Russian Film Week ’10: Burnt By the Sun 2: Imminence

Col. Sergei Petrovich Kotov ought to be dead. We were told he was about to be executed as part of Stalin’s purge at the end of Mikhalkov’s Burnt by the Sun. The Communist dictator assumed as much himself, which is why he is so out of sorts to discover Kotov yet lives in Mikhalkov’s Burnt by the Sun 2: Imminence (trailer here), the second film of his projected trilogy, which screened during the 2010 Russian Film Week in New York.

One typically miserable day in the gulag, Kotov is dismayed to discover his Article 58 political conviction has been reclassified to a pedestrian criminal charge. Moments later, the political inmates are summarily executed and the remaining prisoners are evacuated. The Germans have attacked, offering Kotov an opportunity for salvation. Before you can say “Great Patriotic War” he has enlisted in a special penal company, tenaciously fighting on the frontline as a lowly private.

Of course, that cuts no ice with Stalin. When he purges someone, it is meant to be permanent. With a war raging, he summons NKVD Colonel Mitya Arsentyev to track him down and finish the job, setting in motion the Communist version of Saving Private Ryan. It is an assignment that hits close to home for Arsentyev, given his long history with Kotov. Estranged comrades, Arsentyev married Kotov’s wife and adopted his daughter after arresting the war hero on Stalin’s orders. However, Kotov is the only father Nadya Kotova will ever acknowledge. In true Zhivagan fashion, they will both brave the horrors of war in hopes of reuniting.

It is hard to know where to start with Imminence, perhaps because there is so much of it: nearly three hours plus a teaser of the next installment to come. It certainly captures the spirit of the age, boldly portraying Stalin not just as an autocrat, but a legitimate psychopath. Yet, Mikhalkov’s well known status as Russia’s more-or-less film czar and notorious FOP (friend of Putin) adds a layer of irony to his blistering critique of Stalinism. After all, who would he consider the film’s closest analog to Russia’s current thug-in-chief (and former KGB officer).

Burnt 2 is at its best when depicting the chaos and degradation of war, unnecessarily aggravated by Stalin’s policies. Ironically, Mikhalkov’s carte blanche did not always serve the best interests of the film. Case in point, the over-orchestrated score veers close to parody. Still, there are times when Mikhalkov goes for broke and pulls it off, as when a dying priest baptizes Kotova while they cling to an exploded mine bobbing in open water.

In truth, Mikhalkov’s lead performance as the disillusioned Kotov is quite good, but casting himself as a Russian paragon of fatherhood and fatherland gives his critics something else to key-in on. However, his supporting cast is a more mixed bag. Subtle and thoughtful, Oleg Menshikov is fantastic as the former White partisan turned Red enforcer. Sergey Garmash also shines (far too briefly) as the compassionate priest, Aleksandr. However, many of the assorted prisoners and military characters are portrayed with a distracting theatricality.

Regardless of Mikhalkov’s vociferous critics and his rather unsettling Slavic nationalism, Burnt 2 is a big film by nearly any measure, well worth seeing. It is hard not to get caught up in this sort of sweeping historical epic, with its liberal helpings of melodrama. His critique of the Stalinist era is also quite trenchant, which why it is so frustrating he is unable to apply the same rigorous standards to the Putin regime. Indeed, it was definitely the most talked about selection of Russian Film Week, which concludes tonight (12/9) in New York.

Russian Film Week ’10: Man By the Window

A wise man once said: “you can observe a lot just be watching.” One Russian actor understands where Yogi was coming from. Day after day, he stands at the window, imagining the lives of those he watches, with surprising accuracy. His strange power of empathy indirectly mixes him up with some dodgy business in Dmitry Meskhiev’s Man By the Window, which screens during the tenth annual Russian Film Week in New York, in advance of its Russian opening.

Shura Dronov is a small actor, both on life’s stage and in St. Petersburg’s grand repertory theater. He suspects his wife is having an affair with his frienemy, the star of the dramatic company, but he is not sure whether he cares. One night, a minor auto accident serves as an unlikely ice-breaker with the attractive young Sonya. She even seems to appreciate his sympathetic powers of perception.

Of course, she has a boyfriend. A shady pseudo-oligarch, "Stas" is instinctively jealous of Shura, but he has need of an actor. Soon, Dronov is making serious money impersonating cops, lawyers, and government officials to help out Stas’ cronies. Yet, despite her lover’s threats, he is falling hard for the younger woman, even while his feelings for his own wife remain unresolved. Involved in two love triangles and multiple cases of fraud, Dronov suddenly is not such a boring guy anymore.

Indeed, Window could be considered an ode to the character actor. Yuriy Stoyanov gives a full-bodied, nuanced performance as Dronov. Funny and sad, he even plays a mean Spanish guitar. He takes Dronov through quite a dramatic character arc, yet he keeps it all credible and grounded. Likewise, Kristina Kuzmina nicely conveys the ambiguities of their possible mutual attraction. Perhaps the greatest surprise though is the depth and maturity Maria Zvonareva brings to the film as Dronov’s wife, in what could have easily been sloughed off as a henpecking caricature.

Window is the sort of bittersweet crowd pleaser Miramax used to regularly breakout during their heyday. Sharply written, but with a deeply compassionate perspective on humanity, it is one of the highlights of this year’s Russian Film Week. Window screens again today at the Millennium Theater in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn.

Russian Film Week ’10: Golden Mean

Evidently, Russia has not been immune to the influence of The Da Vinci Code. The good news is the Russian riff on Dan Brown’s ancient conspiracies and mysterious artifacts is considerably better than Ron Howard’s movies. Boasting the production values of major Hollywood tent-poles, Sergey Debizhev’s action and intrigue driven The Golden Mean (trailer here) screens tonight as part of the 2010 Russian Film Week in New York.

Despite Mean’s title and Da Vinci inspired graphics, Leonardo does not factor into this grand cabal. Somehow though, it involves our protagonist’s swashbuckling grandfather. A dissolute hedonist, Aleksandr has been a stranger to heroism all his life. However, the discovery of an old magazine photo of his grandfather breaking the bank at a Cambodian casino three years after his presumed disappearance in the war understandable intrigues the young reprobate.

As it turns out, granddad was not just a daring pilot and gambler. He held many secrets, including his true identity as a former aristocrat and White partisan during the 1917 revolution. Stealing away to his beloved France, the mysterious patriarch became involved with a powerful and shadowy secret society that seeks to re-establish global equilibrium by finding and restoring eight missing religious relics to their proper shrines. Acquiescing to the will of Monsieur Perot, the only slightly ominous leader of the more-or-less cult, the Russian playboy sets out to finish what his grandfather started, perhaps finding enlightenment in the process.

Though not recommended for epileptics, the visual approach of Debizhev and cinematographer Anton Drozdov throws in everything but the kitchen sink, employing jumps cuts, wipes and washes, and dozens of other stylized effects. Particularly cool are the flashback scenes of the grandfather shot in a style that deliberately evokes 1940’s black-and-white serials. While there is plenty of action, Debishev is clearly just as interested in the inner workings of his grand historical-metaphysical scheme. However, the final fifteen minutes or so make absolutely no sense whatsoever.

Resembling a young Rutger Hauer, Alexey Serebryakov is a convincing square-jawed anti-hero turned hero. Unfortunately, his primary love interest is a rather underwhelming personality and is not even that alluring by big budget movie standards. Yet, the film’s perception of Asian women (or at least that of its male characters) is even more problematic in a clichéd and dismissive way.

With its elements of Eastern spiritualism, Mean is ultimately far more appealing than Brown and Howard’s unrestrained Catholic bashing. Indeed, it displays an ecumenical respect for faith in general and an earnest desire to dazzle. The forthright depiction of Stalin’s thuggish political officers during World War II adds an intriguing dimension, as well. While it might crater at the end, nearly every genre film does. Executed with vigor, it is certainly a memorable film, but tonight (12/5) could well be New York audience’s only chance to Mean for the foreseeable future when it screens at the Millennium Theater in Brighton Beach, Brooklyn