Cheburashka: The sad and helpless baby as Russia's national symbol

A remarkable thing happened in January when a Russian comedy instantly overtook Avatar by revenues and became the most financially successful movie in years. It’s remarkable, because the hero of that comedy may very well be called if not the national symbol, then at least a national mascot. There is not a single person in the country who doesn’t know that hero since childhood. We are talking about an animation for children, half a century old, now recreated as a normal movie with live actors and just one animated doll, that very national symbol.

His name, Cheburashka, is as hard for Indians to remember as Tamil names are hard for Russians. It’s a doll of a nonexistent exotic tropical animal a bit like a lemur that got itself to Russia in a crate full of fruit. His distinct features are huge furry ears, big innocent eyes and short arms and legs meant only for shuffling. All in all, it’s a baby of 3-4 years.

In the original animation, made in 1971, this kind of helpless creature could only survive with the help of a grown-up, namely Gena the elderly crocodile. They never part, with the old croc having infinite patience to situations like “Gena, let’s do it this way: I’ll carry the suitcase, and you will carry me. – That’s a very good idea, Cheburashka”. In the end, the sad and cuddly animal finds plenty of other friends and goes to school.

The remake has little basic difference from the original, although the same Gena nowadays is not a crocodile, but an old and grumbling crocodile-like garden cleaner. The plot is generally similar, telling the children that things will be OK for them with the help of accommodating and forgiving elder relatives or friends.

A real cultural battle began in the 1990s when foreign, mostly American movies for children flooded the country. The contrast was sharp, and millions of people began to complain that the old Soviet animations were invariably gentle and kind while the Hollywood doodles showed the active and aggressive, if not cruel, personalities of all ages. That’s how the Soviet movies for children got another lease of life since parents fought to limit the cruel foreign things and show their children the nice and cuddly creatures and the kind human relations of home origin. These were those parents and grandparents who gladly accompanied their siblings to movie theatres in January, happy to see Cheburashka once again. And it goes without saying that this natural process was, and is, shaping a Russian national character better than any government or school propaganda.

It’s noteworthy that recently the world-famous Masha and the Bear hit the screens not only in Russia but kind of everywhere. And while Cheburashka stayed almost a purely domestic phenomenon, Masha has conquered the world – it got 100 billion viewings on YouTube last December. That means that, theoretically, every inhabitant of the planet has viewed Masha 12.5 times. New series keep on coming out.

And here we see again a similar reincarnated couple – a child with an elderly and patient protector. The only difference is, the child is, maybe, 6 or 7 years of age, and she is a hyperactive and mischievous creature, unlike the helpless Cheburashka of old. In fact, the new Cheburashka, too, is much more active than his predecessor.

The bear, now – that animal is a symbol of pure ferocity for a Westerner, but an Indian is more likely to know that you can reason with a bear, and you can tame it for a circus. In fact, Masha’s bear is a retired circus actor, and he keeps his rewards of that time, framed and lining the walls of his house.

The bear is a powerful political symbol of the nation, being the mascot of the ruling United Russia party and the favourite subject of quotations about Russia’s behaviour in the world, with a general idea that it can be your friend and ally unless provoked into fury.

So what does this couple, with its eternal reincarnations, tell us about the Russians as a nation? I hope I have a right to say that a typical Russian may often be a sullen, pessimistic creature, seldom challenging any authority unless seriously provoked, but never even thinking about really following each and any rule or obligation that the said authorities may try to impose on people. That creature is always true to its own, mostly collective, ideas about things like propriety, justice and honesty.

A Russian is also a great fan of the truth, whatever it is, harbouring dark thoughts that the said truth is something that can only be felt, not said out loud. But the moment some thinker or even a politician suddenly pronounces something that everybody knew to be true anyway, that person earns universal respect.

Here lies the secret for a lot of Russian actions on a personal or national level. First comes the false acceptance of whatever ideas are being pushed on a group of people or the nation, be it – as an example - a part of a woke ideology or all of it. Then, suddenly, it appears that there was no acceptance at all, the public just waited for yet another falsehood to be drowned in grim reality.

The current war with Ukraine is a good example. Everyone in Russia knew all along that one cannot tolerate the eight-year atrocities against the Russian cities in the East of Ukraine, even if that’s technically another country. And everyone knew that Russia had to stop it, sooner or later.

But how do that eternal couple, a child and its kind and patient elder protector, come into the equation? You may say that a Russian knows, deep in the heart, that this is how it should be. Everyone is a child, in need of an elder to guide and protect them. And everyone is, at the same time, becoming that elder protector, to aid those in need.

The author is a columnist for the Russian State agency website ria.ru, as well as for other publications. Views expressed are personal.

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