Siberíada

Siberiade, is considered by many to be Konchalovsky's masterpiece. A truly epic, grandiose, and colorful film, which follows 3 generations of two rival families in the remote Siberian logging village of Elan. The Solomins are the wealthy masters of this place, while the Ustyuzhanins are the poor unappreciated workers with no future, nothing to look forward to except hard work and an early death...That is, until the Bolshevik revolution comes and alters the power structure. While the young Nikolai Ustyuzhanin looks towards the future with dreams of a socialist paradise brought about by the glorious revolution going underway, the Solomins feel their own world dying and look towards the past, trying to hold on to what they have. Oil-rich Siberia will take on a new importance for the fledgling Soviet Union. Unchecked hope and progress collides with despair and reactive conservatism. In life, what we hope for is not what we get. Life comes with compromise. Trees fall to the ground stirring sadness in the soul for the woods that will be sacrificed for progress. Bombs explode and kill people stirring despair for we know the West will not allow a workers' socialist paradise to be created, because profits are what's important in a capitalist system. Revolution, war, famine, love and romance all combine here and are interwoven like the fibers of a fine tapestry. It's a spectacular, sweeping epic film not to be missed.

Konchalovsky's towering poem to Siberia doesn't steamroll ahead, though it's 4,5 hours long. It holds back for space, takes time in roundabout exploration of childhood memories in a turn-of-the-century backwoods village, yet it picks up steam doing this, builds in emotional resonance as though even the sounds and images which compose it become imbued by sheer association with their subject matter with that quality of fierce tireless quiet dignity that characterizes the Soviet working spirit. Konchalovsky celebrates Soviet collectivity but in an almost revisionist way to paeans like Soy Cuba and Invincible the mood turns somber and reflective.

So eventually the Revolution, the one thought to matter. News of it reach the secluded Siberian village only through the grapevine. Worse with the fruits of its labor, these reach the village only when a world war calls for the young men to enlist.

But although the scope appears huge and daunting, Konchalovksy zeroes in on the individual, the face behind the history; with care and affection to examine the bitter longing and regret of the woman who waited 6 years after the war for a fiancé who never came back, waited long enough to go out and become a barmaid in a ship with velvet couches and which she quit years later to come back to her village to care for an aging uncle who killed the fiancé's father with an axe, the irreverent folly of the fiancé who came back from the war a hero 20 years too late, came back not for the sake of the girl he left behind but to drill oil for the motherland, the despair and resignation of the middle-aged Regional Party Leader who comes back to his small Siberian village with the sole purpose of blotting it out of the map to build a power plant.

The movie segues from decade to decade from the 10's to the 80's with amazing newsreel footage trailing Soviet history from the revolution to war famine and the titanic technological achievements of an empire (terrific visuals here! pure futurism of kinetic violence and skewed angles and flickering cramped shots of crowds and faces) but the actual movie focuses on the individual, on triumphs and follies small and big. By the second half a sense of bittersweet fatalism creeps in; of broken lives that never reached fulfillment choking with regret and yearning. "It can't matter", seems like the world is saying, to which Konchalovksy answers "it must matter" because the protagonists keep on trying for redemption.

Yet behind this saga of 'man against landscape' something seems to hover, shadowy, almost substanceless, like the Eternal Old Man hermit who appears in every segment to guide or repudiate the protagonists, sometimes a mere spectactor, sometimes the enigmatic sage; a little behind and above all the other straightforward and logical incomprehensible ultimatums challenges and affirmations of the human characters, something invisible seems to lurk. Ghosts of the fathers appearing in sepia dreams, repeated shots of a star gleaming in the nightsky, a curious bear, indeed the Eternal Old Man himself; Konchalovksy calls for awe and reverence before a mystical land of some other order.

In its treatment of a small backwoods community struggling against nature progress and time and in the ways it learns to deal with them, often funny bizarre and tragic at the same time, and in how the director never allows cynicism to override his humanism, it reminds me of Shohei Imamura's The Profound Desires of the Gods. When, in a dream scene, Alexei tears through the planks of a door on which is plastered a propaganda poster of Stalin to reach out at his (dead) father as he vanishes in the fog, the movie hints at the betrayal of the Soviet Dream, or better yet, at all the things lost in the revolution, this betrayal made more explicit in the film's fiery denouement.

The amazing visuals, elegiac and somber with a raw naturalist edge, help seal the deal. By the end of it, an oil derric erupts in flames and the movie erupts in a wild explosion of pure cinema.

I have seen the film a few days back on a video tape and even though it was hard to swallow it at one take (because of its length and story), I liked it very much. I was impressed first, by the script and then, by the realization of this script. The film takes you on a ride, but that is not an easy, joyful ride; it goes through time and different political regimes and shows the influence of them to ordinary people's lives. What I loved was the inner logic the film followed; logic, which just like logic in life, was rather illogical and confusing at times but in the end, when I thought about it, all the events and twists made sense. It makes no sense though to try to re-tell the story as it spreads in more than 50 years of time. I also liked very much Nikita Mikhalkov's character Aleksei and the way he played it, as some critics would saw, with restless abandon. What I didn't like about it, was that I think he later played characters that remind me of Aleksei in films like "Cruel Romance" (Zhestokij romans, which I actually love) and to some extent in "The Insulted and the Injured" ("Unizhennye i oskorblyonnye"). "Sibiriada" shows, I think, what a great film-maker Andrei Konchalovski was before he went to Hollywood and made forgettable films like "Tango and Cash" and less forgettable like "Runaway train". I would prefer "Kurochka Ryaba" to them...

Siberiade is a magnificent epic. The story takes place mostly in the Siberian village Yelan, near which large deposits of oil lie. Two generations of villagers get caught up in turbulent times, when there was expansion in the Orthodox Civilization. The 1979 film is all about the characters. Well-known Soviet actors were cast in the leading roles, including Oscar winner Nikita Mikhalkov, Natalya Andrejchenko and Vitaly Solomin. Their losses are truly emotional yet they also go through periods of exaltation. The revolution brought hope but difficult struggles followed too. The cinematography by Levan Paatashvili captures the beauty of Siberia's wilderness in a simple but well done manner. Black & white footage of heroic periods in Russia's 20th century history bridge the eras in the characters' lives. Director Andrei Konchalovsky wasn't afraid to show a few uneasy scenes, and there's even a bit of female nudity. Yet his direction is effective and he succeeded in telling an absorbing epic of an interesting time in Russia's history. The film is known for Eduard Artemyev's memorable electronic score. The score was even released internationally, and I heard a piece of it in CNN's Cold War (1998) documentary. Siberiade won the Special Grand Jury Prize at the 1979 Cannes Film Festival, and I highly recommend seeing it.

I was young film student in 1979 when the Union of the Soviet Filmmakers came to Sofia Bulgaria and premiered Konchalovsky's "Siberiade"; Tarkosvky's "Stalker" and Danelia'a "Autumn marathon". I was stunned by the cosmopolitan dimension of the art form. Then and only then, I saw "Siberiade" 4 and 1/2 hours epic and was speechless. Way better then Bertolucci's "1900". By far!

Hope Andron will somehow get to the negative and make "director's restored version full lenght " someday! On DVD of course! Also I fiercely fought in defense of this Cinema against most of my colleagues who were equating Soviet film with bad taste! Time is on my side.