Vladimir Rakhmanin
Staff Writer
When you think of Russian art, what comes to mind? Perhaps it’s literature, perhaps it’s ballet. Or maybe it’s painting; canvases that have come from the great empire house the most diverse styles, from the strict adherence to form of Russian Orthodox icons to the rebellious rule-breaking of Malevich’s geometric suprematism. Unfortunately, most people aren’t that familiar with cinematic works that come from Russia – and it is a shame, as there are true masterpieces waiting to be seen and appreciated. With the Dublin City Festival of Russian Culture 2012 coming to last Sunday, I decided to write a short primer on Russian cinema, with a brief description of three personal favourites. What makes watching Russian films even easier is that a lot of them have recently been made open-source, i.e. put on YouTube legally and for free, providing that you bring your own subtitles. Hopefully, this will encourage some of you to explore a little deeper into this wonderfully diverse world of art, mostly unseen by the West.
Броненосец «Потёмкин» (Battleship Potemkin)
You may not agree with the propaganda message of Battleship Potemkin, but you can in no way deny its power. As one of the earliest classics of cinema (the film was made in 1925), Potemkin completely revolutionised the way films were shot. Sergei Eisenstein (director) used his theories on montage to emotionally affect the audience, something that had never been done before, and what has since become an industry standard for everyone around the world. An interesting technique is used during a scene when a red flag is hoisted up on to the battleship itself. Because the colour was so important to symbolising the success of communism during that scene, Eisenstein had the physical film painted by hand frame by frame. I can imagine the surprise of the contemporary audience when they saw colour in a black and white film; the effect could be compared to our first experiences with 3D.
The story itself is based on a real event – a mutiny that occurred on a Tsarist battleship in 1905, an event that strongly contributed to the revolutionary mood of the Russian people. Surprisingly enough, the most powerful moment in the film doesn’t occur during the mutiny scenes – it occurs when the people on land begin to rebel. The Odessa Steps sequence is one of the most genuinely emotional scenes ever filmed. Ever. The cross cuts between the deaths of the protesters and the mercilessly marching soldiers are very moving, and if you don’t feel a surge of panic when the baby’s carriage falls down the steps, you have a heart of stone.
Бриллиантовая рука (The Diamond Arm)
Not up for something as angry as Potemkin? Then try Leonid Gaidai’s classic comedies. I can understand why these films would not have made their way over to the West – the jokes all revolve around the use of language in bizarre and unexpected ways, which is extremely difficult to translate. Nevertheless, Gaidai’s extremely intelligent use of various types of comedy remains appealing, even if the subtleties of some of the humour are not fully communicated.
Out of all of Gaidai’s films, The Diamond Arm has the most intricate plot, which revolves around Semyon Semyonovich, an ordinary man, who becomes embroiled in a smuggling conspiracy. After being mistaken for one of the members of a criminal organization while on holiday abroad, Semyon has a fake cast put on his arm – filled with, you guessed it, diamonds to smuggle back into Russia. What follows is a hilarious sequence of events with two members of the gang, led by the mysterious ‘Chief’ (or ‘Boss’) attempting to reclaim their stolen jewellery.
Situational comedy hits its peak here – one particular scene in the restaurant is beautifully orchestrated, with a seriously catchy musical number that is known by pretty much every single member of the Russian population. When I say that, I mean it – this comedy is regarded very highly in Russia, and pretty much every single line is quotable. “Semyon Semyonovich” has become a term used for someone who is clumsy, or incapable of carrying out a complicated task. The film really has burrowed its way into Russian culture, and stayed there.
While I cannot guarantee that non-native speakers will get as much laughs out of this film, I would definitely attempt to watch at least one of Gaidai’s works to get a taste of eccentric Russian comedy. If, however, you do speak Russian, and have somehow not seen this film, then please do. You owe that much to yourself.
Андрей Рублёв (Andrei Rublev)
You might have heard of Andrei Tarkovsky from a friend, who would tell you that his version of the sci-fi classic Solaris Is a masterpiece, and is light years better than the Hollywood adaptation. Or perhaps you’ve read about Stalker in an article by a film critic, who would tell you that this apocalyptic arthouse film is one of the world’s best. Both of them are correct – both Solaris and Stalker are great films, but one of Tarkovsky’s films that is sometimes neglected by the West, Andrei Rublev, is a masterpiece, and is one of the greatest films of all time.
Shot in stunning black-and-white, with the use of widescreen, Tarkovsky’s vision of medieval Russia is an absolute joy to watch. Continuous shots, which take the hands of a genius to pull off, are peppered throughout the film. Dramatic close-ups really show the emotion of the characters involved, with the contrast between blacks and whites giving the faces stunning detail. The film is loosely based on the life of a Russian icon painter – that is the plot, but the images and themes that surround it are so incredibly deep that it gives the fairly simple story a profound, almost Biblical nature.
The final segment of the film, which concerns the forging of a bell by some workers under the command of a teenage boy, who claims to know the secret to such work, is one of the greatest scenes in cinema. I will not spoil the ending, but this is an intense examination of faith, and what it means to believe. Once again, the gorgeous images will stick with you long after the film is finished.
All great films are about communicating a feeling – Lawrence of Arabia, 2001: A Space Odyssey, Apocalypse Now, even the recent Tree of Life – all of these examples have an atmosphere, something that can only be expressed through the medium of cinema. Andrei Rublev completely surrenders itself to emotion, and it is this deeply human sentiment that makes the film truly monumental.
