What issues does director Dmitry Svetozarov raise in the film?
In general terms, the discussion centers on human relationships, deception, and love, though the filmmaker treats these themes with a practical honesty. The characters, portrayed by Svetozarov and Yura Stoyanov, move through life without chasing grand rewards yet remain content and humane. A subtler thread emerges for the attentive viewer: a belief in pursuing movement, exploration, and fantasy at any age. The idea echoes a Japanese maxim about extending life by planning boldly, a notion the speaker embraces even as age advances. The dream persists, and the journey itself becomes the measure of life, not its destination.
This is the film’s core subject. Two people who labor, please others, and constantly mold themselves to fit expectations. They practice cunning and compliance, only to find themselves paused at a bus stop where there is no bench, no bus, and no clear route forward. They gaze into a foggy horizon, waiting for a ride that may never arrive. The metaphor is explicit enough to carry the narrative, even as the imagery remains deliberately unclear about where the road goes.
How would one categorize the “Five Percent” genre? Is it a comedy?
The filmmaker and actor discussed it as a tragic comedy, yet the grasp of the film goes beyond any single label. It blends elements of a detective tale, hints of Hitchcockian suspense, and humorous sketches of con men, weaving multiple tonal threads into a broader, richer fabric than a single genre would allow.
Tell us about the character you portray.
The performer assumes the role of Nakhimson, a fake Jew who hides behind a borrowed name and false papers to reach Israel. He is a Russian exile who fled the consequences of his own choices in his homeland, an unsuccessful artist trying to find happiness by venturing into someone else’s space. The arc suggests that if success stays out of reach at home, it may not materialize abroad either. Realizing this, Nakhimson contemplates starting anew, though the odds of a fresh start remain uncertain.
The role is lively, upbeat, funny, and meaningful, a departure from parts the actor has played for some time. Nakhimson is essential to the arc of the principal character, Ferapontov, played by Stoyanov, who cannot do without his quirky ally. The two are long-time friends and colleagues, and a situation arises that will reveal their shared understanding in a moment of truth.
How is the atmosphere on set?
The shooting process is conducted with professional rigor and tradition, evoking the sense of a renowned studio known around the world. The collaboration with Svetozarov is marked by mutual trust, clarity of direction, and creative freedom. The performers speak highly of the environment, noting that the director allows space for exploration while everyone remains committed to delivering the project as envisioned.
What is Yuri Stoyanov like as a friend and partner?
Both actors share a long history and a shared path through the industry, with a bond forged by early opportunities and a long, intertwined career. The colleague is described as incredibly talented, bringing warmth and vitality to every situation. Off camera, their camaraderie shines through in small rituals and moments of gratitude, even when they joke about the occasional payroll or schedule stress. The friendship feels like a constant, a steady warmth during intense filming days.
Have there been previous collaborations with Dmitry Svetozarov?
In the late eighties, the speaker auditioned for a lead role in a Svetozarov project, but was not cast. The director had his reasons, preferring other performers who could shape the character differently. Years later, Svetozarov acknowledged the decision, revealing that the earlier choice would have altered the audience’s perception of the antagonist in that story. The anecdote underscores the hard choices that shape a director’s filmography and the actor’s understanding of casting dynamics.
Why did the film take years to reach production?
Disagreements and creative tensions surrounded the project from the outset. The word puppy was used in the conversation as a shorthand for competition, often masking deeper reservations about funding and the viability of the script. The process exposed frictions over supporting a director with a distinctive voice and a shared vision. Yet the core of the matter remained: the project deserved backing, and the delays reflected the logistical and financial challenges of independent cinema.
How did the team eventually secure financing?
A few years back, a bundled appeal failed to move the decision-makers. Later, Svetozarov made another pitch and urged the team to participate, prompting one of the performers to record a direct video message advocating for the project. The message emphasized the long-standing friendship and shared history between the actors, and it framed the collaboration as a rare creative alignment that deserved support. The message resonated, and the project finally gained momentum, bringing together the director, the lead actor, and a skilled crew to realize the vision.
What does it mean by winning in this context?
The aspiration is not vanity but the belief that history will acknowledge the effort. The atmosphere on set is decorated with kindness and mutual understanding, a dynamic that makes the pursuit feel legitimate. The speaker chuckles at the notion of self-promotion while acknowledging that if a major market were to celebrate the work, it would be satisfying to see audiences respond with applause and attendance. The aim is to create something that endures, not just a momentary success.
Was pitching the film a first for you?
Not at all. The actor has joined such pitches multiple times, with mixed results. Early attempts drew smaller crowds, with only a few directors and producers in attendance. The actor was among the first to attend with a group from the Ministry of Culture to defend the script, and the experience varied. Some sessions yielded opportunities, others did not. The key takeaway remains that building a project requires persistence, preparation, and a bit of improvisation in front of the right audience.
How do you judge the work of operators and cinematographers?
There is a venerable camera school behind them, a tradition of collaboration that values the craft as a joint venture with the director. Some crews emphasize lighting, speed, and visual effect, while others contribute profoundly to the storytelling through coordinated movement and framing. The speaker notes that cinema is a team effort whose outcomes demand both craft and vision. He reflects on a recent high-profile project whose style leaned on display rather than narrative restraint, and he contrasts it with his own past experiences of cinema that felt more intimate and intentional.
Your body of work includes many landmark films shot in St. Petersburg. What does the city mean to you?
St. Petersburg is a place of professional origin. It represents a starting point in a long career, and it continues to influence the tone and texture of the filmmaker’s projects. The city embodies gratitude, responsibility, and a sense of belonging that persists across generations. It is not merely a backdrop but a living part of the artist’s identity, a place of memory and inspiration that remains inseparable from the artist’s sense of home.
What impression does the production design leave, especially in the depiction of Ferapontov’s studio?
Elena Zhukova, the production designer, creates a studio space that feels both authentic and animated by history. The compact room is filled with character, including a display of Lenin busts that evokes a particular era and mood. The collaboration with such seasoned masters sparks vivid recollections of past projects and the feeling of being among the era’s great craftspeople. The result is a setting that breathes with memory, even as it serves the present narrative.
Is there a personal touch in the film toward the sports world, such as a connection to Zenit?
There is a light question about affiliation with a local football club. The actor declines any allegiance to a single team, choosing to keep that part of life private. The emphasis remains on the craft, the character, and the story being told rather than on sports allegiance.