(1918 – 1977)
Russian Soviet playwright, poet, bard.
The author of the plays Street of the Boys (1946), Taimyr Raises You (in co-authorship with K. Isaev, 1948), The Ways We Choose (1954, another title “Under the Happy Star”), March March (“For hour before dawn, 1957), “The Steamboat is called” Eaglet “(1958),” Matrosskaya Tishina “, etc.
He also wrote scripts of the films” Faithful Friends “(Together with K. Isaev, director M. Kalatozov),” On the Seven Winds ” (director C Rostotsky), “State criminal”, “Give a plaintive book,” the joint Soviet-French “Third Youth” about Marius Petipa, “Refugees of the twentieth century” (Norway), etc. Galich
“And yet I’m a poet,” – said somehow shortly before his departure, Alexander Arkadevich in a conversation with his relatives. It seemed that no one was going to argue with this, but for a long time he himself was not going to comprehend, but rather, to ascertain this fact: if in his youth, choosing between the Literary Institute (which he easily entered) and Stanislavsky’s opera-drama studio, Galich stopped at the Studio, then later returned to where he started – to poetry.
Many of Galich’s poems appeared as songs, and many songs were born from poems. Performing his songs, Galich contributed to the melody of the characteristic intonational changes. “Look, very many of these works contain an exact plot, almost in front of us short story novels, novel stories, parables and satires, and each song carries an absolutely definite character of the main character or, so to speak, the lyric hero.”
At that time such phenomenon as the author’s song was born. Okudzhava and Vizbora voices were heard along with the songs of Galich. Galich’s difference from them in “topicality, today, unadorned” (V. Ardov), in the clear political orientation of his songs. But with the end of Khrushchev’s thaw, the need has arisen
Together with Andrei Sakharov, Galich joins the Human Rights Committee. New songs in numerous tapes vary throughout the country. Due to the special popularity of the “bardic song”, they become almost more dangerous than prose Solzhenitsyn, Voinovich, Shalamov – The
pressure increased. Galich is also trying to deprive that scanty disability pension, which he was compelled to exist in those years.
On December 29, 1971, the Moscow Writers’ Organization expelled Galich from his ranks. “Among the charges brought against Galic,” Sowing “reports, was the publication of his songs abroad – cooperation in the Human Rights Committee of Academician Sakharov, the desire to widely disseminate his point of view in the Soviet Union-“
With him, already terminated agreements, with a polite refusal to return seemingly approved applications – Soon Galich ceases to be a member of the Union of Cinematographers and Litfond.
Due to the circumstances and under the pressure of “competent authorities” the poet was forced to leave his homeland forever in 1974. Now we know that he left for good, Galich himself was absolutely sure that he would return and return.
“The voluntariness of this departure, it is nominal,” these words of Galich were published on October 31, 1988 in the newspaper Pravda. – But still. This is the land on which I was born. This is the world that I love most in the world – It’s still the sky, that scrap of heaven, which is my scrap. And therefore my only dream, hope, faith, happiness, satisfaction is that I will always return to this land. And already dead, I will return to it for sure, “
The death of Galich was unexpected and ridiculous. He died on December 15, 1977 from electric shock at the moment when he connected the antenna to the stereo system he had just bought. My heart failed to bear three heart attacks by this time. The funeral took place in the Russian cemetery of Saint Genevieve de Bois near Paris (France). Near the grave of Ivan Bunin, Dmitry Merezhkovsky, Zinaida Gippius, Nadezhda Teffi – already later appeared the grave of Andrei Tarkovsky.
In 1988, on the petition of the poet’s daughter, both creative unions canceled decisions to expel AA Galich from their ranks.
“His songs were sung by the whole country, from an indifferent boy to an old drunkard-miner, from a city entrance to a prison cell… These songs were written down, copied, sang… And they sang all… And all this means many, many millions… You can call it glory, but it’s more than fame – it’s love. “