It
was produced in 1986, but this Soviet post-apocalyptic drama envisions a world
of widespread environmental devastation and a weak central government that
still tries to maintain its authority through brutal and arbitrary assertions
of power. In other words, nothing has changed for Soviets, except maybe for the
millions who died in the nuclear blast. Existence rather than life goes on for
a professor futilely searching for his missing son in Konstantin Lopushansky’s Dead Man’s Letters, which screens during
MoMA’s ambitious but oddly titled film series, Future Imperfect: The Uncanny in Science Fiction.
The
Professor is sort of like a post-apocalyptic Nicholas Sparks character. He
essentially narrates the film through ruminative letters ostensibly written to
his son Eric, even though he realizes it is highly unlikely they will ever be
read by the intended recipient. His wife sort of survived, but she is fast
succumbing to radiation sickness, dementia, and who knows what else. They have
found temporary refuge in a shelter below a Hermitage-like museum, which
explains the high quality of surrounding bric-a-brac and detritus.
In
flashbacks, we witness the impact at Soviet ground zero and watch the Professor’s
desperate search for Eric in various makeshift hospitals and morgues. Grotesque
yet visually arresting, these sepia-toned sequences have the look and feel
Hieronymous Bosch. They are some of the most effective passages of the film.
However, the high point is undeniably the eulogy the museum director gives to
mankind before committing suicide in despair. Rather than condemn man, he
praises our tragic outsized ambition and the capacity to love that produced so
much great art. Frankly, it is quite a refreshing sentiment, compared to the contemporary
eco/outbreak/zombie thrillers that argue humanity is fundamentally evil and
deserves to give way to snail darters and cockroaches (looking at you, Girl with All the Gifts).
Both
the style and subject matter of Letters largely
overwhelms the veteran cast. Nevertheless, as the Professor, Rolan Bykov still
manages to project dignity and a profound sense of loss. Physically, he
resembles Wojciech Pszoniak in Andrzej Wajda’s 1990 Korczak, especially when the Professor assumes guardianship of a
group of outcast children. Yet, it is Iosif Ryklin who truly defines and
redeems the film as the museum director (sometimes credited as “The Humanist”).
His farewell address is the sole identifiable element that qualifies Letters for MoMA’s Future Imperfect, a series that explores the ways science fiction
is uniquely qualified to determine what it means to be human, but it is more
than sufficient justification.
Letters’ unambiguous
religious symbolism might surprise many, given its Soviet origins. However, the
end titles make it clear the film was partly (if not largely) produced with the
Western nuclear freeze movement in mind. Clearly, the hope was if the gullible
West took a gander at the suffering wrought by nukes, they would force Reagan
administration to unilaterally halt the military build-up, cluelessly giving
the Soviets time to regroup and rebuild. We now know nobody was more concerned
about the potential destruction a nuclear war would cause than Ronald Reagan
himself, but he could see deception and manipulation for what it was.