From the finest stages in the world. Today we're in Milan, tomorrow in Vienna, and thereafter in Verona. You have the guaranteed ability to see all the masterpieces of the world. The broadcasts are in stereo, with sound quality indistinguishable from a compact disk. And at this time thousands of first-class Russian performers and musicians are appearing on the stages of Petersburg and Novgorod, Ekaterinburg and Perm, but their fame does not extend beyond the walls of their own theaters, existing in isolation and practically superfluous, as if television had not yet been invented.
Masterpieces come and go, unknown to contemporary artists and unrecorded for posterity.
We have poor-quality pictures and recordings of Pavlov and Chaliapin at the beginning of the century, but absolutely no recordings of MXAT orMarinika at the end of the nineties. Such people must simply be on television. Commercial television is a law unto itself, a delirium stalking the land, having fixed its eyes on the rating table. Cultural television is open to the world, seeing in it an enormous treasure, an endless source of new impressions. Of course, it is impossible to create such television with the tired half-smile of the disillusioned genius who has already seen everything.