Gelovani, Mikheil

b. 6 January 1893, Lechkhumi, Kutais Governorate, Russian Empire
d. 21 December 1956, Moscow, Russian SFSR, Soviet Union

“In the same vein, let us take, for instance, our historical and military films and some literary creations; they make us feel sick. Their true objective is the propagation of the theme of praising Stalin as a military genius. Let us recall the film, The Fall of Berlin. Here only Stalin acts; he issues orders in the hall in which there are many empty chairs and only one man approaches him and reports something to him – that is Poskrebsyshev, his loyal shield-bearer… Stalin loved to see the film The Unforgettable Year of 1919, in which he was shown on the steps of an armored train and where he was practically vanquishing the foe with his own saber.”¹

– Nikita Khruschev, “Secret Speech” to the Twentieth Party Congress in 1956 

Elsewhere, in his autobiography, Nikita Khruschev describes the director Mikheil Chiaureli (1894-1974) as someone “totally dependent on Stalin’s patronage” and “a wretched little toady” whom he exiled to the Urals.² He never mentions fellow Georgian Mikheil Gelovani who died in the same year as the “secret speech”, unlike his fellow countryman Chiaureli who managed to resume his career three years later and continued directing up to his death. Whether The Great Leader’s successor would have also described Gelovani as a “wretched little toady” is unknown, but the same criticism applies to Khrushchev during Stalin’s Reign of Terror. In Gelovani’s case, his survival is significant. Identified with portraying Stalin for most of his career, it is easy to dismiss him from the one-dimensional portrayals seen in extracts from Dušan Makavejev’s W.R.: Mysteries of the Organism (W.R. – Misterije organizma, 1971) where the Serbian director uses clips from Chiaureli’s The Vow (Klyatva, 1946) as a symbol of sexual repression. At the time, the film represented the only access Western viewers had to the cult of Stalin, and to Gelovani himself – since most of his films were banned or edited in the Soviet Union to remove all traces of his presence, in the same way that Trotsky was officially erased from Soviet consciousness. 

Rather than regarding the actor as a “wretched little toady”, other perspectives are possible. Was not a once-versatile actor and director forced to play a role under the Stalinist equivalent of a Royal Command Performance? Had he refused, would he have lived long? Furthermore, did he attempt variations of those roles, ones that would not attract the unwelcome attention of the original model known to look at the rushes and demand changes to films that angered him? If we bring these factors into consideration, then Gelovani may belong to a different version of a Great actor, namely “An Actor Under Threat”, facing not first night nerves but a potential deadly response that would remove him from the screen forever should he displease Stalin. Thus, the actor faces a dilemma in either providing the same performance or inflecting it with stylistic variations that would allow him to survive in a dangerous spotlight in a death-ridden era. Examining Gelovani’s work with access to films now available from the archives may provide some answers to an important enigma, rather than arbitrarily dismissing both actor and films from our much safer perspective in a very different historical era.

The Pre-Stalin Years

Gelovani, Chiaureli, and his future model were all Georgia-born. Like Lyubov Orlova, who was related to Leo Tolstoy, Gelovani had non-proletarian roots. His parents owned a small estate and engaged in farming. One of his close relatives was Prince Gelovani, Deputy of the Fourth State Duma. His wealthier relatives paid for his education, and he appeared in amateur theatricals with his mother, even singing in the church choir (Stalin originally studied for the priesthood!). Invited to join the Batumi Georgian Dramatic Theatre Company in 1913, he began appearing on stage and made his Georgian screen debut in 1924 playing Bakhva in Three Lives (Tri zhizni, Ivan Perestiani), a former shepherd who becomes a profiteer and capitalist landowner in Georgia between 1880-1890. He then appeared in several different films during the 1920s and early ‘30s, gaining a reputation as a comedy and satirical actor in films directed by fellow Georgians Chiaureli and Giorgi Makarov (1894-1966) such as The Last Masquerade (Ukanaskneli maskaradi, Mikheil Chiaureli, 1934) and See You Soon (Nakhvamdis, Giorgi Makarov, 1934). From surviving films, it appears that even “toady” Chiaureli was engaged in very different styles than his later monotonously directed Stalin biopics. Gelovani also directed four films between 1929-1931 and gained a reputation for appearing in musicals, the last probably being put to good use when his Stalin briefly joins in as he hears an outside chorus of the Volga Boatmen in The Defense of Tsaritsyn (Oborona Tsaritsyna, Georgi and Sergei Vasilyev, 1942). This would soon change one fatal night when Stalin saw him play himself on stage and decided he would be the ideal actor to portray him in film. This was no laughing matter for Gelovani since he immediately had to relinquish his light comedy background to play someone who could instantly terminate him should displeasure occur during viewing the rushes or in the post-production process. For any actor, stereotyping creates problems by eliminating any form of versatility or giving a performance that appears stagnant by constant repetition. While elements of thespian conformity do occur in The Vow and The Fall of Berlin (Padeniye Berlina, Mikheil Chiaureli, 1949), Gelovani faced the challenge of attempting to depict some forms of versatility into displaying someone everybody knew too well at that time – and feared! If he failed, his fate was obvious. 

The Fall of Berlin

The Thespian Mousetrap

He first played Stalin in The Man with the Gun (Chelovek s ruzhyom, 1938) after his last “human” role in The Orange Valley (Narinjis Veli, Nikoloz Shengelaia and Diomide Antadze, 1937). Directed by Sergei Yutkevich (1904-1985), it features Maksim Shtraukh (1900-1974) in the first of his Lenin roles with Gelovani “as a jovial, pipe-smoking adviser beside Lenin,”³ giving Stalin a significance he never historically deserved during the early Bolshevik period. Invited for a simple proletarian potato meal with Lenin, Gelovani’s Stalin acts as a long-time friend, listening respectfully to Lenin at the table, laughing at a tale told by a combatant about a fleeing White General whose escape resulted from the title peasant-soldier character (Boris Tenin) being awed by his opponent’s uniform. All (including Stalin) laugh over the incident like “jolly fellows” in an English pub. Gelovani humanises someone who rarely laughed outside an Aleksandrov comedy film. Later, this scene would be re-edited so that Stalin is not in the sequence, either by ending up on the Khruschev cutting-room floor or with prints reframed, so he is not there. In the cut version, Lenin invites Ivan (Tenin) to “party with us”, abruptly concluding so Stalin does not appear as the now-unwelcome guest at the table. In the final scene of the film, Stalin has disappeared entirely from being seen back-to-camera with Lenin in two shots either by being air-brushed like Trotsky in official photos or simply having his last shot cut.  

If Gelovani believed he could return to musicals and comedy, he was mistaken. He soon became totally identified with a particular role not by Royal Command, but a life-threatening Stalinist offer he could not refuse. In his next film, The Great Dawn (Diadi Gant’iadi, Mikheil Chiaureli, 1938) he repeated his performance in a Soviet-Georgian production directed by Chiaureli in a more significant role. Now co-starring with Konstantin Müfke (1903-1968) as Lenin, Gelovani’s performance continues to re-write Stalin’s historical role in a film set immediately before and during October 1917. He appears one third of the way, a jovial man of the people, interacting with proletarian fighters on a basis of equality, gesturing with his pipe, and even singing a line from a song. He is constantly near Lenin, listening with respect, voicing a few ideas, acting as bodyguard, and helping him to hide. In the meantime, he dominates a meeting as if leading the Revolution rather than Lenin, Trotsky, and other old Bolsheviks whom his real-life counterpart has by now executed. In the final sequence, he appears behind Lenin in a crowd, then gradually begins to dominate the frame, standing alone after addressing those who will storm the Winter Palace. As Peter Kenez notes, this is the beginning of the process in which he will eventually take over from Lenin and dominate the frame.⁴ In other words, “A (Red) Star is Born.”  

Lenin in 1918

He continued the performance in Mikhail Romm’s Lenin in 1918 (Lenin v 1918 godu, 1939), with Boris Shchukin in the title role. Set during the Russian Civil War, following Lenin’s recovery from an assassination attempt, Gelovani appears 20 minutes before the end of the full version, assuming control of the situation, his subordinates immediately recognising his future leadership qualities. He then appears riding a car driving towards the battlefield with calm assurance, directing a battle Stalin never participated in, narrowly escaping an explosion, successively taking over Trotsky’s historical role as Commander of the Red Army, thus helping Lenin’s recovery. The full version ends with Stalin visiting Lenin, tiptoeing so as not to disturb the sleeping leader, exchanging kind words with a little girl present in benevolent Uncle Joe fashion, finally receiving a hug from his now awake Comrade, the pair conversing like good friends. As opposed to the censored version, the young Bolshevik hero sees both men together and decides not to disturb them. Both Lenin and Stalin act as foster fathers to a little girl who draws, Stalin moving her onto his knees until duty calls, leading both to direct the Civil War as equals. Gelovani humanises a monster in the service of the State.  

The Vyborg Side (Vyborgskaya storona, 1939) is the final part of Grigori Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg’s popular Maxim Trilogy. Appointed as State Commissar to the recently nationalised Russian bank, young commissar Maksim (Boris Chirkov) falls asleep one evening before beginning this important task. Lenin (Shtraukh) and Stalin (Gelovani) decide to allow the sleeping Bolshevik an extra hour. Stalin changes the hour on the blackboard and tiptoes silently past the sleeping Maksim. The censored version sees Lenin changing the mark silently himself. When Sverdlov opens the Constituent Assembly in the original version, Stalin appears seated at Lenin’s right. In the censored version, he is out of frame.

During the reaction against “formalism”, Lev Kuleshov (like Dovzhenko and Vertov) found himself under disapproval. To survive, he had to toe the line and direct “non-controversial” movies. One of these was Siberians (Sibiryaki, 1940), a children’s movie which contains certain tongue-in-cheek aspects that suggest retitling as “A Stalin Pipe” Dream. Some young pioneers think they have discovered “The Great Leader’s Pipe” left behind when he escaped from confinement decades ago. They decide to return it to him at the Kremlin. This leads to a dream sequence containing non-socialist realistic sets in Moscow. One of these is Lenin’s Tomb. This marks the beginning of Lenin’s erasure from the Stalin narrative, leading to the solitary focus of later films. The two young boy Pioneers enter Stalin’s office only to find that their female companion Valia has got there before them and is asleep on Stalin’s sofa. The whole sequence begins with Valia falling asleep on her own bed. Played as a benevolent, kindly figure, Gelovani’s Stalin wakes her up and they all celebrate the return of his pipe outside the Kremlin before a fire with a group of other young Pioneers. Uncle Joe lights up his pipe from the flames and all celebrate happily. Yet, if “Life is but a dream” so is the fantasy of returning Stalin’s lost pipe to him. Valia wakes up and receives a letter from the Kremlin stating that it is not the actual pipe, but The Great Leader is so impressed hearing about them that he invites them to the Kremlin for “dumplings”. The film ends with a close-up of Valia looking at a glamorised portrait on the wall – ecstatic in her Soviet version of “Yes, Virginia, There is a Santa Claus,” one who awaits her in The Kremlin. It is hard not to see Kuleshov’s use of deeply hidden humour here.⁵

Stalin Alone

From the ‘40s and ‘50s, whether in major or minor appearances, Gelovani’s acting developed the main frames of The Great Leader ideology that Stalin began from World War Two onwards. He would still exercise some human traits, but would develop into a quasi-divine Socialist Realist hero whose word is Law and his presence unique. Lenin is now absent. In Wings of Victory (Valeriy Chkalov, Mikhail Kalatozov, 1941) Gelovani appears in a few scenes in this film about aviator Valeriy Chkalov (1904-1938) who died in a plane crash (naturally not seen in the film). He is a fatherly figure, representing the Soviet Union, encouraging the young pilot when necessary. Adopting his jovial, father persona, he persuades the aviator not to take unnecessary risks and promotes the value of a long life, something millions of subjects would not achieve at that time. In his second appearance, an approachable pipe-smoking Stalin inspires Chkalov about his role in Soviet destiny, ending with the overwhelmed aviator’s head falling upon Stalin’s breast before he stands erect to receive his comradely handshake.

Wings of Victory

The process really begins in the two-part The Defense of Tsaritsyn, a mythological re-writing of history exaggerating Stalin’s actual role in the historical event.⁶ Directed and scripted by Georgi (1899-1946) and Sergei Vasilyev (1900-1959), well known for Chapayev (1934), this biopic cannot follow the earlier work, depicting its central character as flawed yet heroic, dying in the end, but revealing his future leadership qualities in embryo and still containing some human traits. Gelovani takes up this challenge. Like John Wayne, Gelovani cannot die on screen – but could off the set, should his performance upset Stalin’s sensibilities. 22 minutes into the film the future “Great Leader” arrives on a train like the Marshal in any Western, ready to take control of the situation, something Trotsky criticised in his biography. The genial “man of the people” listens to workers and indulges in his pipe while sitting among some sceptical children. All will soon be right in the early Bolshevik world. He soon leads a procession of workers with a prominent red flag prior to the arrival of his own real-life “toady” Voroshilov (1881-1969). Following a meeting where the genial, pipe-smoking Stalin takes centre stage proposing a grand strategy to his enthralled audience, Gelovani opens a window, hears “The Song of the Volga Boatmen” sung by a group outside, joins in as lead singer with a few lines, then closes the window and goes to the telegraph area to send a strategic message to Lenin, influenced by the collective will of the people that he correctly interprets. Lenin immediately answers that he will follow Stalin’s strategy. The sequence ends with the camera tracking into Stalin’s inspired face ending with the lines, “I will justify the trust, dear leader.” Here the actor can return to his musical days as well as humanising an austere leader. Part One ends with Stalin overseeing the successful construction of a railway bridge through his binoculars, the camera tracking 90 degrees around him, assuring the audience that the winning of the Civil War is in the right hands. In the second part, Stalin’s presence supplies confidence to the Bolsheviks exhibiting firm authority and resolution, participating with Voroshilov in defending the city, vulnerable to a bullet nearly finishing him, and emerging from cover to drag a dying soldier in from the rain. He is, before his rise to power, a “Great Leader”, aware of the failures of Trotsky and ready to rule his country. After a rousing speech, Stalin joins the head of the marching people, ready to bring victory and indirectly unite a proletarian couple as he will at the conclusion of The Fall of Berlin. The film ends like a Western, the Red Army pursuing the Whites on horseback with Stalin and Voroshilov back in the saddle again, dismounting, and saluting the pursuing Reds, concluding with a track-in to a close-up of Gelovani having the last word as any Great Leader should.

Uncle Joe – Superstar! 

Stalin was popularly known in the West as “Uncle Joe” due to the wartime alliance; Gelovani’s acting of Stalin changed in the Cold War era to reflect the deification of the Great Leader as a symbol of opposition to the West. Although The Vow and the two-part The Fall of Berlin feature Gelovani as a Superstar, his acting now becomes less interesting, exhibiting little variation unlike in the earlier films, designed more to depict Stalin as a god-like statuesque being, remote from human concerns, a Red Saviour devoted to moulding his country in his version of conformity to the Stalinist cause. 

The Vow

The Vow begins the final process of Stalin’s canonization not as a saint, but as the heir to Lenin, whose image appears in the opening credits. However, the presence of a heavenly male chorus towards the end of this sequence assures the viewer that Stalin will be Lenin’s “beloved son” with whom the Party is “well pleased”. Gelovani is first seen 20 minutes into the film in a mid-close-up silently mourning Lenin’s passing, shot in the best traditions of cinematic hagiography that will occupy the length of the film, interacting with the fortunes of a Bolshevik family from 1924 to the present day. Gelovani walks to that well-known bench in Gorky where Lenin was last photographed. Now snow-covered, Stalin removes his fur hat. A cut from the bench reveals a Vaseline-lensed close-up of Gelovani, his “finest hour” removed from his previous portrayals, now becoming less human but divinely anointed. Background music worthy of a Cecil B. DeMille biblical epic testifies to the seriousness of the moment. He has a job ahead of him, especially when we earlier see the later executed Bukharin and Kamenev musing over “the end of an era”, plotting to take the Soviet Union into a very different direction. Sitting at Lenin’s desk after doodling an image of Lenin on paper, he remembers his former teacher, documentary images of whom appear superimposed on the right side of the screen. Words are redundant. Only Gelovani’s facial expressions articulate sorrow and fond memories of the departed Lenin. Accompanied by the Bolshevik version of a heavenly chorus, Stalin addresses a huge crowd of workers who have come on a pilgrimage to Moscow vowing to continue Lenin’s mission and getting his reverential audience to do the same. The scene ends with a banner of Lenin unfurled, with the chorus reaching heights of religious orgasmic ecstasy. Absurd, yes. But, as an accomplished actor, Gelovani makes the scene work.

Stalin later begins the Five-Year Plan in Tsaritsyn, listened to in adulation by workers and children very much like those later images of Mao. In the Red Square, he diagnoses a faulty spark plug weakening the performance of a Soviet-made tractor. Dealing with a snarky Bukharin who wants to import them from America, driving it with visions of multiple tractors that Lenin dreamed of, he is more down-to-earth in this sequence, a man of the people, but one whom his audience must keep a respectful distance from. Isn’t The Great Leader Wonderful? His rise interacts with the fortunes of the Petrov family. Several years later, after the completion of Five-Year Plans, Stalin holds a reception in the Kremlin where all the guests, including the Petrovs, reveal themselves as cultured. Peasant dances occur with one of Stalin’s colleagues from 1918 Tsaritsyn performing a traditional dance to the applause and smiles of Stalin himself. Stalin later speaks personally to Mother Petrov in a kindly manner, both musing about how far they have both come and recognising the imminent dangers of the next war. Gelovani performs this quiet moment superbly. The film moves towards its climax showing the siege of Stalingrad with the mother losing her son but emerging victorious at the end after the German defeat. The final sequence shows her honoured in the Kremlin by Stalin, the great leader bowing to kiss her hand, both affirming that they have kept their vow to Lenin with the camera moving into a close-up of who is the most important oath-keeper as the film ends with an orchestral crescendo and heavenly chorus. Gelovani appears to have reached his peak in an elevated acting style of cinematic deity. But more is to come. Sergei Yutkevich’s Light over Russia (Svet nad Rossyey, 1947) continues to “print the (celluloid) legend”, restoring Lenin to Stalin’s side in a propaganda work about electrification and Lenin’s meeting with H. G. Wells told from the perspective of a Bolshevik sailor from 1917 to the present day. Eight minutes into the film Gelovani appears seated next to Lenin, concerned for his health but ready to carry out his mission in 1920. He later appears in the Kremlin with Lenin and Dzerzhinsky, leaning against the wall like a jovial bouncer, as all persuade a reluctant anti-Bolshevik about the merits of electrification. In the Kremlin cinema, Stalin gently moves a spectator to sit down so his shadow will not obscure the screen showing an industrial documentary. The film ends with a double close-up image of Lenin and Stalin looking leftwards.

Shot in beautiful Agfacolor, with opening bucolic shots reminiscent of Cossacks of the Kuban (Kubanskie kazaki) directed by Ivan Pyryev (1901-1968) in the same year, the first part of Chiaureli’s The Fall of Berlin opens by implicitly identifying the yellow cornfield, blue skies and red roses with Stalin’s collective farm projects. If The Vow focusses on Russian family values involving enthusiasm and tribulation successfully resolved by Stalin’s ascendency at the end of the film, then The Fall of Berlin involves a romantic relationship between a podgy Stakhanovite and his schoolteacher fiancé disrupted by the beginning of World War Two but successfully resolved when the couple are reunited after five years separation outside the ruined Reichstag, now bearing the Soviet flag cheerfully applauding the fictional arrival of Stalin by plane that ironically counterpoints Hitler’s descent to Nuremberg from on high at the beginning of Riefenstahl’s Triumph of the Will (Triumph des Willens, 1934). Did anybody point this out to Chiaureli or did the excessive nature of this celebratory project suggest a concealed subversive gesture at the end? At any rate, Gelovani represents a living statue, a quasi-divine being who can only emote superiority, and deliver Bolshevik commandments. The only time Gelovani approaches his friendly persona of early films is when fearful Stakhanovite Aleksei (Boris Andreyev) is summoned to Stalin’s presence to receive the Order of Lenin. Possibly expecting to be shot, the shaking Aleksei receives The Great Leader’s embrace and help with his romantic involvement.⁷ Gelovani does not appear until some 20 minutes into the film, his star entrance introduced by the camera panning along a row of trees, a reverential male chorus in the background, then panning down to show Stalin listening to the sound of a chirping bird in whom he is “well pleased”. He is doing his own gardening, a human pursuit – until we remember the Gardener’s lines in Richard II, Act III, scene 4 – “Cut off the heads of too fast-growing sprays, that look too lofty in our Commonwealth.” As audiences knew, Stalin had engaged in his own version of pruning against millions who were not “too lofty”. However, Gelovani makes this Stalin a non-threatening father figure, a solid statuesque bulwark opposing a Hitler resembling Bruno Ganz on a bad night. In Part Two, Gelovani reprises his humming The Volga Boatmen’s Song from The Defense of Tsaritsyn as he studies a map on his own before giving orders to his Generals to take Berlin. 

Gelovani has little to do in this film expect look like a Great Leader and make pronouncements for World Peace, thus placing the blame for the Cold War on the Allies already conspiring to restore Capitalism to Russia. At the Yalta Conference, he confronts FDR, a bullish Winston Churchill (Viktor Stanitsyn), and smirking Anthony Eden, refusing Churchill’s request to toast The King until FDR diplomatically suggests President Kalinin (1875-1946), the one Old Bolshevik who survived the Reign of Terror. In a finale derived from Alexander Nevsky (and possibly John Ford Westerns including dancing), the Red Army and rescued prisoners perform the traditional Kamarinskaya, even giving a victorious Russian General an invitation to the dance. Stalin then arrives from on high, the people collaborating in a chorus reminiscent of Alexander Nevsky, with Alexei reunited with Natasha having undergone their own version of War and Peace. Saluted by the flags of all nations, the film ends with a mid-close-up of The Great Leader now enshrined as a cinematic monument. If Godard once equated Nicholas Ray with the Cinema, then Gelovani becomes Soviet Cinema at this point of time.⁸

 In The Lights of Baku (Ogni Baku, Iosif Kheifits, Rza Tahmasib and Aleksandr Zarkhi, 1950), Gelovani’s Stalin makes a brief cameo appearance to encourage the oil workers in a scene later deleted while Stanitsyn’s Churchill remains. He also makes an uncredited appearance one hour into the Agfa production The Miners of the Donetsk (Donetskie shakhtyory, Leonid Lukov, 1951) inside the Kremlin for three minutes solving industrial issues. His portraits and verbal references occur frequently throughout the film. Chiaureli’s 1952 The Unforgettable Year 1919 (Nezabyvaemyy 1919 god) featured his last star appearance as Stalin. Playing him with a different wig and a more youthful early ‘40s appearance, Gelovani undertakes a “Mission Impossible” task from Lenin to foil a plan by Churchill (Stanitsyn in his most constipated bullfrog persona) to use the Royal Navy to aid counter-revolutionaries and overthrow the new Soviet Union. Gelovani moves away from his godly persona of The Vow and The Fall of Berlin to present an approachable yet no-nonsense figure of the future leader who will not suffer fools gladly (especially if they are commissars ogling dancing peasant girls in perilous times), who enjoys a bowl of porridge with his men after forcing back the Royal Navy, and who appears as welcome guest at the wedding of the required Bolshevik hero (who moves from sailor to Cheka), finally receiving an award from Lenin at the Kremlin, then delivering a speech praising his influence. The most amusing ironic scene in the film is of Woodrow Wilson, Lloyd George, and Clemenceau on their knees before a map of the Ukraine, eagerly devouring their expected spoils in Buckingham Palace. Churchill then arrives to tell them the bad news, but plans future plots very much in the spirit of the closing words of Christopher Lee’s Fu Manchu in each film – “The world has not heard the last of me.” Yet Stalin will remain strong for any future Hot and Cold Wars.

The Unforgettable Year 1919

Hostile Whirlwinds (Vikhri vrazhdebnye, Mikhail Kalatozov, 1953) saw his last appearance as Stalin. The current available copy lacks the last four minutes where Gelovani probably appeared outside reassuring the masses following the Left Opposition (Trotsky & Co seen from behind) leaving a meeting after a tongue-lashing delivered by Felix Dzerzhinsky (1877-1926), in this biopic portrayed as “Mr Nice Guy” and not the monster he was. Ironically, we see Trotsky (1879-1940) briefly, but not Stalin, who has now begun to be eliminated from history in 1956 like his former political rival, but only on the cinema screen. His presence will still haunt Russia and the edited footage of Gelovani will return to Soviet films following Putin’s admiration of the “Great Leader” role. Gelovani’s last three years were spent in artistic exile. He never made a film again, engaged in only one production at the Film Actors Theatre Studio, became depressed and fell seriously ill regretting the waste of an acting career that confined him to play only one role from 1938 onwards.⁹ He died on Stalin’s birthday on 21 December 1956, without the obituary due to him, only a brief death notice. However, while Stalin never passed into oblivion, this actor did. Gelovani deserves some recognition both for his tragic last two decades as well as for performing a role to the best of his abilities where failure would have resulted in instant death both for himself and his family.¹⁰ He was a rare example of his profession – an actor under threat – performing a compulsory role to the best of his abilities.

Filmography

• Three Lives (1924)
• Rider from the West Wind (1925)
• The Ninth Wave (1925)
• Two Hunters (1926)
• Evil Spirit (1927). Also directed.
• Youth Wins (1929) d. only
• Out of the Way! (1931)
• Deed of Valor (1931) d. only 
• True Caucasian (1931) d. only
• Good-Bye (1934) 
• The Last Masquerade (1934) 
• Orange Valley (1937)
• The Return of Maxim (1937)
• The Man with the Gun (1938)
• The Great Dawn (1938) 
• Lenin in 1918 (1939)
• The Vyborg Side (1949)
• Siberians (1940)
• Wings of Victory (1941)
• The Defense of Tsaritsyn (1942)
• The Vow (1946)
• Light over Russia (1947)
• The Fall of Berlin (1949)
• The Fires of Baku (1950)
• The Miners of the Donetsk (1951)
• The Unforgettable Year 1919 (1952)
• Hostile Whirlwinds (1953)

Endnotes