The Savage Hunt of King Stakh, on OVID.tv

Marsh Firs is sort of like a Belarusian Baskerville Manor. About 200 years ago, Nadzieja Janowska’s ancestor killed the so-called King Stakh, a powerful, but ironically reformist landowner. Ever since then, King Stakh has cursed the Janowska family line, somehow causing a steady stream of unnatural deaths and haunting the grounds with his spectral hunting party. A modern thinking folklorist like Bielarecki does not believe in ghosts, but he cannot deny something evil plagues the estate in Valeri Rubinchik’s restored The Savage Hunt of King Stakh, which premieres today on OVID.tv.

Marsh Firs has quite a history. In addition to King Stakh’s hunt, there is also the “Little Man,” whose appearance foretells death to those who see him, and the Woman in Blue, the ghost of a witch killed something like 800 years ago. Janowska believes in them all, but her estate manager Gacievic only gives credence to the wild hunt, but that is more than enough.

Janowska’s uncle and executor Dubotowk is less than thrilled she is hosting Bielarecki, after he took shelter there one proverbial dark and stormy night. Dubotowk’s ward Vardna is even less so. Perhaps not so coincidentally, they are also the ones who stand to inherit Marsh Firs should anything happen to her—and fatal misfortune has a habit of befalling the Janowskas.

Savage Hunt has been billed as folk horror, which is not unreasonable, since it revolves around a ghostly “wild hunt” motif. The look and atmosphere also harken back to the original Russian folky horror film, Viy. Yet, despite the dreamy tone, Rubinchik maintains a lot of ambiguity as to just how supernatural it really is. Regardless, he leans heavily into the gothic trappings.

Slamdance ’20: 1986

Thanks to Russia and Putin’s expansionist ambitions, this is an interesting year to be Belarusian. 1986 was also an interesting year to be Belarusian, thanks to the Soviets and the radiation wafting from their Chernobyl meltdown. As a Belarusian today, Elena doesn’t think she has much to lose, so instead of looking for opportunities in her own nation, she seeks them in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone. She might just find her destiny there, for better or worse, in Lothar Herzog’s 1986, which had its American premiere at this year’s Slamdance Film Festival.

These days, time spent in the Chernobyl Exclusion Zone is no longer necessarily fatal—just ask the wolves. However, you are still warned not to ingest anything originating there. Elena will do so anyway, because she is a millennial. However, she has a right to be bitter. Despite the phony Lukashenko propaganda her economics professor spouts in class, the economy is stagnant. Elena would like to pay-off her father’s tax-debt to get him out of jail, but $30,000 is a prohibitive sum to raise.

Her only chance is by taking over his former gig smuggling salvaged scrap metal out of the Exclusion Zone. Frankly, she rather likes it there, because she can visit her grandmother’s house. It also forces her to take a break from her unhealthy relationship with her unfaithful boyfriend Viktor.

The stakes are serious for Elena, but plot is not the film’s top priority. Rather, Herzog is more concerned with conveying a sense of place (that being the Exclusion Zone) and exploring the national Belarusian malaise. Although he wisely does not overplay the metaphor, we can pick up on Herzog’s analogy comparing the corruption permeating contemporary Belarusian society to the radiation that devastated Chernobyl.

Herzog and cinematographer Philipp Baben der Erde frame some vividly striking imagery. As a result, Elena’s trips into the Zone are often hypnotic, creating an almost immersive cinematic experience. This is one of the few examples of slow-ish cinema that might have gained something from 3D. Still, its ambiguous nature will certainly limit its popular audience.