Elena (Thursday, May 3, 2012) (44)

Andrei Zvyagintsev's Elena is a quiet psycho-sexual drama reminiscent of films by Hitchcock, Hawks and Wilder. That's a hell of a group to compare any contemporary work to, but this is no ordinary film. The story revolves around the title character Elena (Nadezhda Markina), a woman in her late-60s who works as the caretaker/housekeeper for Sergei (Aleksei Rozin) a millionaire in Moscow and is also married to him. She lives in separate, modest quarters from him in his modernist condo flat, wakes him in the morning, makes him food and sleeps with him when the mood is right (in the middle of the day).

She's from a poor suburb where her grown son and his family still live in a housing project. They are struggling to get by and rely on money she brings them when she visits them by train several times a month. Her son is unemployed and claims he can't get a job, but she believes he's not trying hard enough. She asks Sergei for help in getting a letter of reference for her grandson to go to university, thus avoiding military service, but the old man is not interested in helping her.

He doesn't see why he should help her family. She feels like he's being too rigid and points out that Sergei takes wonderful financial care of his own daughter, a twenty-something clubgirl who has never worked a day in her life. When Sergei says that he's going to change his will to leave her and her family out in the cold, Elena realizes she's running out of time and running out of options, and that she might have to murder him before he gets to talk to his lawyer.

The film is very serene and deliberate. Elena and Sergei, both older and in no particular rush in general speak to one another respectfully and carefully. The beautiful cinematography, by Mikhail Krichman, washes the interiors in a cool blue-gray that makes everything seem peaceful (if a bit morose). This is a psycho-drama in the grand tradition of the genre, with the action taking place much more in Elena's head than on screen in physical action.

On top of this, for the score, Zvyagintsev uses a Philip Glass's 1995 Symphony No. 3, a very typical minimalist work that is slow and easy. It's an interesting choice not only for tone, but because it, like most of Glass' music, is as much about the space between notes as it is about the sounds themselves. This creates a lovely parallel between Elena's anguish and the score.

The curious relationship between Elena and Sergei is unsettling and interesting. It is clear that they are married, however they share almost no bright, outward love together. They clearly care for one another, but she really does feel more like his nurse and housekeeper than his wife or lover. It seems in this new Russia -- where a man can be a millionaire and lives in a beautifully appointed building, whose wealth comes from some unknown, possibly unethical business -- people are separated from their natural state of family and love. Both characters seem to be stretching traditional family life to its extreme in this inhuman world. As much as this post-Communist world has freed people to do and think as they wish, something has been lost as people become isolated and relationships are formal and unfeeling.

There are not a lot of moving parts to this film. It is very efficient, though never seems rushed. It is sympathetic to both Elena and Sergei, even considering their opposite goals. Near the end of the film, we see Elena's newborn grandchild laying on its back in the middle of a bed. It looks helpless and isolated in a sea of bedspread. This baby is who everyone in this film is: somewhat immobile, unable to help himself, in a desperate struggle to make the next move.

Stars: 3.5 of 4

Hipsters (Thursday, February 16, 2012) (11)

Do you sometimes feel like there are too few musical-comedies in theaters? Do you wish they were more political and historical in content... but not about the French Revolution? Did the death of Josef Stalin make you want to get up and sing and dance? Well, if you answered yes to any of those then Valery Todorovsky's film Hipsters is the movie for you!

A brief note for the youngs: There was a time about 60 years ago when the term "hipsters" was used to describe people who saw themselves as separate from the rest of society, who looked down their noses at "normal" people (sometimes called "norms"), who distinguished themselves by listening to music you never heard of and had a sartorial style and hairstyles that norms might think of as embarrassing. No, they didn't live in Northern Brooklyn, but in Moscow in 1955.

Such is the setting for this story of rebellion and youth. As the film opens in Thaw-era Russia, there is a dance party where hipsters are listening to American rock, jazz and R&B music and another group of square kids, party members, comes in to break up the fete. The deputy of that group is Mels (Anton Shagin), who is a future leader, but also really interested in the style of the hipsters he's harassing. By chance he meets hot blond Polly (Oksana Akinshina) and falls in love with her. He then decides he will let his hair down (that is, put it up into a pompadour) and become a hipster to try to have a chance with Polly.

This is a very Jacques Demy-style musical, with big choreographed numbers that grow out of every-day life. We see factory workers dancing as they do their work and just about all the songs are about sex and kids being in love or being told to straighten up by their narrow-minded folks. Todorovsky does a wonderful job of using color (and hair) to highlight characters and actions so we can easily tell which side people are on and who is a friend (a bit like Quadrophenia as well, with the two waring sides of hipsters and norms rather than mods and rockers).

At times the subtext is a bit overdone, as we are beaten over the head with the concept that this American music is particularly black and that it is tantamount to sex (yeah - no, I get it - be-bop is like sex - the montage of dancing to the music and screwing is unnecessary). Still, this is a nice and fun film, generally well put together and rather clever about the intersection of these historical moments (the rise of rock music and the Thaw). The last number is a bit too much (a bit reminiscent of the "What the World Needs Now is Love" song at the end of Bob & Carol & Ted & Alice) with all the youth from all times singing together about peace and love, but it's musical-comedy, so it does tend toward overstatement.

Stars: 2.5 of 4

Khodorkovsky (Wednesday, December 21, 2011) (120)

Khodorkovsky is a documentary about the Russian oil oligarch Mikhail Khodorkovsky, formerly the richest man in Russia and one of the richest people on the planet. This shows his rise to billions, his run as an influential man in Russian and World politics and philanthropy and his ultimate fall, after crossing president/emperor Putin.

As with all oligarchs, he gained his wealth quickly as the former communist state sold off it's industries to a handful of individuals for little or no money. Khodorkovsky, a chemist working in oil extraction, got lucky and was given (well, basically given) the oil fields in Siberia. But things got tricky as he started to diverge from Putin and move to the left (or is it the right...? Russian politics baffle me). He was more interested in more government transparency and the progressive opposition. In 2003 his company, a main rival of the national gas service, was taken over by the government and he was jailed for tax evasion (probably a trumped-up charge). He's been in jail ever since.

The story is told mostly through television footage, interviews with Khodorkovsky's former colleagues and a series of stylized black-and-white animated segments (for the parts where there is no archival footage). I happen to dislike the look of the animation, it's all a bit too modern and stylistic for no reason. The third act of the film, where Khodorkovsky is in jail and interviewees are discussing his reason for not fleeing the country before he was arrested (which he could have done very easily), is a bit long and dull. I think at 111 minutes, the film is about 20 minutes too long and would have held together better if more was taken out.

There is a wonderful metaphor at the tail of the film of the suburban subdivision for billionaires outside of Moscow, where all of these heads of companies lived next to one another with gates around them and watch towers above safeguarding them - or imprisoning them. Nowadays many of the residents have been arrested for various political reasons, and the houses are largely vacant, aside from the servants who still live in them, keeping food in the fridges is if their bosses could return at any moment. There's a wonderful and evocative existentialist notion... I just think it takes too long to get there.

Stars: 2.5 of 4

The Sun (Sunday, November 22, 2009) (168)

The title of this film refers to the fact that in Japanese mythology, the Emperor is considered a descendant of the sun. In the years before World War II, this concept was taken literally - he was the sun and a god on earth. This film tells the story of Emperor Hirohito in the final days of the war as he comes to terms with his own mortality and the fact that he is not a deity on earth, but just a man like any other. The film is about his psychological journey moving from a position of extreme pride and confidence to a point of striking humility and humanity.

It is set after the atomic bombs of Hiroshima and Nagasaki were dropped, but before the terms of the surrender were finalized. He is living in a rural house with a bunker in the basement. His daily routine is rather mundane as he goes to meetings with his war council, does scientific experiments (which is apparently his passion) and speaks to his butler and other servants. They limit is contact to the outside world as a way of protecting him from the outside reality.

Interestingly, the film is directed by Russian Aleksandr Sokurov and not a Japanese filmmaker (he is also the director of photography). The style of the film is wonderful, beginning in the bunker, where there is a powerful sense of isolation and claustrophobia. As the emperor is slowly allowed to go above ground and ultimately outside, the atmosphere is misty and gray, not clear and beautiful. The physical power of the bunker and its formal heaviness is a very strong symbol for the Emperor's status. As his mental process proceeds, until he ultimately proclaims his non-God status, the architecture moves to a more standard wood, glass and light screens - a very beautiful approach.

It is hard to watch this film and not think of Oliver Hirschbiegel's recent Downfall, about Adolph Hitler in his bunker in the final days of the war. Aside from the fact that the atmosphere is very much alike, the psychological structure of the film is very similar as well. Both films show a once great men (at least great in power and status) dealing with his own flawed judgement and the fact that he lost on the biggest scale imaginable. Both men are surrounded by yes-men who continue to tell them what they want to hear (that they are in fact winning the war despite the reality outside of their bunkers) and hide important truths from them.

But another important corollary that I see is Robert Altman's Secret Honor (one of the smallest films of Altman's career and one of this most interesting), about Richard Nixon in his later years (in the 1980s) frantically and obsessively going over his history and shouting about how he is truly not a crook. Hirohito, in this film, sits in stark contrast to Nixon, as he is dignified and comes to his important conclusion without the histrionics and entirely on his own. He is the sanest man in the bunker (which Hitler might also be in Downfall), while Nixon is the craziest man his office. All three films deal beautifully with men working out and coming to terms with their legacy at the end of their runs. Hirohito easily is the most elegant with this struggle.

Issei Ogata plays Hirohito beautifully as a smart man with a child-like interest in the things that surround him and a loving normalness rarely seen in royalty (in film at any rate). He deserves acclaim and awards for this performance. (As I look at his recent film credits, I notice that at least two of them are also wonderful - Edward Yang's Yi Yi from 2000 and Jun Ichikawa's Tony Takitani from 2004, both of which were on my best of the respective year lists. Clearly Ogata knows how to pick his roles well and does magnificently well when he gets a part!)

The most glaring negative to this film are the fact that a few actors playing American military men are pretty bad. I think many of them are Russian actors with dubbed-in voices. However it is done, it's rather cringe-worthy when they're onscreen speaking.

This is a much more simple and approachable film that other recent works by Sukurov, namely Aleksandra and Russian Ark. Both of those films were visually stunning, but left me a bit cold with story and content. This film is visually interesting, but also fascinating as a narrative and a mental journey. It is certainly the best of the Sukurov films I've seen and is well worth watching.

Stars: 3.5 of 4