with the subject forbidden in the Union—the subject of the Banderites and the UPA Liberation Movement in western Ukraine. According to the film plot, when the World War II breaks out, each of Les Dzvonar’s three sons in Bukovyna makes his choice: the oldest, Petro (Mykolaichuk) joins the Red Army, the middle one, Orest (Bohdan Stupka) joins the guerrillas who later organize the Ukrainian Rebellion Army, while the youngest, Bohdan (Yurii Mykolaichuk), stays at home.
Obviously, Ivan simply had to play Orest. Even now it is not altogether clear why he agreed to play Petro, a Communist and a Red Army officer. Marichka says that Mykolaichuk was offered the part of Petro instead of Orest, and he agreed because the film, which was hanging by a thread, could have been rejected completely.
This way or another, the film was shot, and it was a new artistic bomb that broke the stranglehold on the throat of the Ukrainian cinema. The next year the film won the main prize of the Moscow International Cinema Festival, which was short of a scandal: it was unheard-of that a film on the Banderites was a winner at the Union’s main festival! How dared they! It did not matter that Orest was portrayed as a negative character, or at least as a victim that had been trapped.
However, the explosion went further than the domain of cinema. The movie terrified Moscow. In 1972 Volodymyr Shcherbytsky, a member of the Presidiums of the Ukrainian and Soviet Supreme Councils, was appointed First Secretary of the Communist Party of Ukraine. He was an evil demon of Ukraine, who negated the achievements of the Ukrainian cinema over the previous decade. He fired the top administrators of the Ukrainian State Cinema. “The White Bird” was officially blacklisted, and it practically entered the mortuary of reserve films at the Oleksandr Dovzhenko Film Studio. Ivan was not paid anything, and he had just laid foundation for his mother’s new house.
Strange as it may seem, he did not fall out of favor, probably because his bird was Petro the Communist, and Mykolaichuk had many times played Communists. He was an actor, and actors do not always play only kind and pure people. They should also show the evil for people to know its face. In Mykola Mashchenko’s best film Komisary (Commissars) he said in one scene that the party was “rotten to the core.” He was not executed for this, but the film was banned. It was shown only in the 1980s, during the perestroika.
It appears strange now that these kinds of purely Soviet movies like Komisary (Commissars) could be banned and that the ban was issued by the KGB. In such cases a heavy and sticky shadow fell on those who took part in creation of such movies, and it stuck to them for a long time.
Who could have believed that Propala hramota (Lost Letter), the Borys Ivchenko movie, which was one of Ukrainians’ most favorite movies and one of the best produced by the Oleksandr Dovzhenko Film Studio, was banned from cinemas and was shown as a lowest-grade movie in several cinemas of Ukraine. However, from the standpoint of the contemporary understanding of directing, editing, and actor performance, its quality is impressive: the apt and smooth transitions between episodes and scenes and appropriate visual illustration of songs.
Everything started successfully: the screenplay was written by Ivan Drach, the money was allotted, Borys Ivchenko was supposed to shoot the movie on the condition that Mykolaichuk would be playing the main role. Of course, Mykolaichuk agreed. He took a big hand in the making of this movie, which was evident — Ilchenko had never had any other comparable movie before or after this one. Mykolaichuk’s wife confirms this, “No scene was shot without Ivan. Every day after supper Ivchenko was waiting for Ivan to discuss with him the process of shooting the next day scene.”
“Drach said, Marichka Mykolaichuk said, that he allowed Ivan to do whatever he wanted. He said that he trusted him fully.” That is the reason why the movie sprouted very nice improvisations, which Mykolaichuk and Fedor Stryhun ventured at every turn. These improvisations were spread among the people and became aphorisms. However, this happened 15 years later. “Ivan and Yurii Illienko were invited to Sweden by UNESCO, Marichka said, They already had tickets and international passports. But the movie had to be given approval prior to their departure. Ivan flew to Moscow and from there he was supposed to go abroad. But the movie was not accepted.” Mykolaichuk returned the tickets and came back to Kyiv.
ANGELS
One could disagree and argue, but this would not have helped. At the time, these kinds of things were not helpful. But Mykolaichuk was not a shy person: when necessary, he raised his voice and argued.
“Of course, he had conflicts with the management and his friends,” Serdiuk said. “How could he avoid them, when Boria Brondukov wanted one thing and Ivan needed something else. And then a bullfight would start. Of course, it came to shouting! But it was all about movie making so this was a creative thing. And this is the only way to produce striking truth, stunning scenes, glances, and words.”
Everybody says that Mykolaichuk took his movies and roles closely to his heart. When he learned that Komisary (Commissars) was “edited” beyond recognition, he nearly fainted. When they had to remake Propala hramota, he watched Brondukov make excuses before the then head of the Dovzhenko Film Studio and said emotionally, “Boria, who are you casting pearls before?”
Serdiuk says that while editing Vavylon XX, he asked everyone to come and see the result, thinking someone could give advice or suggest changes. When the shooting of the movie Taka tepla, taka piznia osin (Such Late Warm Autumn) were being delayed because of the studio’s management and everyone was telling Mykolaichuk that there was still time, he replied, “This is true, we have time, but who will return yesterday’s sunny weather to me?”
Sometimes, they didn’t understand him, for example during the shooting of that same movie Taka tepla, taka piznia osin. Serdiuk said, “We were ‘idling’ for a day or two, but Ivan did not give orders to shoot. The crew started getting nervous. I asked him, Why aren’t we shooting? He replied with bitterness, ‘Look at the sky and the nature. This is Chopin, while I need Mozart.’”
On top of other troubles, he had monkey wrenches thrown into his works. This happened with several movies: Bilyi ptakh z chornoiu oznakoiu, Propala hramota, and later Kaminna dusha (Stone Soul) for which he wrote a screenplay, but was prevented from shooting it. Why? “We have enough of your Carpathians” was the excuse, as Marichka recalls.
Mykolaichuk was mostly distressed by the situation with Nebylytsi pro Ivana (Fables about Ivan). This is nearly the last tragic moment of his creative and physical life. “Ivan had niece Olesia,” Mykolaichuk’s wife said, “She lived with us for quite a while. She asked him all the time to write a fairytale for her. This is the way Nebylytsi pro Ivana (Fables about Ivan) appeared.
“Everyone who read it said that this was something special. It remained on the shelf in the film studio for three years, and he was allowed to make a movie only when he fell seriously ill, and could barely do anything. My husband said, ‘If God gave me health, I would shoot it. I would have shot it. I can see it in my head.’ The permission was granted in 1986. On Aug. 3, 1987 Mykolaichuk died. He was only 46 then.
After Mykolaichuk’s death Ivchenko all of a sudden took up the filming of Nebylytsi pro Ivana. “He didn’t even tell me anything,” Marichka said, recalling those times. “The nature sets and the actors had been selected, when Roman Balaian suddenly came up to me and asked about my opinion on the filming. This was a great shock to me.”
“If Mykolaichuk had shot Nebylytsi pro Ivana, Serdiuk contemplated, it would have been a different kind of film — with all due respect to Ilchenko and his heroism in undertaking this project. They were different people, in spite of being close friends. There are some secret things that Mykolaichuk could ‘tell’ via images, show with the help of a cinematographic picture.”
In Mykolaichuk’s film Vavylon XX the wandering philosopher Fabian (played by Ivan) says, “When a poet dies, something special dies with him that no one can grasp.” Serdiuk believes this phrase to be the essence of Mykolaichuk’s nature.
When Mykolaichuk died, many links, plans, and, correspondingly, ways of their realization were broken. As an actor he played in 36 movies, but there could and had to be many more. On wished there would be more, but this will never happen. It is unfortunate, because he always tried to make movies for people, says Serdiuk, and needed people to “co-live” and “co-feel” with him.
Natalka Sumska, who played with him in Taka tepla, taka piznia osin, said, “People often remember him. It often happens so that he is recalled in conversations, at festivals, in TV programs, and on trains, because openness and frankness were his dominant features. He hid nothing behind his back. Certainly, he was a person with whom I wanted to work. Therefore I was immensely happy that he got me involved in his movie.” But he could fail to become an actor or director. In his young years he built a railway station with his father and floated timber. He wanted to become a doctor. Instead, he became a bird without black marks.
