L'arche russe

"Russian Ark" is an extraordinary docu-drama approach to bringing architectural history alive. It brings the "living history" approach of "Colonial Williamsburg" etc. to cinema.

It would have been enough that the director got extensive access to the Hermitage Museum in Petersburg to show it to us.

It would have been enough to have authentic costumes, choreography, and make-up for several centuries of Russian history. (I was reminded that my husband's grandmother was a young seamstress for rich folks like these, making this extravagant lifestyle possible.)

It would have been enough to have literally a cast of thousands because how else can one really know how those fantastic ballrooms and grand staircases were meant to be used and seen without a full orchestra and gowned and uniformed participants as far as the camera can see?

It would have been enough to come up with a cute gimmick of a time-traveling two-some to glide us through the rooms of the Hermitage to show the tsars, aristocrats, curators, and ordinary Russian tourists who have passed through over the years, with humorous commentary on Russia's changing relationship with Europe over these centuries as shown through the art and architecture of the building while wars and revolutions loomed outside.

But then, it would have been enough that it's all done in a single take over just an hour and a half with luscious cinematography.

There was a slow line to get in the theater so I missed the opening historical background, and I've learned most of my Russian (let alone European) history from novels and movies so I did get a bit lost here and there wandering the corridors of history, but the unseen narrator posits that this is all a dreamscape anyway.

I made a point of seeing this because a fellow cinephile who I frequently bump into at my local arthouse had directly called the distributor asking when it would be playing elsewhere and was told they can't afford to make more prints available so one can only see it at the Manhattan theaters -- so make a point to see it on a movie screen and not just wait for when the History Channel shows a reduced version.

Western fascination with Russia -whether the land of the Tsars or the cruel empire of the madman Stalin - is one of our unending cultural fixations. Endlessly studied, painstakingly analyzed, mocked and admired - Russia is a massive, ongoing colossal story. An enigma that never yields its deepest secrets.

Director Aleksandr Sokurov is the voice of the anonymous inquisitor who accompanies nineteenth century French marquis Sergei Dreiden (Sergei Dontsov) on a breathtaking tour of the physical and spiritual Hermitage of St. Petersburg. He has made a groundbreaking, stunning film. Shot from a Steadycam in one continuous over hour-and-a-half stream, the film explores the treasures of one of the world's greatest museums. Equally, "Russian Ark" rambles, without regard for chronological order, through snatches of Russian and Soviet history, each short episode a fantastical peep into a wild, rich, often terrifying but always fascinating world.

In the nineteenth century European travellers, most often men (Charles Dickens, for example) and some women (Fanny Trollope for one) visited and wrote about the two untamed civilizations that beckoned to foreigners and promised adventure and intrigue: Russia and the United States. Count Dreiden, a not atypical Frenchman of haughty self-assurance and ample means, viewed Russians as boorish and their culture a gilt-splendored front for a nearly barbarous land. His book would not have been picked up by a publisher linked to the travel industry.

In "Russian Ark" Dreiden is more muted than he is in print but his unquestioning cynicism comes through as Sokurov captures the imagined journey in one building of a French nobleman through both his time and a future he questions without developing much understanding.

So we have both an Acoustaguide tour of a wonderful palace of culture and myriad treasures and snapshots of everyone from Catherine the Great to Nicholas and Alexandra and their children, including an adorable Anastasia, fated to be one of history's silly mysteries. Noblemen and contemporary sailors, bemedaled officers and bejeweled women, a cultured woman gallery guide and apparatchiks - they all fleet through and interact with the questioning but stolidly biased Frenchman.

How did Sokurov pull off a continuous take through over 4,200 feet of the Hermitage with a cast of many hundreds, gorgeously costumed, without a hitch? Unbelievable! That feat alone propels him into the Cinema Pantheon of Fame. At times I felt like I was drawn into the crowd, especially when they depart a dance to head for a fabulous banquet (the dance band is conducted by Valery Gergiev, the only famous - to Westerners - person in the film). And even though I knew from reviews that Sokurov pulled it off, I kept waiting for the seemingly inevitable "Cut!" following a miscue or stumble.

The hint of intrigue and menace that is so much part of Russia's past and present lurks behind an almost impressionistic front with scenes of one-dimensional gaiety almost but not entirely hiding a complex society. Sokurov teaches and teases simultaneously.

As visual splendor and directorial innovation this is one of the great films of our time. I look forward to owning it on DVD knowing that its magic can never be realized fully outside a theater.

Don't miss this one and see it more than once.

10/10.

I found "Russian Ark" a fascinating work of a very ambitious director. For me, it was a highly enjoyable guided tour through the rooms, galleries, and halls of one of the greatest museums in the world. I have not been to Hermitage (Winter Palace) for over fourteen years, and to see the familiar rooms, stairs, paintings, and sculptures was like traveling back in time. The film is also the journey over three hundred years of the Russian history and the attempt to understand the country's place and meaning in European culture. Each of the palace's rooms is filled with memories, shadows, whispers, smiles, and tears of the people whose lives have made the history of the country. The fact that it is all presented in a single, the longest uninterrupted shot ever makes it even more incredible. I also saw the documentary about making "Russian Ark". It is called "On One Breath" - that's how the director, Alexander Sokurov wanted his audience to feel about the film that was shot in a single glorious take during several hours on one winter night. The preparation for this unforgettable night took almost four years.

Sokurov breaks boundaries with his dreamlike vision of the Hermitage in St. Petersburg. It's the first feature-length narrative film shot in a single take (on digital video, using a specially designed disc instead of tape). "Russian Ark" is shot from the point-of-view of an unseen narrator, as he explores the museum and travels through Russian history. The audience sees through his eyes as he witnesses Peter the Great (Maksim Sergeyev) abusing one of his generals; Catherine the Great (Maria Kuznetsova) desperately searching for a bathroom; and, in the grand finale, the sumptuous Great Royal Ball of 1913. The narrator is eventually joined by a sarcastic and eccentric 19th century French Marquis (Sergey Dreiden), who travels with him throughout the huge grounds, encountering various historical figures and viewing the legendary artworks on display. While the narrator only interacts with the Marquis (he seems to be invisible to all the other inhabitants), the Marquis occasionally interacts with visitors and former residents of the museum.

The film was obviously shot in one day, but the cast and crew rehearsed for months to time their movements precisely with the flow of the camera while capturing the complex narrative, with elaborate costumes from different periods, and several trips out to the exterior of the museum. Tillman Buttner, the director of photography, was responsible for capturing it all in one single Steadicam shot. "Russian Ark" is an amazing accomplishment, and clearly made with passion, but while the film is sure to be hailed as a masterpiece by some, its narrative conceit isn't nearly as interesting as the technical feat of its creation. The result is a unique and intelligent film with sporadic moments of transcendent beauty that fails to create a strong emotional connection with its audience. It's essentially a 96-minute museum tour, with the added benefit of time travel and wax figures that briefly come to life.

But wax figures are all they are, essentially. Sokurov, as though following a hasty guide, spends so little time with the historical figures he portrays that it often feels as though he's moving on just as you begin to figure out who and what you're watching. The Russian experience of World War II, for example, is portrayed with a brief stop in a foreboding, ghostly room filled with coffins. The filmmaker is known for his lugubrious pacing, but Russian Ark has the odd distinction of seeming both slow paced and rushed. It moves slowly and mournfully, but still only glances across the surface of the eras it portrays. It's a demanding film, encompassing a wealth of Russian history and art history between its first and final frames. Those who stay with it will be rewarded in the end by a gorgeously mounted ball, in which the camera gracefully slides among elaborately costumed dancers as the orchestra plays. It's a deeply felt irony that this transcendent moment of joy takes place on the eve of the Russian revolution, and the world of these briefly glimpsed characters is about to come crashing to an end. It's a shame that the film has few moments where form and content align so powerfully

If you like visiting the homes of the formerly high and mighty, or have a passion for museums, this film ought to satisfy. It's really a virtual tour of the Hermitage Museum (the former Winter Palace) in St Petersburg but with 2800 actors and extras in full costume to add a little verisimilitude to the occasion. (If you want to repeat the experience for free visit the Hermitages' brilliant web site). I can believe that the whole 90 minutes was filmed in one take (at the third attempt) but I was staggered that the museum authorities allowed them to do it. Perhaps the clincher was to include a role for the present museum director who is seen with some of his predecessors fretting over the state of the Tsar's throne's upholstery.

Not knowing a lot of Russian history, some of the scenes didn't make much sense, but I did cotton on to Anastasia being late for tea. Maybe she got away after all. There was nothing from the Soviet era, except a brief scene during the German siege of Lenningrad (a million died, mainly from starvation, and many made coffins for themselves before they expired). This seems appropriate, since the communists contributed nothing to the buildings, which were started by Peter the Great and added to by his successors. A bad fire in 1837 was followed by extensive reconstruction and many of the rooms we see in the film date from that time.

I suppose this is the first film in which the set is the star and the actors merely props. There is in fact one dramatic part, that of the French Marquis who attended the Tsar's court in the 1840s, and who is somehow able to take us backward and forward in time. Even he is a bit two-dimensional, in fact the other, unseen, presence (the voice of the director of the film) is as real.

Towards the end we attend a great ball, and the Marquis gets to dance the Marzurka again. The music is great (is that Glinka conducting something of this own?) and the atmosphere gay (as somebody says `you can't be shy for the Mazurka') and for a moment history is forgotten. But we don't have a plot, the characters are cut-outs (with the exception of Catherine who seems to have been one of the more boisterous Empresses in history) and, basically, nothing happens. Yet I found myself absorbed by it all, occasionally wishing I could click my mouse to zoom in on an interesting painting. Ironically, much of the art is non-Russian, so `Russian Ark' is something of a misnomer – `Euro-Ark' is nearer the mark. At the end of the day, though, I am lost with admiration for the cinematographer, who managed to keep his digital camera running and pointed in the right direction for 90 minutes without making a mistake. Madness, brilliant Russian madness.