LEVIATHAN

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Cinema is rich in films that tell the story of simple men who dash themselves against the rocks of misfortune:  of impotence in the face of corrupt authority and arbitrary fate.  Good men are not rewarded:  justice is not done.  In general, I find such tales uncomfortable viewing.  In fact, I find them sadistic.  You take a good man and watch him suffer for two hours with the director casting himself as the uncaring and inscrutable God of the Book of Job.  So why is it that while I found the Coen Brothers' A SERIOUS MAN and INSIDE LLEWYN DAVIS unappealing I was bowled over by LEVIATHAN?  I suspect it's because there is no knowing, snide humour in LEVIATHAN, although it is sometimes funny in a low-key way.  Consequently, rather than being outside of the movie laughing at its central character's misfortune, we are inside the movie, sympathising with him. Or maybe it's because the subject matter is so much more urgent when situated within contemporary Russia, a totalitarian kleptocracy worthy of the movie's title.   At any rate, I am not alone.  LEVIATHAN has garnered critical acclaim and awards wherever it has been shown.  And in a brazen act of co-option is the official nomination of Russia for the Academy Awards.  It's featured in many a critic's Best of 2014 list and you'll be hearing more about it as awards season gathers pace.  All of this is justified.

London Film Fest 2011 Day 7 - ELENA

Russian auteur Andrewi Zvyagintsev (THE BANISHMENT, THE RETURN) has crafted a tense, deliciously minutely observed character drama in ELENA. It begins slowly with the quiet observation of a quietly luxurious but emotionally empty life. A sixty-ish neat woman, Elena (Nadezhda Markina) is more like a live-in maid to her rich husband Vladimir (Andrei Smirnov), although later we will see that there is real intimacy and sympathy between them. Still, for all that, Vladimir holds Elena at a distance, she isn't family in thee same way as his dissipated and angry daughter Katya - again a rounded character - she hates her father but they also share real sympathy. And if Elena comes second to Katya - as is made clear in the will he tells Elena he is about to sign - Vladimir has even less time for Elena's wastrel son and grandson, who live in a crummy Soviet era apartment, sponging off Elena for cash. With a few brief but effective scenes, we learn that Elena is a good woman, who cares deeply for her family, and completely believe in her desperate actions as the film reaches it's final third. 

ELENA is thus a psychological study of compelling credibility but also a fascinating look at the contrast between those who have made it in the new Russia and those still living in comparative poverty in the old Soviet structures. The implied social critique is that in a society of graft, success comes to those who play the game. Vladimir played it in his way and now Elena, her possibilities circumscribed by her age, gender and situation, must take her chances too. The power of the film comes from the superb central performances in combination with Mikhail Krichman's camerawork and Zvyagintsev's framing of the luxurious apartment and the claustrophobic Soviet block. This is also one of the rare occasions where I really responded to a Philip Glass, and didn't find it overwhelming.

ELENA played Cannes where Andrew Zvyagintsev won the Un Certain Regard Jury Prize. It also played Moscow, Toronto and London 2011. It was released in Russia last month and opens in France on March 7th 2012.