Rrrrecent Rrrrussian Cinnamon

“The paradox of these children’s lives is that while some of their futures are dependent on the rapacious capitalism embodied by Madam, they survive as a collective, as a shadow of the Soviet past.” –Manhola Dargis, The New York Times 

I think that, as this statement suggests, this film is a one of contradictions. It expresses, for instance, extremes of the highest hopes and joys and the lowest lows — intense sadness and pain, made all the worse for the fact that these feelings are experienced by children. There are others: The film’s plot itself is an update on the classic orphan-finds-parent theme, a “dark fairy tale” with a modern twist meant to frame the work as “a microcosm of contemporary Russia” (Dargis). 

The thing that struck me about Mars was just how contemporary it really seemed. It was almost as if this film was a conscious choice on the part of the director to take Russian cinema in a new direction – a more positive one, perhaps? From the film’s opening credits, which reek of sleek Hollywood production techniques, to its bright, eye-catching color palette, Mars was the first of the films that we’ve seen so far in which the American influence is evident to the point of being a major characteristic.

Unfortunately, I think that in trying to make a film that speaks for all of Russian cinema, the director ultimately bites off more than he can chew. For a film with such a brilliant premise, though at times the director achieves hints of greatness, all in all it’s simply overdone. Rather than relying on what is an interesting, if formulaic, story, and focusing on character development, the director attempts to win viewers with flashy editing and mixed images that only serve to confuse the tone of the film.

This film was hard to watch. If only the director had calmed his hand a bit, trying only to make a film that speaks true in itself as opposed to speaking for all of the artists of a nation, Mars could have been great. As it stands, it is simply an overworked piece of tripe with little to offer the viewer.

The director is working with some obvious themes in “The Cuckoo,” including ideas about isolation, the power of language, and the concept of nationalism. The film also has some elements of classic war picture – the two men are citizens of warring nations; they come into conflict and then find understanding.

In terms of the way the film communicates its ideas, I question the degree of success it attains. In the words of Dave Kehr, who wrote a review of the film for the New York Times, “The Cuckoo” produces the usual brotherhood-of-man, war-is-hell bromides, but it is far more interesting in the details of its execution than its abstract message mongering.” While the film reaches for some universal idea, I think that it ultimately fails as a result of its shaky tone. Its as if the film can’t decide what it wants to be: love story, slapstick comedy, war film (with elements of camaraderie between people of different cultures), survival story, or melodrama?

Where the film does succeed is in character development. From its opening scenes, which feature short soliloquies that speak to each character’s personal and figurative isolation, the film portrays the psychological complexities of each character based on his or her situation. I found the character of Ivan to be especially complex. (It is a Russian film, after all.) His cynical worldview and his romantic failures are manifest in his artist-pathos, poetic mumblings about the strain of the war on his soul.

As for the resolution of the film, I found it to be rather cliché. Not only was the scene on the mountain a bit of a tired metaphor for the afterlife, but also the element of the twins was just disappointingly overdone. The last ten minutes really threw me off. They seem really out of place considering the tone of the rest of the film.

Finally, I’d just like to add this piece of information that I found on Wikipedia. From http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Common_Cuckoo: “In Russia, there’s a popular belief that a cuckoo can predict how many more years a person will live. If a person hears a cuckoo in the woods, he or she usually asks, ‘Cuckoo, cuckoo, how long will I live?’ It is believe that a person will live as many years as a cuckoo cuckooed.” This is obviously important to the film, and I’d like to consider this idea more in the future.

From the New York Times review of Land of the Deaf (under the title Strana Gluchich): “The film can be interpreted as an allegory of life in the ex-Soviet republics after the fall of the Soviet Union.” More on this later… 

I just re-watched the film, and I came up with some important points to use in my paper. Essentially, I’d like to explore the questions that the film raises about fatherhood and family in post-Stalin Russia. These are some of the issues I will raise:  

- Katja gives birth alone on the side of the road. This is an important image signifying her literal and metaphorical isolation from any sort of father figure. 

- Sanya’s father fantasy early in the film is significant. Though he’s never met his father, that scene signifies the point in the film where the boy really becomes aware of his situation. It can also be seen as a greater metaphor for the entire country, for the impact that the war has had on the Russian father’s ability to support his family. 

- In the end, the central family breaks down. Katja struggles, but cannot keep it together. There is too much social and economic pressure on the family. 

- Sanya ends up alone, in an orphanage. The progression of the film’s plot suggests the transition that has taken place in Soviet life: Sanya’s only family, in the end, is the state. 

- Eventually, he joins the army. He becomes a cog in the wheel of the Russian state.  

So, I don’t really understand the whole blog thing, but I guess, as they say, I’ll give it the old college try. One question I do have: How do I link my blog to the Recent Russian Cinema main blog page? Grh, so confused!