"I have a rule: after the premiere, you need to clean the floors at home"
Danil Chashchin, one of the most notable directors of his generation, has a rare freedom today: he feels equally confident in theater and cinema, works with classics and modern material, gathers the main young stars of the industry on one stage and is not afraid of unexpected artistic solutions. In the competition of the Pilot TV series festival, which ended in Ivanovo on June 21, he presented the melodrama about ballroom dancing "Jive". Behind the external lightness of the genre is a story about a person's inner choice. Before the show, Danil Chashchin told Izvestia why the character should be uncomfortable, why he focused the action of "Karenina" on the train, how modern tracks help to hear Tolstoy, as well as about the rule of mopping floors after each premiere and the boys from Tyumen.
"The irony is that I don't dance at all!"
— "Jive" is about obsession with victory. Are you personally familiar with this?
- yes. Since childhood, I had a passion for football, but unfortunately, I was not a talented player. Art demands sacrifices, but it doesn't accept them from everyone. Football did not accept my victims. Then the theater appeared, and everything coincided here — passion and result.
When I create a play or a film, the process is important to me, not victory at any cost. If it doesn't add up, it's easier for me to survive failure with the people I love than success with those I won't shake hands with later. I prefer to work with those I want to embrace, and in an atmosphere where everyone enjoys and feels like part of a family, a brotherhood. This is not the case everywhere. People often cross boundaries to achieve results.
— And what boundaries would you never cross?
— Humiliation of a person. I know examples where, for the sake of the result, an actor is brought to such a state that he then goes to a psychologist. These methods are violent and destructive, and they seem strange to me.
The teachers said, "It must be uncomfortable for an actor." I've never understood that phrase. It must be uncomfortable for the character. It is he who needs to be thrown into difficult circumstances where there are conflicts and obstacles. The hero manifests himself by overcoming difficulties, and that's what's interesting to watch.
— You presented "Jive" at the Pilot festival together with Okko and Wednesday. How did this project become a part of your filmography?
— I am a theater director, I have more than 30 performances. I've only been in the cinema for five years, and all my work was shot with producer Ivan Samokhvalov. Every time he offered me another project, it seemed to me that this was not my material. And when he sent me a story about ballroom dancing, I also said, "Vanya, where are the ballroom dances and where am I?"
But then I read the script and realized that this is a story about me in some ways. It's about people and creativity. We often run away from reality. The heroes of "Jive" — into the world of shine, self-tanning, eternal summer. This is their Narnia. And we ask the question "Where is the boundary between creativity and real life?" One character even says, paraphrasing Vasily Utkin: "Do you think we're dancing here? We live our lives here."
By the way, when I told my mom that I was filming a series about ballroom dancing, she reminded me that I used to do it myself when I was a kid. I replied, "Me?!" She threw off the baby photos. I don't remember that! Apparently, memory erases the traumatic experience (laughs).
— We know foreign examples of films about dancing, for example, the Step Forward franchise. There are few films like this in Russia. Having experience working with such material, do you understand why?
— Ballroom dancing has a very expressive language — without words, only with the help of movements, you can tell about tenderness, passion, jealousy. But it's very difficult. I dreamed that at the casting I would find artists who act equally well and dance equally well, but in the end my plan failed.
The actors learned to dance, and they learned well. But in order to perform complex choreographic elements at a professional level, it takes years of training. Dancers have a body that works all the way down to the little finger, which is something that has been developed over the years. Therefore, in the end, some of us play, while others perform the most complex technical elements.
The irony is that I don't dance at all! Neither at discos, nor at corporate parties — I have a huge problem with coordination. I can fool around with my daughter at most. And when it was necessary to show the actors some kind of movement on the set, it always caused laughter (laughs).
— If you can make a movie of both a dancer and a blogger, as is often the case now, is acting education necessary at all?
— I don't see a trend in this. A layman can work well in the frame if he plays himself. Bloggers often have just such roles — they are in the corridor of their capabilities. If we talk about more, I'm in favor of education.
There is a famous phrase by Al Pacino: "I'm not from Hollywood, I'm from Stanislavsky." Why is this system known all over the world? Because it works. Those who own it have a certain technique and the ability not to wait for inspiration, but to evoke it.
"I don't want to shoot in silence"
— Igor Zolotovitsky played the Gypsy baron Chervonya in your "Shakespeare Street". Recently, his work was awarded by TEFI in the "Best Actor in a TV Series" category. Prior to that, the project was in the top 100 of the Russian rating of the series "Medialogy" for 2025. Do you follow such things?
— Actually, yes. It is important to me that the project reaches the audience and provokes a reaction. I don't want to shoot in silence. We're showing "Jive" on the Pilot, and I'm interested in reading what they'll say about it. The premiere is an exciting moment, and feedback is important.
— Does it happen that criticism hurts?
— Yes, it happens. I don't like harsh boorish criticism — I don't consider it healing. I am in favor of one in which there is complicity and inclusion in the material. A bitter truth has a right to exist if it contains love and respect for the authors whose work is in question. In this sense, I like the phrase: "The cruel truth without love is a lie." In the case of the play, I've been fighting with verbs, commas, meanings for three months, I come out all broken, and they tell me: "You didn't fight there at all, and everything you do is for nothing."
Now my work is becoming more visible, including for haters who shoot at the sound. I have a somewhat philosophical attitude towards this, with irony, although I may worry at first. At the same time, intellectual criticism is more pleasant to me than silly praise. I'm grateful for this one — it helps me understand and grow.
I also have a rule: after the premiere, it doesn't matter if it's successful or not, you need to clean the floors at home. This is my life hack, and it works.
— Is this some kind of meditation?
— Yes, and it refreshes my head. When you are severely scolded, it helps to relax, and when you are praised, do not get arrogant and do not stop. It's scary to tell yourself: "I've achieved everything."
"Theaters are full of young people"
— You are currently doing well with "Karenina", a modern reading. Why did you focus all the action on the train?
— What I noticed is that we are used to perceiving Anna Karenina as an adult woman, but in fact she is a young girl who decides to commit suicide. It would seem a sin to complain — she has everything: a famous husband, wealth, a wonderful child. But there's an emptiness inside. Why is it that if "the house is standing, the light is on", the person ceases to see the meaning? I think Anna's problem is the lack of a future. Her life is planned for years. Therefore, the play is not called "Anna Karenina", but "Karenina": others see her only as Karenin's wife, and she tries to defend her subjectivity — to be just Anna.
I was inspired by the Joji Run clip, the idea of an endless enclosed space. The hero wakes up in the back seat of a limo and makes his way forward for a long time, trying to find a way out. We have a train. He rushes forward, but you stay in place inside the closed system. This is a kind of labyrinth, a limbo in which Karenina is located. It was as if she had lost her nature. What's the point of this train? Where is he going?
Besides, I saw parallels. When playing Tolstoy, it is important to study his biography. His life also ended at the Astapovo railway station, and we're playing it up.
— The play features a vibrant ensemble cast — Anastasia Ukolova and Angelina Strechina, Anton Filipenko and Dmitry Chebotarev, Polina Denisova and Polina Gukhman. Is this a way to attract a young audience who believes that theater is entertainment for adults?
— There is a troupe in state theaters, and it often happens that you choose the performers of the main roles, and the rest is a system of compromises when someone needs to be involved because he has not had a job for a long time. The agency I work with and the Theater of Nations don't have this. I can use all the actors I know.
It pains me that theater is perceived as "the art of parents," but that's changing now. I know that videos of "Karenina" are spreading on social media and attracting new viewers. It's a great pride for me. I'm not just talking about my performances, this is a trend: theaters are crowded with young audiences.
— It was the first time I saw excerpts from this performance on social networks, but when I came, they forbade filming.
— Probably, the producers have their own concerns about spoilers. But I would actually bring it up. I don't see a problem with someone posting a short video on their page. Moreover, I know that many people want to do this (laughs). Did you want to too?
— Yes, but I didn't break the rules. And what other ways do you see to attract young people to the theater?
— It all depends on the material. For example, in "Karenina" I like to use modern tracks. It is no coincidence that Nirvana, TRAUMA, sounds in the play. I see this as a combination of incongruities. Shakespeare has a sonnet like this: "Should I look for other paths, new techniques, and strange combinations?" This creates energy and volume.
It would seem, how does this story relate to me, to today? It's about events that happened many years ago, about people who are no longer there and who speak a different language. But when a modern track is turned on, coupling occurs. Music has an emotional effect on a person, and not on the mind, but immediately gets into the heart. This builds a bridge between the characters and the audience.
But this is not a universal technique. I don't have that in the play "Last Summer." And in "The Pier", according to the script by Gennady Shpalikov, Tariverdiev sounds, because he was supposed to write music for this screenplay. For Shakespeare, death is not an event, but for Shpalikov, a raindrop is an event. And the musical accompaniment depends very much on this.
That's why it's a classic, because every time you find new meanings in it. That's why we come to the theater. We already know the plot — the cherry orchard will be sold, the inspector will arrive, Romeo and Juliet will not be saved. But we are interested in how this particular artist will play it, how this particular director will direct it. And we're surprised at how new it can sound.
"You need to get up from the pipe and go towards your dream, not for a beer"
— One way or another, the image of the house appears in your works. In Karenina, it's a prison for Anna, from which she tries to escape. "Jive" begins with the hero's escape from the countryside by train. In Shakespeare Street and The District Center, the characters return home, where they need to deal with the problems of the past. How personal is that?
"I wonder if I've ever dug that deep."… I've been digging, though. I'm from a suburb of Tyumen, I grew up in a criminal area. I've always had a desire to leave there. But this is my home, and I live with this paradox.
There is a line like this: "It's a sad country, and your window is in it." There were no beautiful landscapes from my window. But when I come back now, I look into it, I realize that it's mine, I've never had anything else, and that's what makes me me. In the movie "Magnolia" there is a phrase: "You can end the past, but the past has not ended you." It's catching up because that's what you're made of. And in "Shakespeare Street" this idea is especially clearly manifested.
— Is it true that you had a nickname?
— They called me Lip in the yard because of my big lips. And there's Marilyn in town. I once made a funny parody of Marilyn Monroe, and the nickname stuck.
— Did the craving for creativity appear back then?
— There is a heating pipe near my house. There were always guys there, drinking beer, and I was among them. I came to Tyumen a year ago. The thing is, these guys are still sitting there, as if they never left. Someone did time off. They went some way and returned to this pipe. They asked me again a question I'd heard before: "Can't you get some beer?"
At some point, you need to get up from the pipe and go towards your dream, not for a beer. The past won't disappear, but you can work with it. In my case, through creativity.
Recently, I was sent a photo from a conference where they presented a new slogan: "Tyumen is the city where the path begins." There were two photos on the slide — Sobyanin and me (laughs). For me, there is truth in this. This is the land that gives a start.
— You've made Moscow look prettier, too — cultured. How has your attitude towards your hometown changed?
— When I first arrived in the capital, I was a little embarrassed to say that I was from Tyumen. It's like a drinking dad — you don't seem to have another one, he gave you life, but it's kind of uncomfortable in front of the boys. But now I always say that I'm from Tyumen. I have something to be proud of.
Переведено сервисом «Яндекс Переводчик»