Moy laskovyy i nezhnyy zver

This has something of the judgement of Paris about the story, only this time it's the impoverished "Olga" (Galena Belyaeva) who has to choose between three men who would have her heart, body and soul. Perhaps the most obvious choices might be the dashing "Kamyshev" (Oleg Yankovskiy), or maybe the elderly count "Karneyev" (Kirill Lavrov) but might she also consider the rather dour widower "Urbenin" (Leonid Markov)? What's clear is that all three would be perfectly happy to have her keep them warm on a winter's night. "Olga" is not, initially at any rate, a temptress, though. She doesn't wish to use any wiles and looks to ensnare anyone, she does genuinely believe that there is hope that she will find true love - and there's a clear candidate from her trio of suitors for that. What chance though? In the end might she, and her family, elect for anything to get them out of the miserably cold poverty in which they live whilst the gentry enjoy their lavish meals, fresh fruit and warming brandy? It's a Chekhov story that's done the rounds over the years, but this adaptation stays a bit truer to the original in that it imbues the girl with a degree of innocence, purity even, and Belyaeva delivers an emotionally nuanced effort that's half Julie Christie and half Ingrid Bergman. The male characters don't fare so well as decent examples of their sex and on that front I found Lavrov to turn in the most engaging effort, especially as the film develops and we all realise that their ancient system of serf and noble is on it's last legs. The production design shows off the opulent decadence in contrast with the more rustic realities well: the gates to the big house that were opened and closed even though there were no walls or fences on either side rather illustrated the fragility of the landed gentry's societal position. At times it is a little too theatrical and can leave it somewhat stilted on occasion, but there are solid efforts from both behind and in front of the camera to tell a story of a recalibration of a society and of a women who wants to make her own choices in life. Oh, and it's a love story too.

This film takes place in the 19th century countryside in Russia. It's a sort of a suspense story, but more of a tragedy with a beautiful poor country girl and three men who take interest in her.

It's a very nice adaptation of Chekov's story. It's strongly atmospheric and needs concentration to be fully appreciated. If you like a lot of action you'll probably get bored.

Acting is good and cinematography is beautiful, and even if the past is captured very realistically there's also almost a magical feeling to the whole movie.

This was my first foray into Russian - or to be strict, Soviet - cinema. It is not a kind of cinema that the West knows very well, and I only became aware of this film thanks to its magnificent soundtrack. I was not badly impressed, and I confess that I was in the mood to find Anton Chekhov's original book to read it too.

The story is set in the countryside, where Count Karneyev, a noble landowner, lives. On a day when he was strolling through his hunting grounds with two friends - the widower Urbenin and the young bailiff Kamyshev - the group is surprised by a thunderstorm and has to take shelter in the house of a forest guard. It turns out that this guard has a very young and beautiful daughter, Olga, who grew up freely and whose spontaneity and beauty captures the attention of the three men. Desiring to get a comfortable life, Olga decides to marry Urbenin, but soon realizes that she loves Kamyshev, and the two end up having an affair, in a story that will turn into a tragedy marked by crossed passions and jealousy.

Deep, melancholic, sometimes dramatic, Emil Loteanu's film is pleasant and deserves our best attention. Setting the plot in the final reigns of Tsarism, the film takes the opportunity to criticize the "modus vivendi" of the Russian elite of the time, to the taste of Soviet thinking: trapped in a way of life that has both dissolute and absurd, the rich - be they aristocrats or bourgeois - are selfless debauched who care little for the harshness of the lives of the poor or even their own servants, placed to serve as chandeliers, as objects that can be disposed of. Criticism of marriage for convenience is also present, as is the warning of the danger that young women pose to more mature men. In fact, Olga is a character who is far from being innocent, despite her youth: she is the almost intentional pivot of the web of jealousy and crossed passions where she entangles herself, creating her fatal destiny through her attitudes.

The cast is headed by Galina Belyaeva. Extremely young, only 16, she is fair, attractive, captivating, charismatic and perfect for the role. And as life tends to imitate art, Loteanu proved unable to resist her, despite being much older than her at the time of filming. They would be married two years later, for a short time. With the young Russian actress - who became an icon at the time - they also star Oleg Yankovsky, Kirill Lavrov and Leonid Markov. They are quite good and do an interesting work, but it is undoubtedly Belyaeva who stands out.

Technically, the film is quite simple: cinematography has nothing special, and I even thought that some shooting angles and camera movements seem too rough, they are not as subtle as would be desirable. The sets and costumes are quite good, and they emphasize all the features I already mentioned: the ranger's hut shows the simple and hard life of the poor, Olga's costumes follow the evolution of her character (from the simple girl in the forest to a lady) and the shabby mansion express well the decadence of the Russian aristocracy. The soundtrack, which I mentioned at the beginning, contains iconic melodies by Eugene Doga, especially a specific wonderful waltz.

I'll never forget the wedding waltz (by Evgeny Doga) from this movie... Almost every woman in Russia likes this film and this beautiful music. My grandmother, my mother and my girlfriend like it very much.

THE SHOOTING PARTY, aka. A HUNTING ACCIDENT is Soviet filmmaker Emil Loteanu's cinematic interpretation of Chekhov's only full-length, eponymous novel, and the final product is as sumptuously alluring as it is melancholically tedious.

The plot centers around a 19-year-old bombshell Olga (Belyaeva), the daughter of a forester, playing the field between three older men who are besotted with her, Count Karneyev (Lavrov), noble widower Urbenin (Markov) and our protagonist the court investigator Kamyshev (Yankovsky), only the latter she truly loves, but oscillating between financial security and veridical feelings, she makes many a decision against her best judgement, until a hunting accident brings down the curtain on her transient life, but the guilty party gets off scot-free, much obliged to her own withdrawal of the information in extremis.

By meting out punishment to Olga as the token sinner and her husband a scapegoat taking the rap, Chekhov's novel ineluctably hews to that time-honored phallocratic presumption that it is any above-board man's poetic justice to penalize a wanton nymphet, and what rubs salt into the wound is that Loteanu's film is saturated with wandering male gaze and old-money decadence, a combo looks execrably unfashionable to today's ethos (or, on a less militant note, merely to this reviewer's lights).

The fact that a 16-year-old Galina Belyaeva (who would be endowed with the lofty epithet "Russian Audrey Hepburn") would soon be led to the altar by Loteanu, 25 years her senior, echos the director's own possessive infatuation with nubile youth, and their matrimony lasts only 5 years, which says much about the treacherous nature such union implicates.

For all its lyrical longueur, loosey-goosey character arc and an unsavory surplus of machismo that mingled with aristocratic dissipation, THE SHOOTING PARTY has its own merits, both for its production value and aural abundance, not least Eugene Doga's consecrated wedding waltz, and the cacophony invoked by a cohort of Gypsy musicians is so discordant that it is tenaciously embedded in the mind. Also, the cast is good if not great, Belyaeva is an ethereal being, but hobbled by a far too fluid characterization she is an objectified prize up for grabs; Oleg Yankovskiy is typically pronounced in subsisting his concealed passion with four-square resolution, and Kirill Lavrov obviously revels in the count's total abandon with all the theatrics welling up to the fore, yet, they are delectable, alas, the same adjective can barely be referred to Loteanu's own vanity project.