L'ascension

This is one of the very, very few films that are so overwhelming that you are very unlikely to watch it more than once or twice in your lifetime (other examples are Claude Lanzmann's documentary Shoah and Come and See by the director's husband Elem Klimov - which covers much the same unbearable territory but in a very different way).

I suppose this is just as well given the difficulty of ever seeing a print.

Apparently it's extraordinarily overt Christian symbolism and admission that there were active Russian collaborators, ensured that it was hardly ever seen in the USSR - and of course post-soviet Russia has very little interest in films of that era.

The one time I saw it in London was in a festival of Russian movies shown during the Glasnost era (i.e. probably c.1988) - however it apparently has been shown several times in the UK more recently so at least one subtitled print must exist here.

As far as I know it has never been released in the west on DVD or video so if you haven't seen it, your best chance is probably to join a film society and endlessly nag them to find a print and screen it.

Larisa Shepitko's THE ASCENT (1976) is an extraordinary, gruelling account of the partisans' fight against the Nazis in German-occupied Belorussia, The Ascent reflects the Russian obsession with the horrors of the Great Patriotic War, but unusually is both steeped in religious symbolism and ready to acknowledge the existence of the less than great Russian collaborator. The true battle is not with the Nazis, who hover in the background as mere extras, but between the Russian Nazi investigator and Sotnikov, the captured partisan who finds the spiritual strength to go to his death unbeaten. With its many references to the Crucifixion, the story takes on heroic proportions glorifying the sufferings of the martyr and his influence on future generations. A remarkable piece of work.

In the Belarus of 1942, two Soviet soldiers are captured by Nazi-friendly Belarusians. In captivity, the attitude of the two men toward their fate differs greatly. One of the soldiers manages to find an inner strength and spirituality, incomprehensible to the other man. Larisa Shepitko's last film is one of the most beautiful war films in cinema history. The cinematography, by Vladimir Chuchnov, is incredible - particularly in the opening sequence, where long, slow, tracking shots depicting the solitude and almost desperate nature of winter landscape in rural Belarus set the mood perfectly. It is easy to draw comparison to Tarkovsky's films, even more so since Tarkovsky's alter ego Anatoli Solonitsyn has a small but important part in The Ascent. The acting is overall brilliant, especially by Boris Plotnikov, in the part of Sotnikov. The film reveals an old-fashioned belief in the strength of religious passion, which feels related to characters such as Dostoyevsky's Prince Myshkin, or Tarkovsky's Stalker. However, this is not a weakness of the film, but rather one of its greatest strengths. The religious content seems so honest, and human, that it is impossible not to be moved. The emotional richness of the film cannot be overstated; the answer is not as simplified as a short summary of the plot would make you think. The slow development of the characters, and the emphasis on their complicated relationships to each other, are somewhat reminiscent of The Commissar, another great Soviet film. The Ascent deserves a second watching, as well as a third, and a tenth. It continues to provide interesting ideas, beautiful images, and emotional complexity.

This intense dramatic examination of the effect of battle on two soldiers thrown together by the circumstances of World War II is brutal and often difficult to watch; it is a black and white film, and since most of the action occurs in the snow, it sometimes approaches the look of an abstract painting.

In what is now Belarusa, the two men from different backgrounds are ordered to leave the camp to find food; on the way they encounter Nazi soldiers and are captured along with members of local peasantry; interrogation and torture follow. The film is less about action and more about the struggle to find meaning in battle, a struggle for the soul's integrity. This is a new release from the Criterion Eclipse series and is exquisitely remastered; be warned it is not an action film, and more a potent examination of human behavior under the worst sorts of stress; it can be a powerful viewing experience for some, and like Elem Klimov's Come And See, a revelation in many ways.

Having just seen this, I find it hard to believe that it is not better known. This and the slightly-better-known, but almost-as-shamefully-neglected COME AND SEE (Klimov, 1986) must be two of the greatest war films. They are meaningful, powerful, incisive. THE ASCENT is also gifted with a sparingly-used, but brilliantly trenchant score by Schnittke.