TV Series: “The King and the Jester” / “Korol i Shut”

I don’t think I’ve written long, thoughtful posts about TV series before. But it’s been months now, and I’m still under the impression of this one—so that must be a sign: I need to speak up.

The story of the band Korol i Shut (The King and the Jester) officially begins in 1988 in the city of Leningrad (now Saint Petersburg) when three classmates—Mikhail “Gorshok” Gorshenev (“Gorshok” in Russian means “pot”), Alexander “Poruchik” Shchigolev (“Poruchik” means “lieutenant”), and Alexander “Balu” Balunov—decided to form a band, initially naming it Kontora (it can be translated as The Office but mostly refers to KGB, I think). However, in 1989, Gorshok met Andrey “Knyaz” Knyazev (“Knyaz” is “Duke”) at a restoration school where they later interned together. They became friends, and Gorshok was deeply impressed by Knyaz’s drawings and lyrics in the style of dark fairy tales. This led to Knyaz joining the band, which a year later adopted its final name, Korol i Shut (The King and the Jester). Knyaz’s depiction of a jester became the band’s iconic emblem, and over the years, the jester in the logo began to resemble Gorshok more and more.

I’m not an expert in music genres, but the band’s work has been described as horror punk, folk punk, and rock. I discovered them around 1998, when their music video Yeli Myaso Muzhiki (Men Were Eating Meat) started airing on various music TV channels. It was a blend of horror, dark humor, and memorable punk rock riffs:

The band also drew attention thanks to the flamboyant and memorable image of one of its leaders, Gorshok. He sported wild hairstyles and wasn’t shy about showing off his mouth, missing half of his teeth.

A couple of years later, already married, I became more interested in the band’s work and started buying all their albums. I wouldn’t say I was a die-hard fan, but I still recall many of their songs fondly. I didn’t closely follow what was happening with the members, but on July 19, 2013, Mikhail Gorshenev was found dead in his suburban home. The cause was tragically simple and horrifying—a heart failure due to alcohol and drug abuse. He was only 19 days shy of his 40th birthday. This news was widely discussed in the music world, as was the subsequent breakup of the band, which had already been struggling with internal conflicts. Balu left the group and moved to the United States. Knyaz also departed and formed his own band, Knyaz, where he performed both new songs and older ones he had written for Korol i Shut. Other former band members renamed themselves Severny Flot (Northern Fleet) after Gorshok’s death, and they still perform today.

Then, suddenly, 10 years after Gorshok’s death, the series Korol i Shut was released. Even before the premiere, I came across highly polarized opinions about it. On one hand, former members of the band, including Knyaz, were involved in the production. On the other hand, die-hard fans (like one of my acquaintances) declared it to be complete nonsense, with no connection to the real history of the band. This acquaintance had attended their semi-underground concerts back in the ’90s. However, the trailers were intriguing, and I was pleasantly surprised by the choice of actor to play Gorshok:

On the left are the real Gorshok and Knyaz, and on the right are their on-screen counterparts. Konstantin Plotnikov, who played Gorshok, not only managed to closely resemble the original in appearance but also nailed the voice. Vlad Konoplev, who portrayed Knyaz, also did a great job, though his Knyaz came out a bit different.

The series is built around two storylines. The first recounts the history of the band, starting at the point when Korol i Shut was already at the peak of its fame. However, Gorshok is plagued by thoughts of mortality and suicide. This is presented in an intriguing way—his inner struggle is shown through an evil Jester, visible only to him, who constantly urges Gorshok to “go out in style” at the height of his fame rather than waiting for the glory to fade and for old age to consume him. The Jester also occasionally turns Gorshok against his friends but sometimes helps him overcome the most challenging moments in his life. Why he does this is another question entirely. The series frequently jumps in time—from the past to the present to the last years of the band’s existence.

The second storyline runs parallel to the first. In it, Gorshok and Knyaz are medieval minstrels in a fictional fairy-tale kingdom. Each episode features a short mini-story about this imaginary world, with every such segment based on one of the band’s famous songs. After all, almost every song by Korol i Shut is a mini-fairy tale—dark, sometimes horrifying, but a fairy tale nonetheless. I believe these are the kind of tales Pierrot and the Brothers Grimm originally told, not the sanitized modern adaptations for children.

There’s not much to say about this fairy-tale storyline except that in one episode, the real Knyaz makes a cameo as a local duke (remember, that ‘knyaz’ in Russian means ‘duke’, ‘prince’), and in the episode inspired by the song Forester (Lesnik), they humorously and endearingly played on the forester’s repeated refrain. They even created an excellent music video for the same song using clips from these segments:

Speaking of the songs, the entire soundtrack was overseen by Alexey Gorshenev, the younger brother of Mikhail “Gorshok” Gorshenev and the leader of the band Kukryniksy. Naturally, a series about a musical group couldn’t go without featuring their songs. For the series, nearly all of Korol i Shut’s songs were re-recorded. They were performed by the band Severny Flot (formed by former members of Korol i Shut after the group disbanded), with Andrey Knyazev (now performing with his own band, Knyaz) re-recording his parts. Gorshok’s voice was restored using neural networks, although in a few covers, Alexey Gorshenev sang for his brother. I’m not sure if these recordings were included directly in the series or only in the separately released soundtrack.

Returning to the plot—it is primarily a story about the band’s history. While die-hard fans curse the series, I enjoyed it. I’ve read the band’s history as recounted by Balu, and the series overall stays fairly close to reality. That said, there are some discrepancies or, in my opinion, less appropriate embellishments and episodes.

For instance, in the series, Gorshok’s first wife, Anfisa, is portrayed very negatively and sometimes overly vulgar. According to the band members’ accounts, Gorshok did lead a destructive lifestyle with her: sex, alcohol, and hard drugs. At some point, it seems friends even initiated their breakup. However, Balu’s book doesn’t portray Anfisa in an entirely negative light. He even says many kind things about her, while acknowledging that she dragged Gorshok toward his demise. In the series, however, she’s presented as an entirely negative character. Interestingly, the real Anfisa passed away four years before Gorshok, at just 31 years old.

There are minor discrepancies in other events too, not just in Gorshok’s story (for example, the tale of how he lost his teeth is amusing in the series but more mundane in Balu’s book) but also in Knyaz’s. Nevertheless, the band’s story is depicted well and engagingly overall.

I’d like to highlight two specific portrayals.

The first, of course, is Gorshok, played by the aforementioned Konstantin Plotnikov. Konstantin portrayed him brilliantly—not just mimicking his mannerisms or playing a caricatured “wild punk.” The series includes plenty of serious scenes where Gorshok struggles with his drug addiction, argues with his friends, and wrestles with his personality and friendships. The final episode before his death, where he sends all his relatives away from the dacha, sensing his end is near, gave me chills and brought me to tears. I didn’t know this actor before the series, but Konstantin truly managed to capture the complexity and depth of this character.

The second remarkable portrayal, however, is not of the band’s co-leader, Knyaz—though Vlad Konoplev played him well. Special praise goes to the actor who played the tempter Jester. Beneath a heavy layer of makeup, it’s impossible to recognize Evgeniy Tkachuk:

On the left, he is in the role of the Jester; on the right, as Mishka Yaponchik from the series The Life and Adventures of Mishka Yaponchik. Even under such heavy makeup and clownish antics, he managed to portray Gorshok’s dark side—not just as a grotesque jester (pardon the pun), but as a reflection of both his worst traits and his thoughts about the eternal.

In summary: I really enjoyed the series. The fairy-tale storyline feels somewhat shoehorned in to showcase mini-music videos based on the band’s famous songs. But otherwise, it’s an engaging and self-contained story, even if you’ve never been a fan of the band or know nothing about their music. It’s the story of a punk who lived carefree, joyfully, and… briefly.

As I mentioned, former members of the band, including those who once had falling-outs with Gorshok and left the group, were involved in the production. Yet, throughout the series, there is a palpable sense of tender love and friendly support for Gorshok, the central figure of the story. Despite all the ups and downs, his friends continue to love him, and that is far more important than strictly adhering to every factual detail of the band’s history. For me, the series became not just an interesting narrative but also a tribute to a departed friend, one whose flaws and past grievances were forgiven. And that kind of sentiment is invaluable in real life.

My rating: 4/5