You gentlemen princesses, please be quiet! Don't call each other Derdidas! Because Derdidas is a duke, not a curse! It is interesting to see things that should have been familiar with at an earlier age, but for some reason did not work out. It is doubly interesting when a Soviet film fairy tale turns out to be such a film: it is difficult to assess what causes sincere nostalgia in other people, covering all the advantages and disadvantages of the films in question. Soviet fairy tales in the public consciousness are a kind of absolute genre to which one should strive, regardless of how well the film itself is shot. Sometimes, however, this attitude is absolutely true, but more often it rather harms the film in question, because instead of enjoying the picture you are watching, you are forced to catch yourself thinking that the film is not as good as everyone says about it, that the costumes are poor quality, the music is mediocre, and the actors, despite their play, poorly relate to their characters.
"Tsarevich Prosha", unfortunately, is one such example - while being a very cute film fairy tale.
In a certain kingdom, in a certain state, there lived a king who expelled his only (apparently) son, a light-eyed young man with the look of a premature cow. The trouble is that the tsarevich had a dream, but he refuses to talk about it - even despite the very real threats of a fool father to kick his son out of the kingdom. His father kept his promises, but he did not take into account that his enemies, namely a king from another kingdom, could find Proshka bound in the forest. How to spite, there is a beautiful daughter, over his ears fell in love with the mysterious prince, and she, in turn, is in love and at the same time very sinister spectacular mustache admirer, Duke of Derdidas.
This, as you understand, is the plot; further plot is devoted to the rescue of the princess, finding useful friends and magical artifacts, magical doubleness and other fabulous plot elements. This explains some of the plot incoherence of “Tsarevich Prosha”: folklore tales rarely differed in the sequence and integrity of events, so this is not such a big trouble. I would even say that on the plot basis, Tsarevich Prosha is one of the most fabulous Soviet films: the randomness and randomness of events occurring with the heroes do not seem unnatural, and quite fit into the general narrative tradition, when the narrator could add something from himself, compose, switch from the disasters of the princess to the sincere honesty of Proshi, and then on the adventurous adventures of the thief Lutoni ... Add to this funny and sometimes even witty dialogues (really a golden feature of domestic film fairy tales, almost unchanged) - and the action that takes place on the screen really begins to attract attention, despite some staged simplicity.
Although the production is just a little upsetting. This is due, first of all, to some discast of actors for the main roles: and if Tatiana Shestakova, despite the significant age difference with her heroine, still amazes with her charm and sincerity, then it is sometimes just painful to look at Sergei Martynov as the tsarevich. It hurts twice - when, playing the villain Derdidas, who reincarnated as the prince, his character has facial expressions on his face. Sergey Martynov is actually not the worst actor possible, plus he is an excellent voice actor, but what is it at all?
And that's despite the fact that there's no problem with the rest of the actors in the film - at least not until they start singing. It is not surprising that most of the musical numbers are reserved for the thief Lutoni performed by Zolotukhin, because somehow written weak recitative from the princess or the magic grandfather Oha ... and this despite the fact that music is usually the strongest side of Soviet fairy tales ... Of course, the music here is not as much as, for example, in “Red Riding Hood” or even “Marie the Artist”, but every time it unpleasantly strikes with its presence (unless it is performed by Zolotukhin, of course).
Disadvantages of “Tsarevich Prosha”, of course, abound (here you and the doubtfulness of special effects, and not always a successful makeup, and the almost lack of close-ups, the lack of a single stylistic solution, excessive theatricality – and I’m now not about transitional scenes in the nativity, and the categorical reluctance to use cinematic means of expression), but, paradoxically, this does not spoil the film too much. Does not make it the brightest or most significant in the genre of film fairy tales - this is yes; but at the same time "Tsarevich Prosha" turned out to be quite expressive and charming work - largely thanks to the script, excellent play of supporting actors, charming dialogues, and banal human sincerity. And she seems so desperately missing right now.
