Das Thema

Visually and dramatically this is the dullest film I have seen in quite some time. As a typical example, one scene in a dining room, which runs over thirty minutes, consists of exactly three shots: one medium close-up of our lead character, one medium close up of the female he is infatuated with, and, I kid you not, over 15 minutes of footage from a camera placed ACROSS THE ROOM featuring one character with her back to us and another occasionally blocked from view. The majority of the film is in medium to long shot with (yeah, I'm still not kidding) endless voice-overs from the lead character describing his self-loathing and the pointlessness of existence. As you might guess pacing is not considered a major part of the cinematic art by Panfilov and Co. but if a somber, reverent study of self-pity (er, the sufferings of the artist) set against a frozen landscape (oh, the symbolism!) is your cup of borscht, hey ... (actually I wouldn't wright anything at all about this movie but I consider it my public service for the month to warn whatever other foreign film adventurers that might stumble upon this iceberg).

"Yesenin" (Mikhail Ulyanov) has been a successful writer in years gone by but is now in something of a black fog. It's not that he doesn't think he's a great writer, it's that he thinks he's lost it and that nobody will ever care. To try and kick start his creative juices, he sets off with fellow scribbler "Paschin" (Evgeniy Vesnik) and enthusiastic assistant "Maria" (Yevgeniya Nechayeva) to the snowy town of Vladimir. It's his arrival that symbolises his approach to life as he tells his pal to make an illegal turn off the street. This attracts the attentions of a local, impressionable, police officer (Sergey Nikonenko) whom he tries to charm then intimidate into not giving them a ticket. This meeting rather sums up the man's impotence, even though the decent young man is a fan of his works. A visit to the local museum proceeds to make matters even worse for a time as he encounters "Sasha" (Inna Churikova), a curator in the place who has also read his works but has long since consigned them to the bin of inconsequence as she has grown older and wiser. Despite her politely veiled criticism of his works, he is taken by both her and he intellect. It's the latter that might just offer him a solution to his creative constipation...? It starts off quite promisingly this, with a bit of spatting amidst plenty of snow an a little Schubert, but quickly that rather static and distant style of direction and photography starts to effectively freeze us out of their characterisations. There are far too many lingering shots, way too much "insightful" narration and though I did think there was a bit of chemistry between Ulyanov and Vesnik on occasion, there wasn't really between him and Churikova and the rapport with Nechayeva was borderline "Carry On" at times. Perhaps it was supposed to be a test of patience? It does allow us into his mind and that's not the most organised of places to live, but it still needed more focus for the viewer and less angst-ridden diatribe. It was banned in the Soviet Union for a time, but given the plentiful supplies of food and drink available in this wintery wonderland I'd have thought it exactly the symbol of success they'd have wanted to export.

Of the few Russian movies I have had the pleasure of seeing, this is the record-holder. I saw it more than ten times, partly to learn the language, but I remember being quite thrilled with it back in 1990. I like the gloomy mood and the artless artful cinematography.

"The Theme" is a film that had to stay on the shelf for almost ten years because of its "theme". Mikhail Ulyanov plays Kim Yesenin, a disillusioned and cynical playwright who uses the system by writing the conformist plays and enjoys the benefits of being the officially recognized and appointed "great Soviet writer" but who in reality has been used by a system and spent all the talent he ever had in writing the plays that had no artistic value whatsoever. Bitter irony lies in the name of the character: Sergei Yesenin was a real life enormously talented, widely popular and beloved Russian poet who committed suicide at the age of 30 in 1925 because he could not fit in the Soviet Russia. Kim Yesenin in the movie suffers the writing block and arrives to the small provincial town with a friend and a young mistress in search of inspiration. He meets an attractive, intelligent and well educated museum guide named Sasha (Inna Churikova never looked so beautiful and sophisticated and I finally understood why Panfilov always had been fascinated by her face, never conventionally pretty) who used to be a big fan of his earlier works but has a lot of unflattering things to say about his officially praised outings. Sasha is in love with a talented historian who had made a very difficult and life changing decision to emigrate from the Soviet Union. He had lost his job by becoming a dissident and had to work as a gravedigger to support himself while waiting for permission to leave the country. Those who never had to emigrate from their country knowing that they might leave forever and never be allowed to go back to see their loved ones and the places dear to their heart again would not fully understand why Panfilov's film had to stay on the shelf for almost ten year after it was completed. It was released only during the "perestroika" in 1987 and I saw it then. I respect Panfilov for his siding with the real artists rejected by the system but his film is not only a courageous statement against the conformity suffocating cultural life under the Brezhnev regime which would be later called "period zastoya" or "stagnation", it is a memorable work of cinema with very good performances from his muse, Inna Churikova, Mikhail Ulyanov, and supporting cast.

Banned for several years after being completed in 1979, this is one of the truly great Soviet films that was released during the perestroika policy. A Chekhovian tale of playwright's incompetence and lack of inspiration is mixed very skilfully with critical social comments. The movie resembles the ones of Ingmar Bergman, even though it's not as painstakingly open as the Swedish director's. Panfilov uses very long shots which don't actually resemble Tarkovsky's shots, because the mystical symbolism is completely missing. Panfilov also uses the stereotypical expression of Russian hospitality to a good comical effect. Vodka is being consumed all through the film.