Translated material
“Let it be good good...”
The Kinotavr festival opened for the 19th time
On the opening day of the Kinotavr festival in Sochi, the sun was shining, nothing interfered with the passage of celebrities along the star path, and the resort guests who had gathered in advance could greet everyone they know and love to their hearts’ content. For example, Gosha Kutsenko, who, it seemed to me, became the absolute leader in signing autographs.The opening ceremony, as usual, consisted of a compulsory and free program. The obligatory ones include the presentation of the jury and competition films, congratulations from President Dmitry Medvedev, a list of sponsors, and finally the code phrase uttered by Alexander Rodnyansky: “The festival is open.” (It was somewhat surprising that neither the governor of the Krasnodar Territory, nor the mayor of Sochi, nor the Ministry of Culture of the Russian Federation indicated their presence.) In the free program - interludes dedicated to the centenary of Russian cinema, designed to demonstrate the affinity of Soviet classics for modern youth, musical screensavers by the now fashionable Pyotr Nalich, and most importantly, the presentation of the honorary prize “For Contribution to Cinematography” to Alexey German.
The appearance of the classic of Russian cinema on stage was preceded by Alexander Filippenko, who read Prévert’s poem about a bird against the background of frames from German films, and Alexey Petrenko came out to present the prize. The audience greeted Herman standing, and the obstinate director, thanking his wife Svetlana Karmalita, his deceased cameramen, his beloved actors and the public, said that they had already tried to give him the prize twice, but he refused. The third time it worked. German, according to the rating of critics compiled specifically for Kinotavr, turned out to be the best director living in Russia - he has 87 votes, and Mikhalkov, who follows him, has 63. Only Andrei Tarkovsky was ahead of them - 127 votes, but he is already beyond competition, he is in history.
After the break, the first film of the competition was presented to the public - “Live and Remember” by Alexander Proshkin. Of the rather diverse assortment of the current Kinotavr, this film most of all corresponds to the common idea of cinema for the festival: a serious theme, high-quality image, good actors. In distribution, which will begin on June 26 with 10-15 copies, this film is unlikely to reap any special laurels; it is too old-fashioned for international festivals, but just right for the opening of a domestic film festival. Moreover, today in certain circles the topic of the tragedy of the people, the death of the Russian village, and the loss of moral values is again in demand. The story of a deserter soldier who secretly returned to his native village and revealed himself only to his wife was written by Valentin Rasputin in the 70s, during the heyday of the so-called village prose, which brought not only new plots to literature, but also a new degree of documentary. The film, despite all the efforts of its authors to be authentic and accurate, instead of the documentary style that is relevant today, demonstrates rather a monumental style, reminiscent of the cinema of the seventies - with its meaningful metaphors, pathetic elation and unambiguous decisions.
Alexander Proshkin slightly changed the emphasis in Rasputin’s story, making Nastena not just the main character, but also a symbol of the Russia that we have lost: patient, devoted, loving and sacrificial. Despite the fact that Daria Moroz played her heroine wonderfully, cameramen Gennady and Alexander Karyuk shot the Siberian landscapes very beautifully, and the plot is tied to tragic hopelessness, for some reason the film does not touch you emotionally. It turned out to be too “artistic” - every frame is perfectly constructed, expressive and meaningful, but you sympathize with poor Nastya in an absolutely speculative way. The carefully stylized life of the village seems a little deliberate, and although Sergei Makovetsky, who transformed into an old man with photographic authenticity, and the very accurate Evgenia Glushenko in the role of the mother-in-law, and the colorful Anna Mikhalkova, seem to authentically reproduce the intonations and plasticity of the Siberian peasants, and the relationships between them built unobtrusively, but masterfully, and yet does not leave a feeling of some theatricality, the artificiality of everything that is happening. In addition, the visuals are heavily overloaded with additional meanings. And Nastya is a symbol, and the wolf that strayed to Andrei’s winter hut is a symbol, and Andrei’s murder of a calf in front of a cow is a completely symbolic symbol... At Nastya’s funeral, the women call her an angel and add that they know who should burn in the inferno , but then, they ask themselves, where are they? And in the last scene of the film, which is not in the story, when twenty-five years later, against the backdrop of a destroyed village, with collapsed roofs and broken windows, we see its only inhabitant, Andrei Guskov, somehow surviving and completely dehumanized, everyday truth recedes altogether: we are shown what remains, what has survived, what is still glimmering on the ruins of traditional values, and this remains, alas, is not at all the best part of the life that once existed. The position of director Proshkin is quite understandable, but it’s still a pity for the human, concrete, living content of the story.
The festival audience had very different attitudes towards the film. From complete, indignant rejection to completely favorable approval. However, to some, even the completely chaste and conventional depiction of village life that Proshkin allowed himself seemed like rampant physiology, rudeness and denigration of the heroes.
In general, the difference in perception, as well as in tastes and preferences in our society, even in its individual cinematic segment, is so great that it seems that it is no longer possible to achieve any common opinion. In these conditions, holding a festival is an almost impossible task. However, Kinotavr is trying, and life is in full swing.
Here is an approximate schedule for one day - yesterday. Viewings of non-competition programs begin at 10 a.m. At half past ten they call for the presentation of the Locarno festival. At 12 - a press conference at which a Kiev journalist accused director Proshkin of lacking love for the Russian people. At two o'clock there will be a presentation of the new project "Short Circuit" - six short stories shot by young and fashionable directors - Buslov, Vyrypaev, Serebrennikov, Khlebnikov, and the younger ones German and Khrzhanovsky. At half past three - the project of debutant Klim Shipenko “Unforgiven”, judging by the video, a genre film with ideas. At three o'clock the “Short Film” program begins, where numerous young filmmakers flock, sincerely hoping to come next year with a full film, as happened with three newcomers from last year’s competition. The first short film was Diana Mkrtchyan’s “Gata”, which took part in the Cannes competition, an almost documentary sketch about refugees from Baku living in Moscow with their past alone. Then - Natalya Uglitskaya's funny comedy "Tag", from which it is clear that the author has a rare and very popular gift today - making films funny. Then three more paintings, but I don’t have time to see them anymore.
In the evening there will be two competitive screenings. The chamber “Four Ages of Love” by Sergei Mokritsky and the thriller “New Earth” by Alexander Melnik. Both directors are debutants, although each has quite a solid cinematic career behind them.
At this time, hundreds of citizens gather on the square to watch “Assu,” the famous film by Sergei Solovyov, and at midnight on the beach the group “Leningrad” and “Bickford Cord” will present a new project - “Assu 2.”
Of all the abundance of events, I would like to dwell in a little more detail on the film from the “Cinema We Didn’t Notice” program. This time, Alexander Shpagin, its constant curator, proposed a truly unexpected option: the film “The Tale of the Brave Khochbar” was shot in 1987 at Lenfilm according to the script of Alexei German and Svetlana Karmalita, German is also listed as the artistic director of the production.
To the enthusiasts gathered for the early morning screening, Alexey German told the story of this painting. She and Karmalita wrote the script, inspired by a poem by Rasul Gamzatov, with whom they were friends at the time, and the film was to be directed by the Avar Askhab Abakarov, whom German described as a very gifted person. In general, they worked together on the preparatory period, choosing actors, and Abakarov meticulously searched for the exact types, for example, he rejected one candidate Herman really liked for the main role because he had a “Georgian butt.” Herman’s backside seemed quite normal, but a specialist, of course, knew better. Unfortunately, Abakarov, barely starting filming, died in a car accident. And then Herman tried to continue the film himself, but was unable to work in the mountains due to heart disease. The film was completed by Mikhail Ordovsky, a good director, but, as German said, unfortunately, he was Russian, that is, he did not understand anything about Avar customs, and therefore German quickly lost interest in the film.
However, the resulting picture turned out to be very interesting. Imagine Herman’s style during “Twenty Days Without War” or even “Lapshin”. But the texture is the mountaineers of Dagestan around the seventeenth century. Villages, clothes, weapons, battles, beards, hats... The plot is not so important, the theme is important - and Gamzatov’s poems, turned by the scriptwriters into a toast that the main character says every time before the road: “Let it be good, let it be bad to all the bad..." is still dear to screenwriters. And most importantly, the Caucasus has never been filmed like this, as if it were not a historical drama, but a modern, half-documentary film... It seems that if we were just a little lucky, the film would have been made as planned, would have become widely known, and it would If everyone had watched everything, then maybe we wouldn’t have had a Chechen war? Still, cinema is a terrible force.