Khroustaliov, ma voiture!

an absolute masterpiece that becomes quite an experience for the audience.

from the first sight, it might be interesting for those who were born in soviet regime only, since the story itself is about the darkest period of soviet regime - Stalin's era - but if you look closer you will discover a Kafka-like parable of a man trying to survive in a doomed circle of fatal circumstances.

dark, atmospheric, accurate in every single character and detail, this film requires your involvement to be understood and appreciated -

and once this happens, you will achieve a cinematic treasure, one of a kind.

10/10

This black-and-white film is a total surprise: never earlier have I seen anyone making history to live as breathtaking as Aleksei German in his output; "Khrustalyov, mashinu!" brings us the year of Stalin's death such close to us. Ghost of Stalin and the power of fear and idiotism can almost touch us through this perfect film.

"Khrustalyov" consists of scenes with prestissimo-tempo: persons are talking and walking and camera follows so many things that it is almost impossible to absorb all the material which is offered us humble spectators. The plot is not as important as how it is told.

Superb views from Moscow in the middle of the Winter with cars driving like devilish monsters are without any doubt one my greatest moments in cinema. It took a whole year from Germany to collect all the vehicles - only to show them in his film for few minutes... What perfectionism! And the whole film is same miraculous quality.

A must!

i saw this two years ago at cinema festival. i still remember it now. having watched a lot of russian cinema, i can admit it`s one of the most powerful, imaginative and thought provoking movies ever made.

the acting is superb and guided with pettiness. please, believe me,

you have never seen so many different characters in one movie. every extra has a role.

a cinematic experience of rare breed.

if you like to be surprised - see it.

10/10

Aleksey German invites you on a journey through the madness of Stalinist Moscow. Not only is the story a journey with unexpected turns, also the cinematography evokes this sense of adventure; long shots, the camera following the footsteps of the protagonist, people wandering through the line of sight. With its incredible detailedness, a true living world emerges. A delight to watch with its rich visual languge, albeit intensive to stay focussed for 2h27m.

German chose a similar style for his equally masterful Hard to be a God (2013), which enters the realm of sci-fi and historical pictures, or Gaspar Noe's virtuoso Enter the Void (2009).

With its critical approach to the Stalinist period, German realised this film exactly at the right moment (1998): in the Soviet age, the film would have been censored, and in the Putin age Stalin was placed back on his pedestal, banning the hilarious British comedy Death of Stalin (2017), a film which through a different strategy aims to similarly show the remarkable climate of the last days of Stalin. What these two films have in common is the wish to reconstruct the absurdity and arbitrariness which governed human lives at that point, served with a dose of irony and black humour.

clearly, this is a film for which either one votes 10 or votes 3. Those artsy folks will hail it a great feat, and those folks that wish to be entertained will walk out of the theather. A black and white film, the titles appear only after about 10 minutes of pivoting plots, kind of reminded me how the titles suddenly appeared in Sergio Leone's "Once Upon a Time the West". The random appearence of people's faces from left and right, some emerging from sauna tubs, others from foggy and steamy rooms, reminds Fellini's Otto e Mezzo. And much of the interiors, people's musings on everyday life, and the "life goes on" quality of city life, reminds the graphic novel by Ben Katchor, "Julius Knipl, Real Estate Photographer". On the absurbist twists and plots, "The Nose" by Gogol comes to mind, and the slight fantastic world (look out for those umbrellas suddenly popping open) brings Bulgakov's "The Master and Margarita". Rich (but senseless) plot, lots of takes, lots of baroquely enriched interiors, outdoor scenes of streets in snowy winter and the muffled sound of cars rolling on snow. Even the title is random: a sentence one hears being yelled by one of the many many characters. Now, if Francesco Rosi's "La Tregua" had a bit of this randomness and absurbist quality to give more of the feel of directionless of war's end, it would have been great.