A summary of "Filming a Movie" by Edward Radzinsky

This book is a piercing portrait of the underbelly of Soviet cinema, written in 1964. The plot reveals with exquisite precision the mechanics of creative compromise. The characters experience a painful conflict between state censorship and the personal weaknesses of the intelligentsia. The director methodically betrays his own ideals for the sake of maintaining his everyday comforts.

Bustle on the set

Director Fyodor Nechayev is filming a lyrical film. He’s about thirty years old. The soundstage is bustling with activity: lighting technicians are installing powerful arc lamps, and assistant Zina is searching in vain for the perpetually missing administrator Fekin. Extras and a jazz trio are on set. The musicians — Drummer, Guitar, and Trumpeter — are supposed to act as a classical choir. They periodically comment on the action with sighs and recitatives. During breaks, Drummer melancholically reminisces about his past work as a tiger trainer and about Akbar the tiger.

Fekin urgently searches for a young man and woman for the "front door" scene. The director envisions a kissing couple in the background. The administrator snatches random people from the crowd. They are a young woman, Anya, and a set designer, Petya, who works part-time at the studio. Nechayev torments them with takes for a long time, demanding they show the genuine passion of their first kiss. Anya gets scared and categorically refuses to continue. The director cancels further filming.

The studio routine is interrupted by a visit from Nechayev’s wife. She brings him lunch in a crockpot. A silent quarrel erupts between the spouses. She is exhausted by his constant workload, creative crises, and lack of money. She longs for ordinary feminine happiness. In a fit of anger, she announces she’s leaving for the seaside on an overnight train. Nechayev reacts with detachment. The couple have long since drifted apart, their marriage held together only by force of habit.

A chance meeting in the rain

Late at night, Fyodor leaves the film studio. Anya sits on the steps in the rain. She confesses: she ran away from home because of a ridiculous tantrum in a hat store. She longed for something unusual, so she agreed to act as an extra. Nechayev tells her his story. The morning spring sun gave him joy and strength, but the studio bustle and senseless conflicts destroyed this feeling. The mature director confesses to his fatigue and loneliness.

Anya persuades Fyodor to go to Petya’s studio. She’s afraid to go there alone, but she’s eager to continue the evening. In the studio, Nechayev encounters a bohemian life. Petya and his friend Yurochka are sculpting stylized amphoras and exchanging mocking remarks. Petya advises Fyodor to suppress his inner artist and become an "engineer," constructing films solely for the sake of success. Nechayev feels like an outsider among these people. Soon, Fyodor and Anya leave.

Saying goodbye on the street, the girl tells a halting story about her fictitious love for a test pilot. She tries to appear experienced. Fyodor sees her vulnerability. He tenderly kisses Anya. The girl is frightened by the overwhelming emotion and quickly runs into the darkness.

Storm clouds over the film

The next day, the film’s editor, Kirill Vladimirovich, brings disturbing news. The Ministry of Culture is dissatisfied with the footage. Management demands to see the films. Influential critic Irina Kiryanova, official Trofimov, and other members of the artistic council gather in the screening room. Irina lives with her aunt, Nadezhda Leonidovna. The veteran actress refuses to wear glasses, wears high heels, and desperately dreams of landing a new role in the theater.

After the screening, Kiryanova behaves with extreme caution. She praises Nechayev’s film to his face, using the vague adjective, "There’s something Lermontov-esque about it." Later, at home, Irina constantly calls the right people. The critic skillfully maneuvers, trying to convince her interlocutors that her support for the film was illusory. She emphasizes how coldly she greeted Trofimov, demonstrating her loyalty to the official line.

Kirill Vladimirovich cynically analyzes Irina’s behavior. He’s long been in love with her, but now he sees her true colors. The editor understands: the critic is simply afraid for her career. He advises Nechayev to prepare for a tough battle with censorship. Another scandal awaits Fyodor at home. His wife hasn’t left. She waited for her husband half the night to stage a jealous scene. Fyodor listens silently to the reproaches.

A short escape to the sea

Nechayev gets three days off. Anya calls him from a payphone. They spontaneously decide to fly to Sukhumi. In the south, they rent a tiny room from a tired agent. The lights of a steamship flicker outside the window, and music drifts from a riverside restaurant. In this cramped space, the director opens up for the first time.

Fyodor confesses to Anya his creative impotence. In his youth, he dreamed of high art, willing to endure poverty for the sake of great ideas. Over time, he became accustomed to making concessions. The director learned to create convenient, generic films. Success came, but it killed the artist within him. Now he wants to make an honest film about love, but fears he’s lost his talent. Anya fervently supports Fyodor, promising he will overcome all difficulties. She swears her allegiance to him, calling herself his slave. They spend a happy night together.

Capitulation to censorship

Upon returning to Moscow, the illusions are shattered. The artistic council slams the film. Trofimov, the bureaucrat, comes to Nechayev’s home. They’ve known each other for years. Trofimov drinks cognac and frankly lays out the management’s demands. Personal issues are irrelevant now. The country is building power plants, and the director is focusing on the intimate experiences of love. Trofimov dictates the terms: the jazz choir and the most powerful scene of the characters’ nighttime encounter must be completely cut.

The official asks Nechayev to write a formal request to suspend work on the film. The official reason is the actress’s illness and the need to revise the script. In reality, this amounts to complete capitulation. Fyodor delivers a furious speech. He refuses to mutilate the film and promises to fight to the end.

At that moment, Nechayev’s wife enters the room. She had been living with her parents but returned to maintain her status as a married woman. She begs her husband to reconcile himself. She asks Fyodor to consider her frayed nerves and their comfortable life. She is willing to endure any humiliation, just to avoid change. Trofimov’s pressure and his wife’s hysteria break Nechayev. He agrees to remake the picture.

A justifiable retribution

Panic reigns at the film studio. Administrator Fekin hastily pays the extras, confident the film will be cancelled. He’s already looking for work on another project. Nechayev assembles the crew. He orders the soundstage ready for work. Meeting Kirill Vladimirovich, the director announces his decision in a dry tone. He’s sacrificed the jazz and night scenes. The editor ironically praises him for his "courage," knowing the film is dead.

Fyodor goes to the artists’ studio. Anya already knows about his return to his wife. She is unnaturally cheerful. She forbids Nechayev to make excuses and leaves forever, promising to pray for him occasionally. The artist Petya seizes the opportunity to finish off the director.

Petya delivers a brutal monologue. He mocks Nechayev’s pretentious humanity. The director sacrificed love and art to maintain a comfortable life in an apartment with a ceiling over five meters high. Petya calls Fyodor a "champion of suffering," who ruins the lives of others while remaining in absolute comfort. The artist refuses to drink to Nechayev’s health, wishing him a swift death. The director agrees with every word and silently drains his glass.

Late at night, Fyodor sits on the steps of the film studio. Next to him are the old guitarist Zhgundi and Kirill Vladimirovich. Having lost love, creative freedom, and self-respect, Nechayev asks for a guitar. He utters the words: “Life isn’t always a path up a mountain. More often, it’s a chain of mountains. We climb, and then we descend again, only to try to climb back up again.” The director tries to convince himself that it’s crucial to recognize the moment of descent and not perish from despair on the way down. The play ends with the soft ringing of guitar strings in the darkness of the night.