On August 20, 1987, actor Andrei Mironov died of a cerebral hemorrhage. He became ill on stage while performing the role of Figaro at the Riga Theater. Two days later, despite the efforts of doctors, the actor died. The body was transported to Moscow, and thousands of people came to bid farewell to Mironov.
More than 30 years have passed since the death of Andrei Mironov, but even today, perhaps, there is no person who is not familiar with his work. His roles are a symbol of that era - bright, charismatic, incredibly attractive and memorable. With his death, the world of actors and cinema lost not only a person with a professional personality, but also a person capable of working hard in his favorite field. The cause of the actor's death was a cerebral hemorrhage. The funeral of Andrei Mironov took place at the Moscow Vagankovskoye cemetery.
Date and cause of death
Andrei Mironov is a man whom people’s rumors “connected with death” in absentia, a year before his actual death. This happened in the summer of 1986 due to the deterioration of his appearance and the feeling among the audience that the artist was very tired. But then the time to die had not yet come. Gorin reassured fans of his colleague’s talent through a note in the Soviet Screen magazine.
However, exactly a year later, on August 20, 1987, Andrei Alexandrovich’s life was cut short. Death came finally and irrevocably, finding him at his favorite workplace, in one of the bright theatrical roles - Figaro in the play “Crazy Day or the Marriage of Figaro”, during the tour of the Moscow Theater of Satire in Latvia.
A similar medical report on the cause of death, unfortunately, is not uncommon today. Bleeding in the brain. This is a diagnosis caused by the inability of the blood vessels in the head to withstand blood pressure, regardless of age.
The workload in Mironov’s life was commonplace. He worked, not paying attention to his health, almost his entire short life. He devoted himself completely to the world of theater and cinema, soul and body. But fate allowed him only 46 years of such a life.
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Of course, Andrei Mironov was never a pure comedian and did not consider himself one. The role of Prisypkin in “The Bedbug” (the first of the major roles) went to him, as they say, due to sad circumstances. (...) Mironov was 23rd in 1963, he came up with a design that was much sharper and livelier than Lepko’s, but apparently did not play it very well. (...) He himself, it seems, did not value her very much, he wanted something more, “serious”.
Serious roles, however, were not very good for the young Mironov. In 1965, he received one that was hard to dream of: Holden Caulfield. A restless and vulnerable teenage sociopath, in the future an indispensable beatnik, written by J.D. Salinger, won the hearts of Soviet youth. (...) The timid direction of Alexander Shatrin greatly softened the story, (...) Holden was cut according to the patterns of the Rozov boys: this came not only from the director’s instructions, but also from the actor himself, from his indomitable and beautiful charmer nature. Being, as they say, a lawyer for his characters was not enough for Mironov: he wanted people to like his characters, and the more, the better.
He himself also loved to be liked and considered this his dignity. He repeated the phrase of Mikhail Chekhov: “...The public always, consciously or unconsciously, behind the image created by the actor, sees the person who creates this image, evaluates it,” and Andrei Mironov recognized only the highest assessments. This is not ambition, but a deeper desire: to conquer with oneself. (...) And he knew how to be loved - better than anyone in the world.
Not at all handsome, his face is pleasant, but simple and pockmarked, the make-up artists had a hard time with it. At the age of 19 or 20, he went swimming in the cold Pärnu Bay and fell ill with furunculosis: his metabolism was forever disrupted, and the best doctors could not help Mironov. It’s not hard to imagine how tormented the young actor was. It is much more difficult to understand how Mironov managed to train himself - what kind of will and what kind of self-confidence he needed to have in order to develop that wonderful charm - no, let’s say better: that charm that Mironov endowed with his characters, but to him, it might have seemed like nothing wasn't worth it. Valentin Pluchek nicknamed him “our sunshine”: this took root at the Satire Theater, and to the point.
Last performance
The first symptoms of deteriorating health appeared in Mironov shortly before the last appearance on stage in his life. It was a solo concert, after which his headaches intensified, which the artist could no longer ignore. However, there was no time for rest. The play “Crazy Day or the Marriage of Figaro” was coming up, which the residents of Latvia were looking forward to with particular impatience.
During the production the hall was packed. The summer evening brought in stuffy hot air through the open doors. The artists played impeccably, and for especially sophisticated spectators there were even noticeable places of talented improvisation.
At the third minute of Figaro’s monologue, Mironov stopped and began to dab the sweat on his forehead. It was clear: the artist was not feeling well. The audience began to feel alarmed, but no one knew then that they were seeing the beloved Mironov on stage for the last time.
A few minutes later it was announced to the audience that the actor would not be able to continue the game. And when the ambulance sirens sounded, the silence in the hall took on a doomed character. Someone else remained sitting in their seats, not believing what had happened. And someone sadly left the auditorium.
Having gone backstage, Andrei Alexandrovich did not come to his senses. An ambulance was called and took him to the hospital. The fight for his life was waged by famous neurosurgeons who were in Riga at a professional symposium. But their knowledge and skills were not enough to bring him back to life. Two days later the heart stopped beating.
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The Lord (they lie in vain that He does not like actors) gave Mironov the bright and warming gift of heartfelt acting. The actor's internal technique was not very simple. Of course, he did not so much live from the inside the fate of his characters as show their properties. This can be felt even in the most dramatic and profound roles: let us remember, for example, how Mironov played Lopakhin (...) It is important that Mironov “showed” his characters with love. At worst, understanding and sympathizing.
(...) He, extremely amorous, sympathized with the indifferent Don Juan to women, who was invented by the sad Swiss intellectual Max Frisch (“Don Juan, or the Love of Geometry”, 1968) - and also with Prisypkin, who so impudently and naively climbs into the “fine life” , perhaps, too. Of course, the beauties of family prosperity that this blockhead imagined for himself may make you sick, but the blockhead is learning to dance so hard, so happy about his new name - “Pierre Skripkin”... How not to sympathize. Moreover, Mironov himself was distinguished by his craving for beautiful things, which is not at all shameful: this only added to his charm.
Farewell to Andrei Mironov
As fate would have it, Andrei Alexandrovich’s last performance was attended by his close relatives, those for whom he was love and support until his last days. These are both wives, a mother and two daughters. Therefore, farewell to the artist began before transporting him to his final resting place.
At the funeral in Moscow, many people gathered who wanted to pay tribute to the sparkling talent and public favorite. It’s a pity, but the theater’s chief director V. Pluchek, for some unknown reason, decided not to interrupt the tour of the corpses in Riga. Therefore, his immediate colleagues could not arrive in full force to bury their comrade. Only four - Shirvindt, Egorova, Vasilyeva and Derzhavin - were present at the general farewell on the stage of the Satire Theater.
Their words sounded sorrow and regret for the irretrievably lost talent, condolences to family and friends.
According to Mark Zakharov, such a tragic death made him re-evaluate the entire creative path of the actor, raising him to a level that is worthy of the highest theatrical ratings. However, he got it at a high price - his whole life.
Courageous man
It is noteworthy that Mikhail Derzhavin in his memoirs “I'm Lucky” wrote that he and Alexander Shirvindt many times persuaded Andrei Mironov to abandon the mise-en-scène with the fall. But he replied that “it’s very impressive,” and nothing needs to be changed. Mironov in general, according to the memoirs of his contemporaries, was a courageous man and never complained about anything.
The artists who had the opportunity to work with Andrei Alexandrovich said that during performances he changed his shirts several times, which were literally soaked in blood. The words of Mironov’s friends are cited in his book “Andrei Mironov,” and Andrei Shlyakhov. Kirill Lascari also told reporters that Mironov was “tired of changing shirts.”
Nevertheless, Andrei Mironov did not want the audience to know about his suffering. He tried with all his might and means to hide his illness from his fans. That is why Mironov often appeared on stage in turtlenecks with high collars or other clothing, thanks to which it was possible to hide boils from prying eyes.
The actor, of course, tried to undergo treatment. He reduced the unpleasant smell of various ointments that Mironov used with the help of expensive perfume. But these ointments did not help, as did the blood transfusions that Andrei Mironov did more than once.
Close people of Andrei Mironov
March 7, 1941 in the Moscow maternity hospital named after. Grauerman, famous personalities Alexander Menaker and Maria Mironova gave birth to a child. They called him Andrey and jokingly regarded him as a “gift for March 8th.” According to his mother, he grew up as an ordinary child and in 1948 he went to Moscow boys' school No. 170 under his father's name.
Taking into account the post-war anti-Semitic attitude, after 2 years it was decided to change the surname to his mother’s, which was assigned to Andrei in the future.
The child of an acting family spent every summer vacationing in Pestov, the Art Theatre’s holiday home.
Among his hobbies, relatives note inspired images of a jazz group with his blood (paternal) brother Kirill Laskari (born in 1936). At the same time, Kirill was playing the piano, Andrey was making sounds from kitchen utensils.
Mironov maintained good family relations with his brother throughout his life.
Andrei's brother, Kirill, was educated at the Leningrad Choreographic School. A. Ya. Vaganova in 1957, was a soloist of the Maly Opera and Ballet Theater and staged performances at the Arkady Raikin Theater of Miniatures. He devoted a lot of time and effort to creating the Leningrad Ice Ballet. Kirill died in 2009.
As a cheerful and cheerful person, Andrei Mironov was constantly surrounded by his loved ones. This is mother - Maria Mironova, for whom her son was the meaning of life, two wives (Ekaterina Gradova and Maria Golubkina) and two daughters of the artist (both Maria).
In the last years of his life, the love of the “person of the stage” was the aspiring artist Alena Yakovleva.
The actor’s personal life was rich. Romantic relationship with Tatyana Egorova, as a result of which an application was submitted to the registry office (10/24/1968). The wedding was canceled due to his father's heart attack.
Since 1971, creative activity has been supported by family ties of the Mironov-Gradov tendem.
The result of their love was Masha, the artist’s only blood daughter. The marriage did not last long - only three years, but they were able to maintain a warm relationship.
An artist from the Soviet Army Theater, Larisa Golubkina, was a dream for Mironov for ten long years. Repeated marriage proposals were unsuccessful. It was only in 1976 that the cries of his heart were heard. Two destinies merged into one, and Andrei adopted Larisa’s daughter (Maria).
Mironov raised his daughters in love and tenderness, instilling the best human values. The photo shows how sincerely he treated his beloved women. He also passed on his love for the theater to them - both girls followed exactly the path of their father, becoming actresses.
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Khlestakov's first appearance was openly buffoonish. His green tailcoat shone iridescently under the spotlights: it seemed that it was made not of fabric, but of patent leather, lizard or frog. He himself was also green, literally and figuratively. A green young man, a fool - that goes without saying, but his face also seemed greenish: lack of food had already led to stomach cramps. He suffered unbearably: he really wanted to eat. Toiling, he sat down by the stairs and tried to gnaw on the railing post: well, it looked like a goat, or rather a bunny. No, it’s not tasty: he was ready to whine, but now he indulged in gastronomic dreams: “I wish I could send it to the market, buy at least... / with my arms wide open / SAIKA!” This cod with three girths looked no worse than the famous cubic watermelon of Mikhail Chekhov.
Mironov's hero was very childish and therefore sweet: stupid, capricious, spoiled, but still a child, naively enjoying life and just as naively taking offense at it. He admired the cigar the way children admire candy, and he lied the way children lie, not at all embarrassed to lie. The highest peak of childhood was Khlestakov’s wonderful misfire in the scene of lies (d. III, scene 6): “As you run up the stairs to your fourth floor, you just say to the cook: “Here, Mavrushka, overcoat...”.” Andrei Mironov, it seems, for the first time, shifted the emphasis in the name to the first syllable: the dismissive diminutive suddenly became affectionate: Mavrushka... And he sounded so pitiful that behind him one could see “mother” - the same one whom the tortured Poprishchin called for help.
How this Khlestakov did not want to leave, how he understood that the holiday was over forever! “I have never had such a good reception anywhere...” He left with his shoulders hanging low and almost staggering, struck by the terrible knowledge: there was and never will be anything good again. Let us express what the critics of the 70s did not write about: the role of Khlestakov became Mironov’s farewell to his youth - both to his personal, and to the youth of the time, which before our eyes withered and flabby. This gave the performance unexpected depth.
What became an epiphany for Khlestakov-Mironov, Mironov-Chatsky knew in advance. The second half of the 70s, the “heyday of stagnation,” the time of internal emigrants, that is, people who chose the path of passive disloyalty, not daring to do more. In addition to internal emigration, let us also remember the real one: the number of people leaving the USSR forever increased sharply again. In the first half of the 70s there were 66 thousand, in the 2nd - 147 thousand. Chatsky’s last remark could, if desired, be considered purely topical.
