Les chevaux de feu

Ingmar Bergman once claimed that the childhood gift of a film projector inspired him to make movies. The feeling of magic in creating images in light upon the wall never left him; perhaps it revealed to him the perfect medium for living out dreams.

Watching "Shadows of Our Forgotten Ancestors" is like that moment of discovery: it makes us feel the same joy some have felt in discovering Bresson or Godard, the joy of finding out what film can do. It is understanding the director's joy in putting pictures together to tell a story (like a painter finding just the right colors to paint a myth). The movie, a sort of folk- Ukrainian "Romeo and Juliet," bursts with passion and physicality, chasing its protagonists through some of the most wild and beautiful landscapes ever caught on film. Yet the real romance here is between director Parajanov and the camera, which swoons and runs and bounds as ardently as any young lover, whether falling like a tree to the ground or spinning through a field or moping grief-stricken in a corner. Parajanov, like a honeymooning bridegroom, tries everything; he veers from silent-film subtitles to new-wave editing gimmicks to Russian iconography within seconds, and yet the tricks never feel anachronistic. From a torchlit search along a river to witchcraft in a lightning storm to the simple, painful clarity of the hero's eyes, the movie exudes a pagan wildness. (How he smuggled it past Soviet aesthetics is anybody's guess.)

This is a movie that makes you laugh not from comedy but from sheer pleasure; it is as warm, bold, tragic, profoundly silly, and above all human, as a Shakespeare romance. See it by any means necessary.

Good news/bad news. The good news is that Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors (Shadows), a truly exceptional film, is out in DVD format—and, the color reproduction was well worth waiting for. It's based on a masterpiece novel of the same name written by Ukrainian author (late 19th-early 20th centuries) Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky.

Journey into the past and experience the world-renowned Ukrainian Hutsul folklore and folkways that encyclopedists, historians, and authors depict by way of words and the film gives credence to via imagery, moods, symbolism, and sounds. Avenues you'll travel will branch off, giving you exposure to artistic embroideries, folk music, folk songs, ornate costumes, religious ceremonies, and traditional rituals (such as a traditional Hutsul wedding and a traditional Hutsul burial), along the way.

Folklife comes alive as you float down a river in a unique wooden raft, partake in Christmas festivities, encounter a sorcerer, and lots more--all against a backdrop of the magnificent Ukrainian Carpathian Mountains, where trees' shadows silhouette straight as they stretch for the stars and for the skies, where horses dress in tassels as they meander meadows and highlands, where Hutsuls converse across Carpathian Mountains via trembitas--and, where Ivan cannot forget his true love.

Shadows isn't your typical feel-good film--it's for the connoisseur of fine arts. If you want your senses stimulated, your imagination enlivened, and your knowledge of Hutsul culture expanded, then, this is the film for you!

Film director, Sergei Parajanov, was an Armenian born in Georgia. He insisted on filming Shadows in the Ukrainian language and refused to dub it into Russian. In his lifetime, he was persecuted by the Soviets, was arrested several times, spent years in prison, and his subsequent works were banned.

Later renamed Wild Horses of Fire for most foreign distributions, Shadows was Parajanov's first major work, and earned him international acclaim for its rich use of color and costume--it won six international film festival awards: London, San Francisco, Mar del Plata, New York, Montreal, and Thessaloniki.

Wikipedia states that Carl Sagan and Ann Druyan borrowed the title of their book, Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors: A Search for Who We Are, from the movie of that same name, which they state has little in common with the "haunting 1964 film."

The bad news is that a number of descriptive entries are inaccurate. Reading the misleading descriptions on the VHS/DVD covers give the impression that the film is Russian. This film is licensed by Kino from the Russian distributor Ruscico, which is probably why the descriptions refer incorrectly to Russian rather than Ukrainian.

1. The descriptions on both the VHS and DVD covers state, in part, "depiction of the harsh realities of Russian regional history...." The phrase "Russian regional history" is incorrect and should read: "Ukrainian regional history." Not only is the film in the Ukrainian language, the Hutsuls are Ukrainians living in the Ukrainian Carpathian Mountains, and the film is based on a novel by Ukrainian author Mykhailo Kotsiubynsky (1864-1913).

Update: This has now been changed to good news on Amazon.com: the copy now reads "Ukrainian regional history." However, anybody looking at the actual VHS or DVD covers will still see these erroneous descriptions; thus, these points still need to be highlighted as incorrect.

2. Correction is also needed in the reference: "And although its unsentimental depiction of the harsh realities of Russian (sic—as referenced in no. 1 above) regional history forced visionary director Sergei Pararadjanov (The Color of Pomegranates) into direct conflict with bureaucrats then controlling the Soviet film industry...."

Director Parajanov insisted on filming his adaptation in the Ukrainian language and refused to dub it into Russian--that's what caused his conflict with Communist authorities--not his portrayal of the "harsh realities of Russian (sic—as referenced in no. 1 above) regional history." However, anybody looking at the VHS or DVD covers will still see these erroneous descriptions; thus, these points still need to be highlighted as incorrect.

To see 45 photos depicting Hutsuls while learning more about their culture, please visit Amazon.com and click on "images" in Mandrivnyk's book review of Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors.

Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors is a must see/must own DVD--at the very least, it should appear worldwide on library shelves and in personal collections. This DVD definitely deserves 10-stars!—Mandrivnyk

P. S. To see over 650 photos (with notes) of Ukraine that I took in 1993 and 1994, please visit the profile page of Mandrivnyk (Arlington Heights, IL) on Amazon.com. Visit each review (to view the photos in sequential order); if you visit the image gallery, you'll see the photos in random order. They'll enhance your knowledge and understanding of Ukraine and Ukrainians.

The first great film from the greatest director in post-war Soviet Union. The experience is almost like being strapped to a malfunctioning rollercoaster, as a relatively straightforward story - young man falls in love with neighbour; she dies; he mourns; remarries; still loves dead mate (Wuthering Heights anyone?) - is violently attacked by hurling camera movements that reveal the most vertiginous spaces, both exterior and interior; bizarre angles (eg from a falling tree); a restless mix of music from Kusturica-like horn blowers, shards of modernism and thrilling Romanticism; content that blends myth, dreams, legends, folk tales etc.; and editing that bewilders and disrupts rather than matches and connects. A brilliant recreation of a forgotten culture and times that was a dangerous two-fingers to totalitarianism.

I was brought up in a backward Polish village where the Ukrainian background was also present (I could in most part understand the language of the movie). This movie reminded me of my long forgotten childchood in a place where people didn't lock their houses and lived very simple lives. Magnificent visual effects, melodious folk music and probably the music of Sergei Prokofiev or someone close to his style complete the picture. I believe it is a universal story about love, life, death and that all things that are nice are turning into oblivion. I myself emigrated to America, then came back after some years, though changed and working mostly for Western companies. Though being generally a child of Western European and American culture I acknowledge that it pays to keep at least part of our original heritage. Miroslaw

Thank god for this man. He could have given us this one film and still changed the medium twice as most filmmakers have done in a lifetime. It deserves to be studied by anyone working today in movies and looking for rich multilayered intuition. This man has centuries in him.

The story is deceptively simple; young man loves, loses, and has to scramble on with life. But the way it burrows into you and speaks now, even though it's from another time, well, the way it's done is from another world.

To Western viewers, it will seem quite literally like something from another world. It profoundly speaks to me because I was lucky that me and him share a part of that other world, the one closer to the steppe. The difference between worlds is simple; in the West, you had the luxury of painting and theater, and music melded into that with opera, so when cinema rolled around a few centuries later, there was already an established reservoir of ways to see and imagine. The first films were little more than filmed plays with the camera assuming the role of the audience, later renovated in France (partly) through the influence of impressionist painting.

Parajanov was Armenian, which is to say from that world that ages ago was swept by invaders from the steppe. There was no lofty art allowed in the centuries of Ottoman blight, nowhere in the empire. There was no Rennaisance. Not there and not where I write this from. Our painting was religious icons. Our theater was song and dance. The collective soul had to pour that way, which is why they still persist and resonate in these parts; in the work of Kazantzakis, Bregovic, Kusturica and others, also why Western-influenced makers like Angelopoulos or Ceylan speak far less to the common folk.

You have to appreciate the significance of this in terms of cinema. There was already an established Soviet tradition in film in those days, Parajanov was a student at the prestigious VGIK after all. But, he chose to go even beyond Dovzhenko, a teacher of his at VGIK, who framed his films, back when he was still allowed by censors, as poetic remembrance of ancient past.

The memory of it was not enough, it had to have soul of its own now, what in the Spanish-speaking world is called the duende. It had to be a song that cuts deep and rises from bloody earth.

But, this is the genius of Parajanov. So a memory that is sang and danced out by the camera, and because he is not constrained by a visual tradition, the world of the film is freeform and spontaneous waters, an absolute marvel to watch. But he doesn't just photograph the iconography of the dance from the outside, simple pageantry.

That iconography is vivid and immediate in itself, you don't need special keys. Austere suffering saints look down at suffering. The mourning fire that burns in him and has to go out by itself. A lamb is caressed the way his soul needs it. Songs as hearsay overlain on scenes of life.

That is all melody to the song, lyrical cadence in terms of images. We'd be lucky if most filmmakers saw that far, most just center on story or character and parse out what beats result. Parajanov does neither, in a similar way to his friend Tarkovsky.

He provides deeply felt illogical machinery of that world to swim into, remember this is a world where sorcery is believed and wards off a storm, and prayer manifests as a lout from the woods looking for sex, in other words, we are not mere spectators to a gaudy visual dance from faraway times, the film is made so that we feel the urges and pulls of the world dancing around us. He pulls fabric to film from the ether around the edges of someome experiencing a story, the same deeply felt air that a singer cannot put to words and responds to with a song.

Look for the amazing finale. The film is bookended by death, but it's death that none of the individual scenes reasonably explain, it can only maybe have allusive extra-logical sense in being pieced by you. It is something that specifically has meaning that you let go. The thing is that him confronting or being confronted at the tavern, is, in itself, knowing about the sorcerer and his wife, knowing at the same instant that his father's death was the result of a similarly veiled and bubbling causality, knowing all in once that the universe, the cosmic dance, is not random but has inexplicable agency.

An invisible axe is spunning and cutting the tethers.

The way Parajanov filmed has been taken up by many, sure enough, Malick included. But we just haven't found more eloquent solutions to narrative, not in Malick, not in Lynch. I'm not just waxing. On top of everything else, the way causalities are overlain here is as intricate as I've seen in a film.