During a recent interview, the actor explained that the second season of Holidays would carry a deeper emotional charge without abandoning the show’s humor. He emphasized that this is a tonal and relational deepening, not a detour from the sitcom format, and he credited writers Dmitry Kovalev and Denis Shenin for shaping more substantial conflicts that pull the family story into richer, more personal terrain.
He pointed out that the season isn’t about a character simply misplacing a bottle, but about examining the Pyzhov family through higher stakes and more intimate ties. As filming progressed, it became clear that the season would feel more intense, even as the circumstances dedicated to humor grew increasingly ridiculous. The family welcomes new chapters as children enter the scene and weddings unfold, and the evolution of the Pyzhov clan feels brighter and more defined than in the first season.
The actor’s character is on the cusp of becoming a grandfather. He isn’t one yet and is still adjusting to the prospect, even as he nears sixty. He finds the role of grandfather potentially more compelling than fatherhood, because it allows him to visit, give gifts, and then step back while the younger generation handles responsibilities. That balance, he suggests, creates a fresh source of joy and ease in the storyline.
The series’ producer, Anton Zaitsev, has described holidays as a particularly telling focal point for Russian audiences because gatherings tend to bring underlying tensions to the surface. The actor agrees that conflicts aren’t exclusive to holidays; they arise wherever people meet—at work, at parties, around a long table with relatives. When a group relaxes and things are said aloud, longstanding frictions often emerge, and alcohol can sharpen those dynamics. These undercurrents belong to most families and reveal themselves when the moment is right.
Asked whether this dynamic feels uniquely Russian or universally human, the actor shrugged off a national distinction. He believes people share similar impulses: many are open and direct when they’re among family and friends, while others remain more reserved. Cultural norms vary, but the core truth is that honesty tends to surface more when people are relaxed and a little loosened by drink.
Another quip from fans is the notion that Russians have an abundance of holidays and long weekends. The actor laughs at the idea and notes that while some cultures pause for daily siestas or extended breaks, Russia’s calendar still adds up to a substantial number of days off. He jokingly tallies about 144 professional holidays, which collectively amount to a kind of extended downtime, and he points out that such a rhythm shapes everyday life in vivid ways.
In the first season, Navy Day came up as part of the Pyzhov family’s world. The actor isn’t sure how much the writers drew from his own naval experiences, since they weren’t personally acquainted at the time. He recalls that the script presented a man who served in the navy during the USSR era, and while the connection to his real life wasn’t a deliberate influence, he doesn’t rule out the possibility that the writers might have understood elements of his background.
When discussions turn to stunts and athleticism, the actor reflects on his past as an athlete at eighteen. Though decades have passed, he stays in shape for health and feel rather than competition. He doesn’t view stunts as something he should perform personally; on set, stunt professionals are preferred to prevent injuries and keep production on track. He did try to push boundaries, but understands the prudence behind leaving high-risk moves to trained professionals, a reality that keeps projects moving safely forward.
Among the many projects in his repertoire are several inspired by Dostoyevsky. Recalling his youth, he remembers being assigned Dostoevsky in school and not connecting with it at the time. Later, as an adult and perhaps before tackling Demons, he revisited Dostoevsky and gained a new respect for his craft, even if the darker themes still don’t draw him in personally. His favorite Russian writer remains Gogol, whose style, imagination, and prophetic wit he deeply admires.
Fans also inquire about a major historical film, The Birth of an Empire, in which the actor was initially approved for the role of Caesar Romodanovsky. Just before filming began, illness forced him to withdraw from the project, though there remains a possibility of a later return or lingering association. The experience underscores how history-minded roles captivate him, even if health can alter a schedule.
Does he enjoy donning period costumes and inhabiting figures from another era? Certainly, he finds historical dramas fascinating, yet they come with hard professional challenges. His most recent foray into this genre was the project Grozny, where he portrayed a 16th-century caesar, Alexey Basmanov. The experience left a vivid memory of heavy makeup, long shooting days, and beards glued to the face. He jokes that wearing a beard for half a day can feel almost unbearable, and he appreciates the craft that makes those worlds believable even when the process is demanding. He notes that such intense makeup routines are a reminder of the artistry involved in bringing history to life on screen.
He also recalls his work on Flint, a fairy tale film, where makeup and a lighter, magical atmosphere came together smoothly. He enjoyed the experience and cherished the chance to act in a fairy tale, even if the beard he wore felt like a small, funny surprise. The production’s imaginative vibe and the camaraderie with strong partners and a capable director left him with fond memories and high hopes that audiences will respond warmly to the finished film.
So why the current boom in fairy tale productions in Russia? The actor expresses genuine surprise that this trend has taken hold now, given Russia’s rich folklore and vast potential for storytelling. He believes the country possesses a deep well of subjects for cinema and television, and that the industry is only beginning to explore it fully. Fairy tales leave an imprint on people from childhood, shaping imagination, giving hope, and offering a sense of wonder that translates well to screen adaptations for new generations. That enduring resonance is exactly why these projects feel timely and vital for Russian cinema today.