Latvian actor Ivars Kalnins spoke publicly about unresolved debts tied to the Soviet era, shedding light on how long-standing financial reckonings can linger in the arts community. He recalled being told that he owed everything to the Soviet Union and the Soviet government, a claim he challenged with a blunt retort: the truth was being twisted when calculations didn’t add up. Kalnins emphasized a basic question that lingers in many post-Soviet cultural histories: who owes whom, and to what extent? He suggested that while the state kept a ledger, practical realities on the ground showed another side of the story. In his view, the entities responsible for compensating artists did not always provide fair recompense. He pointed out that Goskinо had earned substantial sums through a range of productions, yet artists felt they were not treated with the respect or remuneration they deserved. Kalnins recalled, with a touch of irony, that people in the industry often worked for free or for marginal sums simply because they believed in the creative mission and the possibility of future opportunities, a sentiment that underscored the complicated economics of Soviet-era cinema and its aftermath. He recalled a time when artistic collaboration was built on trust and networks that transcended formal pay scales, and he argued that the lingering debts were more a symbol of broken promises than a straightforward accounting issue, with repercussions that echoed through the careers of many performers who navigated that era. He insisted that the conversation about debt was also a conversation about recognition and respect for the artistry that sustained the cultural fabric of the region, especially for actors who had to balance artistic integrity with the realities of a changing political and economic landscape. Kalnins argued that the debts owed were not solely monetary; they included missed opportunities, misallocated resources, and the erosion of confidence that once connected artists with the institutions that funded and popularized their work. In recounting these memories, the actor urged a careful reexamination of how credits, compensation, and professional recognition were distributed, urging future generations to demand fair treatment without sacrificing artistic collaboration or the communal spirit that often brought people together in studios, theatres, and festival venues across the former Soviet sphere. He also highlighted self-reflection within the industry, acknowledging that creative communities need honest discussions about compensation, fairness, and the legacy left for a new wave of artists who now navigate a more complex economic landscape. Kalnins framed these discussions as essential to safeguarding the integrity of cultural work and ensuring that the sacrifices and contributions of performers are acknowledged in a way that aligns with contemporary standards of fairness and transparency. He emphasized that the debate over debt is ultimately a debate about accountability, the value of artistic labor, and the responsibility of institutions to honor the talents that helped shape a shared cultural heritage. The conversation, he noted, is not simply about the past but also about shaping a more equitable future for performers who continue to enrich cinema and theatre with their craft, even as the financial and political terrain around them continues to evolve.
