Leviathan takes a long, immersive look at the machinations of corrupted power in the lives of the powerless, who desperately struggle to stay the course, hoping against hope to win a losing battle.
A man and his family face off against a politically backed fat cat who wishes to buy the piece of land upon which stands their house, willing to destroy their family nest to raise a modern building in its stead. The grandiose, solemn music of Philip Glass (Akhnaten; Act I Prelude) opens and ends the movie, flanking it like a sturdy front and back cover a fine book from a Russian master's pen. Other than that, the movie is rather stark, musically and otherwise. It is remarkable how effective silent scenes can be. With little music and less sound effects, the film has your undivided attention, reaching emotional heights towards the end. The lack of a musical backdrop further enhances the gritty realism that imbues all the 140 minutes. Relationships between the characters evolve and change significantly over the span of the movie, and though the patterns are somewhat familiar, interpersonal developments are portrayed with commendable subtlety and brilliance. There is a lot of intelligence to the storytelling; much can be understood without words. We embark on a chilling journey into the land and home of ordinary, simple folks, who are kicking and screaming for justice under the suffocating oppression of ruthless power, also blighted by their own frailty.
Leviathan is an outstanding work of art that manages to drive home universally relevant points with sparkling clarity in its refreshingly honest way. A highly recommended piece.
