This evening I saw a pretty amazing film at the Warsaw DOCs against Gravity festival -- a documentary by a Finnish filmmaker about Alexander Sokurov.
You may know Sokurov from his most famous film in the U.S., the 96-minute 2002 film about Russian history filmed in one take at the Hermitage Museum.
But Sokurov is much more than that -- a lyrical and contemplative filmmaker, intensely humanistic, whose early films were shelved but who "came out" in the period of perestroika with many wonderful fictional and documentary films and who has been producing films regularly ever since. I think I may only have seen Russian Ark and Mother and Son, but I now have a list a mile long of films I want to see, including a very early one subtitled "peasant elegy" about a Russian woman named Maria.
Currently Sokurov (according to filmmaker Leena Kilpeläinen) is persona non grata in his homeland and is working in France, completing a new film about World War II, in fact about the lead up to WWII. Apparently the French began to empty the Louvre starting in 1935 in anticipation of the onset of war. (Leena filmed Sokurov saying something like: really? that long before the war began and rather than somehow preventing it, people were focused on saving national treasures?)
Sokurov himself is a national treasure -- but is today's Russia interested in that, or are they focused on war?
The documentary was fascinating: featuring Sokurov's voice only, the film took us through his career: through his life in Russia starting as a child of a military officer; through his studies at the best Soviet film school, VGiK in Moscow, where his "graduation" film was censored because it was based on the work of a forbidden writer, Andrei Platonov; through perestroika, when suddenly his films hit the screens, along with many other shelved masterpieces from earlier times; through his dismissal (after 33 years) from Lenfilm.
In the discussion after the screening, an audience member expressed concern about the serious nature of the film. "Life is not only depressing," she argued. "There are good things: nature, children, family. Why did you only show the evil side of life in this film?" The director assured us that in her entire time of working with Sokurov, more than 7 days of filming what came to over 100 pages of written dialogue, he only smiled twice.
"I included both those smiles in the film," she asserted.
In fact, I found the film oddly uplifting and quite Chekhovian. Not only did Sokurov make a film in which Chekhov came back to life (Stone, from 1992 -- a film I will need to see!), he expressed a sentiment that echoed Chekhov. True, he said, things are not good now. But in two generations a different Russia will emerge -- we don't yet know what kind, but perhaps a better, more humane country filled with human beings who respect and value each other.
Wouldn't that be nice?
 |
| Sokurov during filming of "Voice of Sokurov" Photo credit: Christine Kalshnikova |
But Sokurov is much more than that -- a lyrical and contemplative filmmaker, intensely humanistic, whose early films were shelved but who "came out" in the period of perestroika with many wonderful fictional and documentary films and who has been producing films regularly ever since. I think I may only have seen Russian Ark and Mother and Son, but I now have a list a mile long of films I want to see, including a very early one subtitled "peasant elegy" about a Russian woman named Maria.
Currently Sokurov (according to filmmaker Leena Kilpeläinen) is persona non grata in his homeland and is working in France, completing a new film about World War II, in fact about the lead up to WWII. Apparently the French began to empty the Louvre starting in 1935 in anticipation of the onset of war. (Leena filmed Sokurov saying something like: really? that long before the war began and rather than somehow preventing it, people were focused on saving national treasures?)
Sokurov himself is a national treasure -- but is today's Russia interested in that, or are they focused on war?
The documentary was fascinating: featuring Sokurov's voice only, the film took us through his career: through his life in Russia starting as a child of a military officer; through his studies at the best Soviet film school, VGiK in Moscow, where his "graduation" film was censored because it was based on the work of a forbidden writer, Andrei Platonov; through perestroika, when suddenly his films hit the screens, along with many other shelved masterpieces from earlier times; through his dismissal (after 33 years) from Lenfilm.
 |
| Photo credit: Christine Kalshnikova |
"I included both those smiles in the film," she asserted.
In fact, I found the film oddly uplifting and quite Chekhovian. Not only did Sokurov make a film in which Chekhov came back to life (Stone, from 1992 -- a film I will need to see!), he expressed a sentiment that echoed Chekhov. True, he said, things are not good now. But in two generations a different Russia will emerge -- we don't yet know what kind, but perhaps a better, more humane country filled with human beings who respect and value each other.
Wouldn't that be nice?
Comments
Post a Comment