— Tell us about the heroine in the TV series “GDR.”
The heroine Svetlana stands as the wife of the series’ central figure, a devoted agent of the Soviet secret service. Beyond that, she serves as an analyst within the secret service, making her an indirect participant in the quest for the archive her husband is pursuing. Her path winds through increasingly challenging circumstances, testing her resilience and judgment at every turn.
What truly matters is Svetlana’s place as the wife of a Soviet intelligence officer. In the canon of cinema, this role carries a clear lineage. Svetlana embodies the archetypal traits expected of the hero’s partner—steadiness, loyalty, and a quiet strength that underpins the unfolding drama.
— How was it working with the leading actor Alexander Gorbatov? This isn’t the first time you’ve shared the screen with him, correct?
— Indeed, it isn’t our first collaboration. Svetlana and Gorbatov first crossed paths as students at the Shchukin Theater School, and their early feature debut came in Sergei Ursulyak’s film Quiet Don, a project connected to my father’s directorial work. Since then, they have occasionally reunited on set, and each collaboration feels like returning to something familiar and comforting.
Gorbatov brings a rare blend of passion and analytical rigor to his roles. He dives into the material with genuine commitment and chooses parts with thoughtful care. Working with him has always felt like a reliable and productive partnership, and the experience remains enriching for Svetlana’s portrayal.
— The series is set in 1989, a year you were born. How do you relate to that era?
— I’m aware that any understanding of that period depends on the information one accesses. Different sources offer different perspectives, and history often requires weighing multiple viewpoints. I’m cautious about discussions that presume a single official narrative; everyone should consider their own sources and form a view. In performance, it’s important to reflect humanity rather than ideology, and Svetlana’s character embodies that balance.
— How did you prepare for the role? Did you read historical texts about events like the fall of the Berlin Wall and the Stasi, or study intelligence services across borders?
— Preparation included consuming 1980s newsreels and television programs, along with inspiration from the era’s visual culture and media figures. I also drew from films such as The Lives of Others and Germany 83. The aim was to visually convey the mood and manners of the time: the look, the comportment, the facial expressions of a Soviet woman navigating those years. The focus was on the human texture rather than ideology alone.
— The late 1980s marked a crisis in the postwar order. Can those emotions be woven into the series’ arc?
— There’s genuine anticipation about how the project unspools. The events are significant, yet they primarily intensify the series’ dramatic backbone. Approaching the work like a genre film—an action-driven detective story—helps keep the emphasis on momentum rather than trying to surface political subtext in every scene.
— You debuted on film at eight years old in Sergei Ursulyak’s Trial for Victory Day. What are your memories of that shoot, and what was it like working with your father? How did you navigate acting as a professional later on?
— That role was brief, with a voice-over carrying through most of the film. The memories are vivid: the cold, the caravan, and sharing the space with Oleg Efremov, Vyacheslav Tikhonov, and Mikhail Ulyanov. It felt monumental to be introduced to such figures by my parents. Since then, my father has kept the same professional standard—demanding, precise, and relentlessly focused. It’s not a hug-first dynamic, but it’s honest and ultimately productive for the craft.
— Why did you study history and philology at the Russian State University for the Humanities, rather than jumping straight into theater after school? And what drew you to the Boris Shchukin Theatre Institute after graduation?
— At seventeen, curiosity pulled me toward a world of literature, languages, and ideas. History and philology seemed a natural starting point, shaping a broad cultural view. Later, I found a different home at Shchukin. I had long visited the theater school’s performances and exams, and I realized I felt at ease there. The moment I arrived, it clicked, and I stayed. There I met my artistic mentor, Vladimir Ivanov, whose listening and presence left a lasting impression. He is a superb teacher, and that encounter solidified my choice to pursue acting at a high level.
— Does formal education in theater boost acting on the stage and screen?
— Formal education isn’t a prerequisite for performance. The craft is about how you hear lines and inhabit a character. German language work for East German scenes was helped by language study, but a translator or pronunciation coach can fill gaps. The core skill remains listening, and the language study simply supports that process. Of course, I’d treasure a project that lets me translate the lessons from literature into a on-screen presence more richly.
— Your parents likely introduced you to influential films. Which films shaped your early life?
— They exposed me to the canon of Soviet cinema: Rostotsky, Ryazanov, Gaidai, Danelia, Motyl, Menshov, and later Khutsiev, Averbakh, Tarkovsky, and the works of Mikhalkov and Konchalovsky. This broad cinematic heritage informs my taste and craft. It’s a substantial cultural foundation I try to pass on to my own children, even if they have their own ways of connecting with it.
— Which of your film projects would you call your favorite so far?
— It’s hard to pick just one. The truth is that the most exciting and cherished moments feel like they’re still ahead. Perhaps what matters most is the potential of what’s next, not what’s already been done.
— Is it easy to balance shooting a series with work at the Satyricon Theatre?
— It’s doable, especially since a two-year break at the theatre has made schedules more flexible. When I did perform there, the work complemented film work rather than competing with it. The two realms fed each other, enriching both experiences.
— The line, “Your name cannot be found in gossip columns,” sounds like a deliberate choice. Do you avoid publicity on purpose?
— Public visibility isn’t something I chase. I prefer keeping a low profile, stepping into the light only when necessary, and otherwise staying in the wings. It’s a blend of temperament and choice, a preference for quiet presence over constant spotlight. I hope at some point to move beyond the habit of secrecy and to engage more openly, though for now I find value in the offstage life and the chance to observe the wider world from a distance.