Timergalina Aigul Yamilovna
Job title: primary school teacher
Educational institution: MBOU Secondary School No. 1, Askino village
Locality: Republic of Belarus, Askinsky district, Askino village
Name of material: Methodological development
Subject: Theatrical performance of the fairy tale "Ryaba Hen in a new way"
Publication date: 14.02.2018
Chapter: elementary education

Pageant

Leading:- Hello children, Dear colleagues, guests! We are glad to see you again

You! Each of us loves fairy tales: you are children and even we are adults.

Leading. Today we will talk about a fairy tale. It's been a long time for us

familiar existence of cars, airplanes, spaceships. Wanted

be transported to the ends of the world - turn on the TV and landscapes will appear on the screen

Africa, Amazon jungle, polar bear on an ice floe. People have created more miracles

than fairy-tale heroes.

But why does the fairy tale remain so sweet and dear? Why still

make up fairy tales? The fact is that all adults were once children, and children

be sure to tell stories. And no matter what we invent, no matter where it takes us

fate, a fairy tale will remain with us. The fairy tale was born with a man, and as long as the man is alive,

the fairy tale will also be alive. She is a firefly before going to bed in the cradle and for the little one who

listens, and for the old one who speaks.

Today you guys have to meet the fairy tale once again.

Let's open the curtain-veil,

And before us for a moment

The wonderful forest spread its branches.

We, holding back the excitement slightly,

Let's enter the world of fairy tales and miracles.

Miracles await us in this hall today.

(A melody sounds and Baba Yaga appears)

Baba Yaga

Beware! Disperse!

All over the place, stop!

What kind of gathering are you having?

At an inopportune winter time?

Hello, dear ones!

Hello sweeties!

Do you recognize me?

Yes, I am Babushka Yaga! I'm 300 years old

I'm evil and harmful

Leading: Grandma Yaga, and you’re not evil or harmful at all. Help us into a fairy tale

Baba Yaga: Oh, did you want to go to a fairy tale?

Look what? But you guess my riddles and then I’ll think about it.

(Baba Yaga asks riddles)

1.Waited for mother with milk,

And they let a wolf into the house...

Who were these

Little children? (seven kids)

2. She was an artist

Beautiful as a star

From the evil Karabas

Escaped forever. (Malvina)

3. This is not at all difficult,

Quick question:

Who put it in the ink

Wooden nose? (Pinocchio)

4. The man is not young

With a beard like this.

Offends Pinocchio,

Artemon and Malvina,

And in general for all people

He is a notorious villain.

Do any of you know

Who is this? (Karabas)

5. A little larger than a marigold.

In a walnut crib

The girl was sleeping.

And so small

She was cute.

Have you read such a book?

What's this little girl's name? (Thumbelina)

6. Thumbelina blind groom

Lives underground all the time. (Mole)

7.I went to visit my grandmother,

I brought the pies to her.

The Gray Wolf was watching her,

Deceived and swallowed. (Little Red Riding Hood)

8. She was a friend of the dwarves

And, of course, you are familiar with it. (Snow White)

9. If only the evening would come soon,

And the long-awaited hour has come,

May I be in a gilded carriage

Go to a fabulous ball!

No one in the palace will know

Where am I from, what is my name,

But as soon as midnight comes,

I will return to my attic. (Cinderella)

10. Grandfather and grandmother lived together,

They made a daughter out of a snowball,

But the fire is hot

Turned the girl into steam.

Grandfather and grandmother are sad.

What was their daughter's name? (Snow Maiden)

11. The red maiden is sad:

She doesn't like spring

It's hard for her in the sun!

The poor thing is shedding tears (Snegurochka)

12. Near the forest, on the edge,

Three of them live in a hut.

There are three chairs and three mugs,

Three beds, three pillows.

Guess without a hint

Who are the heroes of this fairy tale? (Three Bears)

13. The nose is round, with a snout,

It’s convenient for them to rummage in the ground,

Small crochet tail

Instead of shoes - hooves.

Three of them - and to what extent?

Friendly brothers look alike.

Guess without a hint

Who are the heroes of this fairy tale? (Three piglets)

14. Treats small children,

Heals birds and animals

He looks through his glasses

Good doctor... (Aibolit)

15. This fairy-tale hero

With a ponytail, mustache,

He has a feather in his hat,

I'm all striped,

He walks on two legs

In bright red boots. (Puss in Boots)

16. It turned out to be a girl

In the cup of a flower

And there was that girl (Thumbelina)

17.Devouring rolls,

A guy was riding on a stove.

Rode around the village

And married the princess (Emelya)

18. The fat man lives on the roof,

He flies higher than everyone else. (Carlson)

19. As a child, everyone laughed at him,

They tried to push him away:

After all, no one knew that he

Born a white swan. (Ugly duck)

20. Queen on a snow sleigh

By winter sky flew.

I touched the boy by accident.

He became cold and unkind... (Kai)

(The melody “Russian folk song” sounds)

Presentation of the fairy tale "Ryaba Hen in a new way"

Girls and boys

I'm glad to welcome you

In this bright good hour.

Well, take your seats.

I'll tell you a story

Once upon a time there lived a woman and a grandfather

In the village for many years.

As people used to say

They lived, it seemed, and did not grieve.

Grandma in the garden with a hoe

All day long the beds are flying,

Grandfather waves his scythe in the morning -

Old people are never bored.

Sing ditties

Grandma: I’ll water the cucumbers, carrots,

Tomatoes, cabbage,

If you're not lazy in the summer,

It will be delicious in winter.

Grandfather: I'll take my ax

I'll chop more firewood,

And when winter comes

I'll heat the stove hot.

The chicken was called Ryaba.

They loved the chicken

And fed and watered

Ryaba lives well

Ryaba: Thanks to grandpa and grandma.

Grandfather: It’s not time to eat, grandma.

Haven't eaten anything since morning

the sun is high, look

Baba: my hands, go to the house

I have everything ready:

Porridge, cabbage soup, and pies

Should I pour some fresh milk?

Or kvass? See for yourself.

Grandfather: we live well here

We eat and drink everything of our own.

The air is fresh, the sun is shining

good we live here!

(The chicken clucks)

Baba: Ryabushka is cackling something

Grandfather: So go and have a look

Baba: Grandfather, come out onto the porch!

Ryaba laid an egg for us!

Grandfather: Well, she demolished it, what’s the matter!

What are you, woman, stunned!

Baba: Yes, the egg is not easy

Oh, look, it's golden!

We never dreamed of this!

What to do with such goodness?

Grandfather: So we are rich

Baba: Hush, hush, don't shout!

Let's quickly go home

Windows, doors, everything around

Close it on the hook

And about this, well, keep quiet.

Is this not science to you?

Well, now they're retired

So, millionaires!

Baba: Look, it’s burning like heat

Grandfather: There wouldn’t have been a fire

Baba: Oh, it’s burning, it’s blinding your eyes

Grandfather: Miracles!

Baba: Yes! Miracles!

Grandfather: Lock him in the chest!

Knock on the door

Baba: There's no one at home

Look, neighbors, as luck would have it

Inadvertently brought

You go lock the bolt

Yes, we should let the dogs go.

I, old man, will go to the city

There is a market there on Wednesday

There are a lot of rich people out there

I'll sell them an egg!

I'll get enough for my coat

I am Siberian sables

I'll buy new things

Forty different skirts

Blue floral shawl

I'll fill my chest to the brim

Grandfather: Why are you telling tales!

Look, you've found a young girl!

Dress up in different trash!

Not if we are rich

I'll build a hut instead

Three-story chambers

And gazebos in the corners.

Baba: Punishment with a stupid husband

What are you, old man, don't be a whim!

We live no worse than others

We don't need floors!

And for these gazebos

Your neighbors will laugh at you!

Grandfather: Let them laugh, I don’t feel sorry!

Baba: Calm down, don't shout

I'll hit you with a rolling pin

Grandfather: Listen, you, woman, shut up!

Am I the boss or not!

Baba: Oh, I don’t like the white light!

Yes, we had a fight with each other.

Scattered around the corners...

(A mouse appears, takes the egg in its paws, and sniffs it.)

Mouse: I would like some cheese! I'm a mouse!

(The grandmother, seeing the mouse, runs to the table and screams))

Baba: Shoot, you villain! Shoo-shoo-shoo!

(The mouse throws the egg down and hides.)

Baba: Oh, it crashed! Oops, it crashed! Grandfather here!

Grandfather: Yes, what happened?

Baba: a mouse was running across the table

Only I said: “Shoo!”

How she waved her tail

Turned everything upside down

And the egg rolled...

And it crashed! Oops, it crashed!

Grandfather: Wow, villain! Oh, trouble!

I will never forgive her!

What a misfortune has happened!

Oh, it crashed! Oh, it crashed!

Together: Oh, the white light is not nice to us

(Chicken appears)

Ryaba: What are you, woman, what are you, grandfather?

Grandfather: Ryaba, believe it or not!

A mouse was running across the table

Grandma told her: “Shoo!”

And she waved her tail

Turned everything upside down

And the egg rolled...

Together: It rolled and crashed!

Ryaba: Don’t cry, grandfather and woman,

It's not a problem at all

Well, an egg broke -

That's right, nonsense!

Was life bad before?

with you, woman, with you, grandfather,

lived - they didn’t seem to grieve,

without wealth for so many years

happiness is not in this at all,

whether you are rich or not!

Grandfather: stop shedding tears, woman!

Ryaba speaks the truth

So what have we done?

Miracles are just trouble!

We will live as we lived before,

And work as always!

Baba: And you can fix a fur coat

And you can fix the house

Grandfather: Only that, apparently, is reliable

What comes to us through hard work.

Baba: since we have such a share,

that we are peasant people

I'll go and weed the potatoes,

Let me water my garden!

grandfather: I’ll chop some wood,

Yes, I’ll heat the bathhouse hot.

I won't get tired of talking

It's good to live in the village!

Grandfather: Open the doors, old woman.

Why should we hide now?

Hey neighbors!

Baba: Hey, neighbor!

Forgetting friends is not a bad idea!

Come in for an hour

I have good kvass,

And pickles and jams,

Together: Come in without hesitation!

Host: “Why do we need fairy tales?”

Why do we need fairy tales?

What does a person look for in them?

Maybe kindness and affection.

Maybe yesterday's snow.

In a fairy tale, joy wins

A fairy tale teaches us to love.

In a fairy tale, animals come to life,

They start talking.

In a fairy tale, everything is fair:

Both the beginning and the end.

The brave prince leads the princess

Definitely down the aisle.

Snow White and the mermaid,

Old dwarf, good gnome -

It’s a pity for us to leave the fairy tale,

Like a cozy sweet home.

Read fairy tales to children!

Teach them to love.

Maybe in this world

It will become easier for people to live.

Baba Yaga:

There are many fairy tales in the world

Sad and funny

And live in the world

We can't live without them.

Together:

We say to you: “Goodbye! See you happy next time!”

Standard No. 18 (not for stupid people)
How to write an outstanding article?
To write a brilliant thing, you need to sit down at the computer and type:
1. Once upon a time (then you need to name the names, positions and regalia of the main characters of your story). For example, grandfather and grandmother (if we're talking about about permanent characters, you can go to point 3).
2. And they had (it is necessary to name (list) what they had - things, property, animals, people who will later become key objects in your story) Ryaba the Chicken.
3. One day (what happened?) The hen laid an egg.
4. But not simple (what was unusual about what happened?), but golden.
5. Grandfather (describe in detail the reaction of the main characters to the incident, what actions were taken by them?) beat-beat -
6. Didn’t break (what were the consequences of these actions?).
7. Baba (describe in detail the subsequent actions of the heroes) bila-bila -
8. Didn’t break (result).
9. The mouse ran (the appearance of a new character who unexpectedly changed the course of events),
10. Hooked her tail ( detailed description actions of the new character),
11. The testicle fell and broke (the result of these actions).
12. The grandfather is crying, the woman is crying (the reaction and actions of the main characters to the incident, their thoughts, experiences),
13. And the chicken clucks (who took it all upon himself in difficult times, supported, inspired, instilled faith in people?): “Don’t cry, grandfather, don’t cry, woman.
14. I will demolish (analysis of the event, analysis of resources, what were possible solutions tasks, what decision was made, how the brilliant idea was born, who gave birth to it?) another testicle.
15. Not golden, but simple (how much did you manage to earn, save on a new project?).
16. This is the end of the fairy tale, and whoever listened - well done (moral, conclusions, useful experience, explanation of why it was important for the reader to read this story?).

And here are the three criteria by which we ask you, dear readers, evaluate published materials in your letters and calls:
1. useful - useless;
2. interesting - not interesting;

Of the abundance of Russian folk tales, we can single out at least three, which each of us certainly remembers by heart. Of course, these are “Ryaba Chicken”, “Kolobok” and “Turnip”. Everyone knows these fairy tales, but do they understand them?

I was puzzled by this question after I discovered an abundance of articles on the Internet with scary titles like “Analysis of the Russian fairy tale “The Ryaba Hen” in the theory of object relations,” or “Kolobok.” Literal, archetypal, natural, ritual and etymological interpretations." And it’s okay if they were humorous or artistic interpretations, but no - they write scientifically, in all seriousness, and often in 50-100 thousand characters. The abundance of this abstruse nonsense makes us think about how strangely the brains of individual members of the intelligentsia are structured.

Well, let's see what mysteries (real and imaginary) are hidden in these three popular fairy tales.

“Ryaba Hen, where is your woman?” (P. Mamonov)

Anyone who is seriously interested in our folk tales will never pass by the academic publication.... Alexander Nikolaevich Afanasyev - a Russian follower of the Brothers Grimm. It was he who first collected, systematized and published a collection of our fabulous heritage. The first collections were published back in the 1860s, and the complete collection was published in 1873.

It should be immediately noted that folk art unlike the author's, there is no tendency to have one version of the same story. Usually there are many options, and they are sometimes very different from the one that is later recognized as canonical and published in popular publications. It’s the same with the “Pockmarked Hen”.

Afanasyev’s tale is simply called “The Hen” and sounds completely different. Firstly, there is no talk of any golden egg in it. The hen lays a simple egg, which is immediately broken by the mouse. After which it begins the real end Sveta. Grandfather and woman, as expected, cry, but their granddaughter, out of grief... hangs herself. After which the news about broken egg the chain spreads throughout the village, the malt cup breaks and throws the malt, the sexton “ran to the bell tower and broke all the bells,” and the priest tears up the books.

It is clear that here the fairy tale tells about stupid people who panic because of a trifle - such popular “black humor”.

However, the tale was not exhausted by Afanasyev’s variants, and as a result, the retelling became classic famous teacher K. Ushinsky, published in his anthology “ Native word" All the components are already present here - and golden egg, which does not give in to the grandfather and woman, but is broken by a mouse, and the Ryaba Hen’s promise to lay a simple egg instead of a golden one.

It is on this option that modern “researchers” are sharpening their teeth. They see the mystery of the fairy tale in the supposedly absurd actions, and ask the following questions:
1) Why do grandfather and woman beat the golden egg?
2) Why does the mouse manage to break the egg?
3) Why, when the mouse essentially fulfills their wish, do they not rejoice, but cry?
4) Why does the Hen promise them to lay a simple egg, and not a golden one, to replace the broken one?

After which discussions begin about cosmogonic myths, where the world is born from the World Egg, about the mouse, which is the “spirit of ancestors” and a magical helper. They write even more abruptly.

I. Flerova " Slavic roots Russian spirit":
“...It fell not because of the mouse’s tail, but because of neglect of the treasure. They lost their reverence and it broke. Isn't it the same in our lives? Everything is destroyed if neglected: love, health, knowledge, Motherland, language, air, rivers, plants, animals. Everything is dying."

M. Chernenko ““Ryaba Hen” and “Turnip””:
“The mouse is not just an allegory in the form of an animal. This is a symbol of thought, that divine thought that comes suddenly, gives impetus to stagnant affairs, and inspires deeds. This is a prophetic or divine impulse that the Almighty sends to our people in difficult times.”

M. Vigdorchik “Analysis of the Russian fairy tale “The Ryaba Hen” in the theory of object relations”:
“A golden egg laid by a hen is a symbol of a child who has special significance for his parents. ...grandfather and woman beat an egg. They beat - they educate, they try to bring the egg into line with their ideas, and the bitterness of disappointment sets in when at one moment a certain “mouse” achieves what they themselves could not achieve in relation to the egg. Who is she, this mouse? And her symbolic meaning and her actions (wagging her tail) indicate that this is a woman (daughter-in-law) who is perceived by her son’s parents as a rival who behaves frivolously. Parents can find consolation only in the remaining “Ryaba Hen” and her reproductive function.”

Psychologist E. Veremenko:
“If it was “Ryaba Hen” that sunk into the soul, then adult life a person may develop such traits as greed, hoarding, quarrelsomeness, and he may resist certain norms and rules. Or, on the contrary, he becomes a pedant, striving to build his life according to self-invented norms and rules.”

I think that's enough. After reading such opuses, I thought that either the authors do not have everything at home, or they live by the principle: “I don’t want it to be simple, but I want it to be complicated.” I conducted my small survey among the most ordinary acquaintances, not burdened with such deep “erudition.” And almost all of them perfectly understood the essence of the fairy tale about the golden egg. It is clear that the grandfather and woman wanted to eat and had no idea about the value of gold. Smash golden shell not easy. The mouse is, of course, a funny fairy-tale assumption - Avon is so small and weak, and she broke a testicle (by the way, the mouse in fairy tales often solves problems). It is clear that the mouse did not break the egg the way it was supposed to - no one will eat the contents of the egg from the floor. And it is clear that seeing that the grandfather and woman do not understand anything about gold, the Chicken promises not to experiment anymore and to eat full-fledged high-calorie food.

Explain what's so complicated about this? There is no “existential absurdity” here, but there is comic story about different perceptions of different values. Remember how Robinson, having found a chest of gold, sadly exclaimed: “Why do I need you on a desert island?”

Of course, if people had written a fairy tale, as E. Klyuev suggested to do in an ironic form, no questions would have arisen.

“Let’s imagine:
“Once upon a time there lived a grandfather and a woman. They had Ryaba chicken. The chicken laid an egg - not an ordinary egg, but a golden one. Grandfather was happy. The woman was happy. They took the egg and carried it to the market. And there, for this golden egg, they sold them ten thousand simple ones. They ate a hundred eggs, and the rest were rotten.”
...Wonderful fairy tale! I’m giving it to my friend: let him tell his grandchildren and great-grandchildren about his resourceful grandfather and grandmother.”

By the way, in the 1920s, when there was still controversy surrounding the fairy tale genre - it was harmful Soviet child or useful - on the basis of “Chicken-Ryaba” two organizations even got into a fight - the Children’s Commission under the State Administration of the USSR and the Commission under the Glavsotsvos. The first was against the inclusion of fairy tales in the circle children's reading– they say, the child must be given correct ideas about the world. The second answered reasonably: “The fairy tale “Ryaba Hen” is included in a number of reading books intended for the first grades of rural schools. It’s up to the teachers to explain to the children that chickens don’t lay golden eggs, and the village children themselves know this very well.”

As it turns out, it’s not just children who need to explain the meaning of the simplest fairy tales...

Ryaba the hen laid eggs, as she was supposed to. fairy tale plot, golden egg. And then no fairy tales - just cool realism, so familiar to readers and admirers of Anatoly Kurchatkin. Golden fever according to Jack London - with night shooting and attacks on collectors - whatever you say, not the most traditional plot for the Russian rural hinterland. But this fever shakes the heroes who are quite ours - juicy, Gogolian, painfully familiar... Not one of them will emerge from the battle for the golden shells without losses.

* * *

The given introductory fragment of the book The Ryaba Hen, or the Golden Sign (Anatoly Kurchatkin, 2005) provided by our book partner - the company liters.

a story that really happened

The story of this “story that actually happened” began long before it was born. Her midwife turned out to be another story - what happened with my play “A Woman’s House”.

I wrote the play “A Woman’s House” in the summer of 1982 in Koktebel, living there in writers' house creativity, which owes its location, as well as its territory, to Maximilian Voloshin. By the spirit of this wonderful poet Silver Age and his comrades, some of whom used to live in his hospitable house for almost months, everything was drunk there, and, probably, this spirit invisibly hovering over those places tempted me to leave the manuscript of the story I began in Moscow lying in my suitcase and instead , to go on a familiar journey through the mastered territory of prose, to set foot on the previously unknown land of drama. The inhabitants of the Silver Age loved the unknown; untrodden paths were much more attractive to them than the well-trodden paths of a regular park.

I went to the local village store, bought two 48-page school notebooks there, and set off on a journey through terra incognita. Both then and now I write prose on separate sheets of paper, and it doesn’t work out any other way, but the play immediately asked me for other conditions for its emergence. These conditions turned out to be much more favorable than those that prose demanded for itself. Instead of a desk, across the entire spacious field of which there should be complex pattern to lie the pages already written, the pages to come, and in the middle of them is the page that is being written, two chairs turned out to be quite enough for me: one to sit on, and the other to rest my feet on; the notebook, in turn, with the text of the play appearing in it, was quite content with my lap. Most importantly, the lack of need for a table turned me into a free person - I could write, sitting on the veranda of my room, without going into the room for hours, I could write, taking the chairs off the veranda and placing them directly on the ground under the flowering jasmine bushes, I could, finally, writing on the beach, for which there was no need even for chairs - an ordinary lattice lounger was enough. On the day of my arrival, I began the play, on the day when the travel package expired and I had to board the train in the evening, in other words, twenty-four days later, the play was finished.

Its fate, when upon my return to Moscow it was reprinted and took on the appearance of a typescript, promised to be delightfully happy. The very first theater I took it to snatched the play from my hands and accepted it for production. And it was none other than the Maly Theater. The author entered into an agreement, received an advance, met with the director, discussed with him the nuances of the future production, met with the artist and discussed a mock-up of the stage setting made out of cardboard.

Alas! Roses are beautiful, and their aroma is wonderful, but for some reason they were given to this magnificent flower thorns. Who now remembers the resolution of the CPSU Central Committee regarding the Belarusian Opera and Ballet Theater? And theater experts will not remember right away. And I remember. Comrade led the country for a short time. Andropov, what is remembered by most people, is that he ordered daytime drive people from the street to work, and I also remember that by this decision he did not allow “A Woman’s House” to be staged at the Maly Theater. You never know what was discussed there Belarusian Theater, and even opera and ballet. The heads of all other theaters understood: what is said about one applies to all others. And about the Belarusian Opera and Ballet Theater it was said that they should strengthen their ideology, choose large themes in tune with the era, and so on and so forth - either in the fall of 1982, or at the very beginning of 1983, whoever wants check the wording exactly, he can pick up the Pravda file and look. The “Woman’s House”, by its very name, stood across the main route outlined by the resolution of the Central Committee. The theater, which had been driving the horses, began to rein them in; the deceased Andropov was replaced by a new secretary general, Chernenko, whose era, it was clear to everyone, in general, you just had to sit out frozen, without exposing yourself to anything in any way - the horses were harnessed, no one was talking about I no longer even stuttered about staging the play based on “A Woman’s House.”

I realized that nothing was going to happen to me either at the Maly or at any other theater. And I felt sorry for burying my heroes (mostly heroines!) in the archive. Why did they have to die an inglorious death because of this stupid Decree? I decided to give them a chance to survive. So the play, which had previously only been known to my knees, ended up on my table and after some time, significantly longer than the month during which it was born in Koktebel, it turned into a story.

The story “A Woman’s House” appeared in the magazine “October” in the sixth, June issue of 1986. And after some time, I received a call from Mosfilm, from the creative association of Georgy Danelia: would you like, Mr. Writer, to sell us the rights to this “house” of yours, and we will make a film out of it. Like an awl stuck in a bag, the play, which I had hidden in a prose narrative, came out, and a professional eye, falling on this “awl,” immediately determined what it was and what its capabilities were.

Of course, I didn’t want to sell the rights, but to make the script myself, especially since there was no need to dramaturgically build the material, everything was practically ready, but cinema is its own world, strangers don’t go there, and I didn’t persist too much in this litigation: I'm not myself. Nevertheless, the story was not originally born with prosaic features at all, and I really wanted to see it in the form in which it was originally conceived, albeit somewhat modified.

In 1989, based on the story “A Woman’s House,” the film “Adam’s Rib” was released.

And in the same year creative association“Rhythm” by Georgy Daniliya, even if not considering the author of “A Woman’s House” to be completely one of its own, but still not completely considered a stranger, invited me to take part in a closed competition for a script for a comedy film, which the association held together with the Central Screenwriting Studio the then State Committee for Cinematography of the USSR. Oh, the magic of cinema! It was not enough for the hermit crab to emerge from his solitary abode into the theatrical whirlpool; he wanted to dive headlong into the whirlpool, which is murkier than any theatrical one.

In general, the author accepted the offer, wrote an application, concluded an agreement, received an advance, and then began writing the script itself. It was not difficult for him to do this. Firstly, he again composed not at the table, but on his knee, although no longer in Koktebel. And secondly, and this is the main thing, he had been hanging out in notebook among other plots there was one with which he did not know what to do. Somehow this plot did not fit into the author’s own ideas about himself. The author did not know which side to grab it from. What shape should I give it? The offer to write a script immediately gave this plot shape. The author took him by the sides, and to mutual pleasure they waltzed with the plot from episode to episode, from scene to scene - and so on until the very end. By the deadline set by the studio, the script called “The Ryaba Hen” was ready and, with four copies, it was delivered where it should be.

All this, to a certain extent, is a preface to the story that happened to “history that really happened.” Actually, the history of “history” begins from this place.

I don’t know what was the reason for this, most likely time, which was changing the landscape of life literally before our eyes, but the competition was strange. Not only were some “experts” reading the scripts in addition to the jury members, but in general the circle of people who had access to the scripts turned out to be unusually wide. I remember the competition was still going on, and they already called me from Minsk, from Belarusfilm, asking if I would give the script to them. I couldn’t give it away, I was not the owner of the script, I was only the author, and the owner was Mosfilm, represented by the Daneliev association.

However, apparently, the association was increasingly losing all interest in the competition. The changing landscape of life forced the association to change its plans. The results of the competition, the terms of which were initially extended and extended, were never summed up; and with the end Soviet Union it became finally clear: new life- new songs.

But to me, as in the case with " Grandma's house“, I didn’t want to part with my “Chicken”. Actually, since the new songs are so new, I would have parted ways, but I was shocked to see that my allegorical prediction made in the script was coming true in life. And I again found myself at the table with my dramatic plot.

Over time prose text“The Ryaba Hen, or the Golden Sign” already existed in typewritten form, and I took it to the magazine where I usually published in those years and which even announced the publication in advance.

He announced it, but when the editors read “The Hen,” they refused to publish it. The “Sign” turned out to be out of tune with the times. No, censorship has already been abolished, censorship had nothing to do with it. A new life was marching across Russian soil with leaps and bounds, a beautiful, bright future lay ahead, promising heavenly places, and the “sign,” to put it mildly, did not correspond to this opinion. And another “democratic” magazine refused to publish it, and a third. I began to look for an opportunity to transfer the manuscript to the legendary Volodya Maksimov, for his “Continent”, however, during these “searches” it turned out that he was suspending the publication of the magazine and further fate"Continent" is still unknown. I was already beginning to think that my “Chicken” was going to find peace in my archive among the manuscripts.

And at this time, Ekaterina Samsonova-Breitbart, Maksimov’s sister, appeared in Moscow. But not as a sister, but as Chief Editor"Fringes", published in Frankfurt am Main by the well-known People's Labor Union. Today I gave her the typescript, a day later we were already talking about the practical side of the matter. The question of publication rested only on size. “Grani” could afford to print only five author’s sheets, while “Kurochka” had about ten.

Nevertheless, I accepted this condition. Cutting is not writing, but most importantly, new Russia I had nowhere to print it! In No. 170 of “Fringes” for 1993, trimmed down almost to the size of the script, “Chicken” revealed itself to the world.

She revealed herself to the world, and I, as was already the case with “The Woman’s House,” considered the story of “The Hen” to be exhausted. It was impossible to even dream of publishing her book: the publishing industry was in ruins, almost no domestic books were published.

And in 1994, a film was released on Russian screens with the same title that my script had at the time - “The Ryaba Hen”. But I had nothing to do with the film. Scenario filmed written by a completely different person, the author of quite a few scripts for comedy films, the only thing we had in common was that both I and he wore a beard, and besides, both my and his beards had already turned quite gray by that time. I don’t feel it is possible for me to make any accusatory assumptions. You never know that some of the plot moves coincide. And there’s nothing to say about the title: both my book and that film have a far from original title. True, that’s the point...

Well, then it so happened that I forgot about this text of mine. I don’t know about other writers, but in those years I was with my people: when I went to bed, I didn’t know what I would eat tomorrow. (It was then that I understood the etymology of the word “breakfast”: “Will we have a table tomorrow?” - the head of the family racked his brains as he went to bed in the hungry years). It was necessary to survive - and I survived. Then the time came great novel, in which I drowned for several years, emerged - and dived into a new one. No, once or twice a year I, of course, thought about “The Hen”, I thought I should re-read it, maybe refresh something, but when you sit with your hands and feet busy with a lot of work, you don’t have enough strength for anything else. .

So my “Chicken” lay in my archive: the application for the script, the script itself, the prose text, the shortened version - a whole mountain of folders. But you forgot - others remember. “But you had such a thing in “Grani” ... - the publisher reminded me, and then there was just a window in the work, and I went to look for folders with this thing, and found it, and re-read it.

I re-read it and was amazed. I thought something needed to be redone, refreshed, corrected, but it turns out not! Not a word, not a word - nothing! Everything that was written then seems to be about the present day. No changes. One to one. Or did I really turn out to be a seer?

Of course, it's sad if that's the case. In fact, I'd rather be wrong.

But be that as it may, here it is, this “Rock Hen”, in its true, original form. Which one was conceived twenty years ago, which one was written fifteen years ago. My publisher, having read that old corrected typescript retrieved from the archive and sending it for scanning to prepare for typesetting, confirmed: as if it had just been written, everything is one to one.

I think the publisher would also prefer to be wrong. It's a shame not. But the author, as a writer, cannot at the same time hide his authorial pride.

Anatoly Kurchatkin

Do you want to surprise your friends? Invite them to read Russian folk tale about the chicken Ryaba. If your friends are not experts in folklore, the effect is guaranteed. This is the form in which the famous fairy tale collector Alexander Nikolaevich Afanasyev found and wrote down this difficult story:

Hen

Once upon a time there lived an old man and an old woman, they had a Tatar hen, she laid an egg in the closet under the window: motley, colorful, boney, tricky! I put it on the shelf; The mouse walked, shook its tail, the shelf fell, and the egg broke. The old man is crying, the old woman is sobbing, the stove is on fire, the top of the hut is shaking, the girl-granddaughter hanged herself out of grief. Mallow comes and asks: Why are they crying so much? The old people began to retell: “How can we not cry? We have a Tatar hen that laid an egg in the hut under the window: motley, colorful, boney, tricky! I put it on the shelf; The mouse walked, shook its tail, the shelf fell, and the egg broke! I, an old man, am crying, the old woman is sobbing, the stove is on fire, the top of the hut is shaking, the girl-granddaughter hanged herself out of grief.” As soon as the breadmaker heard it, she broke all the bread and threw it away. The sexton comes up and asks the breadmaker: why did she throw away the bread?

She told him all the grief; the sexton ran to the bell tower and broke all the bells. The priest comes and asks the sexton: why did you break the bells? The sexton recounted all the grief to the priest, and the priest ran and tore up all the books.

Wow, a fairy tale! Maybe there is another option? Eat! Here he is:

Chicken (tale version 2):

Like our grandmother's in the backyard
There was a grouse hen
The chicken planted an egg,
From shelf to shelf,
In an aspen hollow,
In a little room under a bench.
The mouse ran
She returned it with her tail -
I broke my testicle!
Grandfather began to cry about this testicle,

Baba sobs, bursts out laughing,
Chickens fly, gates creak;
Sor lit a cigarette under the threshold,

The priest's daughters walked with water,
The tub was broken,
Popadya said:
“You don’t know anything, mother!
After all, in grandma's backyard
There was a grouse hen;
The chicken planted an egg,
From shelf to shelf,
In an aspen hollow,
In a little room under a bench.
The mouse ran
She returned it with her tail -
I broke my testicle!
The system began to cry about this testicle,
Baba sobbed and burst into laughter.
Chickens fly, gates creak,
Sor lit a cigarette under the threshold,
The doors began to shake, the glass crumbled;
We walked with water and broke the tub!”
The priest kneaded the kneading -
I scattered all the dough on the floor;
I went to church and said to my priest:
"You do not know anything...
After all, in grandma's backyard

(The same story is repeated again.)

Tyn crumbled;
Our daughters walked with water -
The tub was broken, they told me;
I kneaded the dough -
I scattered all the dough!”
The priest began to tear the book -
Scattered it all over the floor!

Well, how? Does this sound like a story you know from childhood? But Afanasyev has no other options, and his collection is considered the most full meeting fairy tales

What kind of text do we read to kids called “Ryaba Hen”?

This is an adapted version. It was written by a wonderful teacher and talented writer Konstantin Dmitrievich Ushinsky. He already knew how not to scare, but to interest and, at the same time, raise a child. In our audio collection of fairy tales “Ryaba Hen” the fairy tale sounds precisely in his adaptation. And she is accompanied by folk melodies played on real ringing harps, children's jokes, pesters, and songs. The kids will love it!