Bratan

In BRATAN, Chudojnasarow shows an irresistible eye for landscapes, simplicity and the beauty of the ordinary. A film that after the fall of the Iron Curtain reminds of the marriage of train and film in Vertov's MAN WITH A MOVIE CAMERA made in post-revolutionary Russia. At the beginning, it calls to mind neorealism's quest to portray the socially and economically disadvantaged. But the film quickly slides into a compelling naturalism where the plot becomes secondary to the movement, to filming itself, to the journey of the brothers - the journey of the viewer. In the domestic scenes, there's that constant murmuring we know from Tarkovsky, yet with the innocence and wit reminiscent of Truffaut. The waggish and cunning temper of Firus Sabsalijew acting as Farukh reminds of Jean-Pierre Léaud in the role of Antoine Doinel. Chudojnasarow draws an ambiguous image of brotherhood as a bond which can neither be chosen nor easily discarded. There often is violence, even in moments of tenderness. With the heartwarming ending, Chudojnasarow proves a Menschenfreund, again reminding of Truffaut. Yet the open end that defies closure also reveals the openness of film itself.