Arca russa

An unnamed and unseen filmmaker finds himself in the Hermitage museum in St Petersburg in what appears to be the 18th Century. No one seems to be able to see him except his travelling companion, Frenchman Marquis de Custine, who he talks to. Together the two of them go around the museum, flitting between time as they go, gradually covered 300 years of Russian history.

I was drawn to this film as I have recently had to install digital television in my house (just for 24!) and I figured that I might as well see what the channels had to offer. After working out that I had access to numerous shopping channels I also found that I had BBC4, the arts and history channel, and that it was to be showing this film. I was interested in it not for my love of Russian history but for the fact that it was done in one take and, for that reason, I quite enjoyed it.

As far as plot goes, I really think you need to have an existing knowledge of Russian history as this film will not help you understand anything about it other than a passing impression. This was the case for me as I know next to nothing of the history, but I was still able to gleam some things about the political relationships between Russia and Europe as well as some of the main players. However it never got to the point where I was taken or engaged by the material; interested is perhaps a more fitting word to use - and that's still a good thing.

Technically the film is gripping and very impressive. Much was made of Snake Eye's 20 minute one-take opening (even thought it was actually 3 takes) or Goodfella's seamless move from street to table, but this film blows them away. I cannot even imagine the sheer logistics involved in creating such an effect. It would be impressive if the film was all shot in one room with a few cast members, but this film moves around the museum with a cast of thousands and set pieces that vary from two people looking at paintings to a massive ballroom scene. I was held totally impressed by the whole film as the entire one take was delivered seamlessly, without flaw. For this reason the acting is impressive whether it is Dontsov's acerbic Frenchman or just some extra's - everyone had to get it right bang on time and they did.

Overall this film will be a masterpiece if you have a good working knowledge and understanding of Russian history. However even if you don't know that much (like me), the technical aspect of this film will impress you no end even if the material is best seen as `interesting' at best.

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.

In the history of cinema, it is the Russians who are generally credited with elevating film editing to a modern art form. It is ironic, and strangely fitting, therefore, that it should be the Russians who, almost a full century later, have now produced the first full-length feature film ever to be composed of a single unedited shot running uninterrupted from first moment to last (Hitchcock came close with `Rope,' but he did include a few `cuts' in the course of the film). Even Sergei Eisenstein, who, in films like `Potemkin' and `Ten Days That Shook the World' spent his career developing and demonstrating the power of editing, would, I dare say, be impressed by `Russian Ark,' a film every bit as innovative and challenging as those earlier seminal works.

For their bravura, awe-inspiring cinematic tour-de-force, director Alexander Sokurov and cinematographer Tilman Buttner take us into the famed Hermitage Museum and Winter Palace in St. Petersburg, providing us with a grand tour not only of the opulent rooms and famous artwork contained therein, but of 300 years of Russian history as well, as various vignettes involving famous people (from Peter and Catherine the Great to Nicholas and Alexandra) and events are played out within the glorious gilded walls.

`Russian Ark' is a bold and audacious project that is the cinematic equivalent of a breathlessly performed high wire juggling act. We know that one false move on the part of the actors or the cameraman, one missed cue or accident of fate could bring the whole delicately poised enterprise crashing down around them. How often, one wonders, did a perfectionist like Sukorov have to resist the temptation to yell `Cut!' to his actors and crew? It's truly amazing to see just how beautifully planned and flawlessly executed the final product turns out to be, especially the ball sequence at the end which features hundreds of dancers and spectators who are set in beautifully choreographed and constantly whirling motion. What's most remarkable is how much of a participant the camera itself is in the proceedings. Not content to stand idly by and observe the scene like some passive onlooker, the camera moves right into the center of the action, gliding in and out of the crowds with utmost grace and precision. Visually, the film is stunning, with exquisite costumes and furnishings as far as the eye can see. Indeed, `Russian Ark' is, among other things, a veritable feast for the eyes, the likes of which we have rarely seen on film before.

`Russian Ark' does have something of a `plot,' involving a narrator whom we never see, a 21st Century filmmaker – we assume it's Sukorov himself - who's found himself inexplicably caught in some type of time warp and magically transported to this strange spectral world. There's also a bizarre European `ghost' figure from the unspecified past who comments - and occasionally attempts to intrude – on the actions taking place around him. But these two characters are of far less interest to the audience than the aural and visual delights of the film itself.

`Russian Ark' is a wonder to behold, for it is much more than just an `exercise,' a `gimmick,' or even an `antithesis' to Eisenstein; it is a vibrant work of art that challenges the limits of its medium and reminds us of just what it is about movies that we love so much.

A 90-minute movie centered on St. Petersburg's Hermitage Museum, filmed in one unbroken take by a digital steadicam, didn't send a lot of Americans racing to buy tickets when it was shown here two or three years ago. The movie, however, is far more than just a technical stunt. It's a unique tour de force with emotional impact.

Russian Ark portrays the Hermitage as a kind of cultural and historical ark floating on centuries of Russian seas. The narrative device is a shadowy eighteenth century Frenchman who wanders the halls and time periods, commenting often with good-natured European condescension on what he sees. He is accompanied by a Russian who is never seen, and who questions him about his comments. The movie ranges through time with appearances of Peter the Great, Catherine II, Pushkin, Nicholas II and his family, generals, maids, flunkies and diplomats. The Frenchman, played with great style by Russian actor Sergei Dreiden, takes us to painting and sculpture galleries, kitchens, ballrooms, storerooms, basements and living quarters as we observe things that happened in the Hermitage over the centuries.

At first, I was very aware of the technical feat of no cuts. Gradually, though, I think most people just relax and accept the skill of the director and photographer, and become immersed in what they are seeing. A kind of unreal imagery takes hold. The movie ends with the last dance held in the Great Ballroom before WWI. Hundreds of actors and dancers, in full costume, swirl around this ornate setting, and swirl around the camera as well, while the camera glides through the crowds. It's a terrific scene, and is followed by the end of the dance with all the hundreds of guests making their way through the halls and staircases to leave the building, with the camera facing them and moving along in front of them.

This is a highly unusual film, probably a great one.

This documentary-type movie, done all in one long, unbroken take with a steadicam, has the camera basically hovering around a famous Russian museum for an hour and-a-half as the unseen film director (both by us and the others in the museum) makes comments, as if in a dream, and converses with a French, former diplomat from the 1800s. It's a mix of a museum tour, Russian history, and performance art -- Catherine the Great appears at one point, desperately looking for the toilet. I liked it because it's about the closest thing to a dreamstate you can get in film, something like the long tracking shots in Tarkovsky's movies; I didn't get a lot of the references to Russian historical figures, but it doesn't really matter. However, if you know Russian history, you may get extra enjoyment out of it and might latch onto the sarcastic bits better than I did. I think this is a real achievement; a perfect example of how style is substance. 9/10