In
1942, Marc Chagall became one of the last Jewish refugees ferried to safety by
Varian Frye’s clandestine network. However, to survive National Socialism
Chagall would first have to survive Soviet Communism. Initially, the
post-revolutionary days were a time of opportunity for artists (and Russian
Jews had little reason to mourn the Romanovs), but Chagall was never very
astute when it came to the macro political forces in play, unlike his rival
Kazimir Malevich. Eventually, this will become a problem for him and his
beloved wife Bella in Aleksandr Mitta’s Chagall-Malevich
(trailer
here),
which opens this Friday in New York.
Chagall’s
Left Bank friends and colleagues all recognized the Russian expat’s talent, but
they were a bit puzzled by his unwavering fidelity to his fiancée, Bella
Rosenfeld. With his star ascending, Chagall made what he intended to be a brief
trip home to Vitebsk, where he would marry Rosenfeld and whisk her back to
Paris. The outbreak of WWI scuttled those plans, but at least the wedding still
happens, much to the distress of Naum, a rival suitor with socialist sympathies.
Instead of Rosenfeld, he will embrace the revolution, returning to Vitebsk as
its political commissar.
Despite
his resentment, Naum humors Chagall, building his state-sanctioned art school.
Thanks to Chagall’s reputation, the Vitebsk academy quickly draws scores of
eager students. Space in Chagall’s classes is eagerly sought after, but the rest
of the faculty is dismissed as rather sorry substitutes, until the arrival of
Malevich. Both politically and artistically ambitious, Malevich champions Suprematism
as the quintessentially Soviet art movement. Although the bold colors and
geometric shapes impress the school’s mediocre rank-and-file, Malevich still
has trouble managing Naum and the local Party apparatus, despite his political acumen.
In
all honesty, the events in Vitebsk did not precisely unfold in this fashion,
but Mitta’s film is true in spirit. Although C-M is somewhat adapted from Chagall’s memoirs, it is really more
of an adaptation of his paintings (140 of which are incorporated into the
film). In many ways it is a throwback fabulist fable or a cinematic exploration
of folklore and historical mythology, sort of like Alexey Fedorchenko’s Angels of Revolution and Celestial Wives of the Meadow Mari, but
with a stronger narrative drive.
C-M deliberately
attempts to render Chagall canvases on the big screen, striving but falling
short of a look reminiscent of What Dreams
May Come. In fact, the first half of the film suffers from an over reliance
on whimsy, but the energy level kicks up appreciably when Malevich finally
blows into town. Mitta along with Leonid Bichevin and Anatoliy Beliy, as
Chagall and Malevich respectively, capture the intriguing ambiguities to their
evolving rivalry. After all, Chagall recruited Malevich for the sake of
stylistic diversity and intercedes with Naum on the Suprematist’s behalf at a
critical juncture. Yet, Malevich had a far greater understanding of their new
masters. (In subsequent real life, Malevich even anticipated he would fall out
of favor with Stalin and accordingly took steps to protect his work for
posterity.)
When not playing off Beliy, Bichevin’s
Chagall is basically an exuberant shaggy dog. In contrast, Beliy always conveys
a sense of the wheels moving within Malevich’s head. Kristina Scheidermann is a
good likeness of Rosenfeld and brings a refreshingly dry wit to the otherwise
loyal and sacrificing wife. Yakov Levda and Nona Buylgina are also quite
compelling as Chagall’s ardent followers, even if their subplots remain
half-baked.
