Evgeny Kogan. Chechen claustrophobia

Some time ago, President Putin noted that he sees nothing wrong in the revival of the so-called cultural state order. And he especially spoke about “the revival of the so-called state order for the creation of works of unconditional social value.” These words fit into the general state idea of ​​cultivating patriotism among citizens of the Russian Federation. And since the country is in a permanent state of war, there is no better topic for a government order.

This is worth talking about on the eve of Defender of the Fatherland Day. Moreover, long before the presidential words, Russian film directors began to address the controversial topic of the Chechen war.

First steps

Back in 1996, Sergei Bodrov Sr. directed the film “ Prisoner of the Caucasus ” - a modern interpretation of Leo Tolstoy’s novel, written a hundred years ago. “When we came up with this film, there was no war in Chechnya yet,” the director said, “and when we started filming, we hoped that it would end soon...” The war did not end, rather, on the contrary. And “Prisoner of the Caucasus” unwittingly gave this war an artistic status. There was no image of an enemy in that film yet - “Prisoner of the Caucasus” was known as an intelligent attempt to comprehend a strange, unusual interethnic conflict. “What to do when crazy life catches up with your plan?” Bodrov asked rhetorically. “Who will believe that you wanted to tell a story a hundred years ago?”

Next was the half-forgotten and underrated “Purgatory” - the directorial debut of the famous television journalist Alexander Nevzorov and, it seems, the first film producing experience of Boris Berezovsky. "Purgatory" - a realistic and bloody, almost documentary reconstruction of the battles for the Grozny hospital building in January 1995 - turned out to be the first film on the Chechen theme that tried to be more or less objective. Nevzorov’s main mistake, oddly enough, was that he included his name in the credits. The presence among the film's authors of an odious journalist with a too pronounced political orientation in space had its effect - the film was discussed not as an independent artistic act, but as a political statement. And they recalled the accusations that rained down on Nevzorov after his “Vilnius” reports - let me remind you that Nevzorov was accused of passing off staged footage as newsreel. Meanwhile, “Purgatory” should have been assessed solely as an act of artistic creativity - by the way, more than worthy. But the importance of “Purgatory” is not in this, but in the fact that it turned out to be the first film that provoked a discussion in society, and not only about the legality of showing violence on the screen, but also about the Chechen war as a subject for that same artistic creativity.

“ Checkpost ” by Alexander Rogozhkin, a brilliant chamber war drama that somehow appeared and disappeared unnoticed by the audience, without having a wide release, became the first peacekeeping act and, undoubtedly, an important milestone in the short history of “Chechen” Russian cinema. To understand it, I think it’s worth a little distraction from the topic and trace the path Rogozhkin took to this film.

Necessary Retreat

Rogozhkin directed his debut feature film about front-line correspondents, “For the Sake of a Few Lines,” in 1985. And four years later he directed “The Guard,” which made people talk about the director as an independent filmmaker. In this uncompromising black-and-white drama about hazing in the army, Rogozhkin outlined what can now be considered his directorial style. Namely, he built a closed space on the screen where he locked the claustrophobic characters. Willingly or unwittingly, this closed space that does not let outside became Rogozhkin’s signature stylistic device. And the thirst for violence that devours a person from the inside became the subject of research for the director, including in his next significant film - “Chekist”. Filmed in 1991, it seemed to predict great bloodshed in the future; the concentration of cruelty in it was extreme. And Rogozhkin again locked the heroes within four walls and dispassionately watched what was happening.

Two years later, in the film adaptation of Erofeev’s story “Life with an Idiot,” Rogozhkin brought human ugliness to the point of absurdity and caricature. At the same time, the atmosphere of his film, already without an excess of oxygen, turned out to be completely discharged. It became difficult for Rogozhkin’s characters to breathe, and the need arose to break out of the notorious four walls. And two years later, “Peculiarities of the National Hunt” burst out - the first truly folk comedy since the time of Gaidai. But in this film and in subsequent sequels, Rogozhkin’s heroes who escaped to freedom did not receive real freedom. Instead of tangible stone walls, their little world was surrounded by intangible walls - those same red flags from the old political joke, as if encircling the country-zone and determining human behavior.

It took three years for the next “serious” project to appear. “Blockpost” is the first appeal by a Russian director to the topic of “hot spots”, which at that time were still just smoldering along the perimeter of no longer Soviet Russia. And again - violence, devouring from the inside, again - the executioner and the victim, changing roles, again - claustrophobia, fear of a closed space and an unsuccessful attempt to break out of artificially delineated boundaries. In an intimate setting, the director clearly manipulates human characters and destinies, and clearly understands the psychology of the characters. It’s as if he is experiencing what is happening with them. And he professionally avoids dangerous accusations that the topic is opportunistic - a “hot spot” and young guys thrown to the slaughter by dirty politicians. Even the omnipresent Buldakov, who appears briefly in his usual role of a general, does not irritate, but looks like a natural continuation of the absurdity of what is happening...

If you want peace, prepare for “War”

In his “Checkpost,” it so happened that Rogozhkin, wittingly or unwittingly, dotted all the i’s, defining the Chechen theme as claustrophobia that infected Russian directors. Those who in subsequent years will be attracted and, at the same time, frightened by the smoldering Chechnya.

Then two directors offered their artistic statements to the audience - Andrei Konchalovsky and Alexey Balabanov. It so happened that their films, released one after another, unwittingly entered into an argument with each other.

Konchalovsky's " House of Fools " is a film in connection with which they began to talk about the revival of interest in Russian cinema in the West: Venice prizes are not given out just like that. But it is worth noting that Konchalovsky, it seems, made the film with an eye on the Western viewer, collecting on the screen all the myths of the new history of the Russian state... At the very beginning, a title appears on the screen, indicating that the film is based on real events - so The audience's trust in what is happening on the screen is earned. And let the residents of the prosperous West insist that they are aware of the events happening on the territory of Russia - neither the “right” who justify the counter-terrorist operation in Chechnya, nor the “left” who oppose the Chechen war, nor human rights activists who saw specially built for them in the Northern Potemkin villages in the Caucasus actually know nothing. That’s why they take Konchalovsky’s picture at face value. Although the division into “good” and “bad”, as is known, exists only in fairy tales for family viewing. In the true story on which the film is based, as in real life, everything is, as they say, tougher.

film Balabanov's " War " turned out to be "harsher". The St. Petersburg director, author of "Brothers", repeatedly accused of inciting ethnic hatred, a man with glasses and long hair who shuns parties, unexpectedly made a deception film. Everyone who wanted to see bad Chechens and a good Russian guy fighting bandits in this picture saw it. And Balabanov did not protest (he rarely protests at all, but in almost all interviews he insists that there is no ideology in his paintings). But only a few saw in “War” an accurate indication of the real enemy - the state machine, crushing both the Chechen separatists and the heroic Russian troops. The portrait hanging above the desk of one of the officials testifies to the direction of the film more clearly and frankly than a hundred bad Chechens dying under the bullets of a brave Russian soldier. However, Balabanov, who in all his films (with the exception, perhaps, of only the early aesthetic “Happy Days” and “The Castle”) plays not with ideology, but with people’s ideas about it, so veiled his statement that, unfortunately, it Many didn’t get it. Or it was perverted. As a result, "War" has arguably become one of the most underrated Russian films of its time. But it undoubtedly left its bloody mark on the Chechen topic under discussion.

Briefly...

There are three more films directly related to the Chechen war. But there is no need to discuss them seriously, although for various reasons. "Thrown March" by Nikolai Istanbul is an attempt to make a simple and understandable, correctly ideologically consistent genre film, an action film, based on painful material. The attempt is, rather, a failure, if only because to create jingoistic films you must first wash off the blood and comprehend the problem itself. Next is “Caucasian Roulette,” staged by debutant director Fyodor Popov based on the play by Viktor Merezhko. There's another problem here. Undecided on his own opinion, in an attempt to please everyone, and thereby present a so-called “objective” picture, Popov simply got confused in the generally interesting material of a chamber drama about the confrontation between two mothers, whose sons were taken away by the war. However, "Caucasian Roulette" fulfilled its mission. The director brought the Chechen theme in cinema to another level. He asked questions to which there are no clear answers. I tried not to agitate, but to comprehend the tragedy. Thanks for trying. Finally, “March of the Slavic Woman” by Natalya Pyankova is not discussed simply because the picture has not reached (and apparently will not reach) the viewer. In any case, in the near future.

Well, I don’t want to say a lot of words about TV series that in one way or another touch on Chechen issues. In addition to the notorious state order (and most likely without it), these very serial films, unevenly filmed and acted, try, by saber-rattling, to instill patriotism. And there's nothing wrong with that. It’s just that the time for patriotism has not yet come, it seems. Chechen claustrophobia seems to be incurable.

As a current announcement: at the very end of February, the Rossiya TV channel will premiere the film “I Have the Honor,” based on Andrei Konstantinov’s book “Rota” and telling about the Russian military in Chechnya. The topic remains open.