Olhos Negros

It's a movie in the best Mikhalkov's manner: simple but deep; funny and serious; a Russian picture with (this time) Italian colors; and as always, about the deepest depth of a Russian soul. Some may say, Mikhalkov's movies are of universal things - true, but they always touch something deeply Russian. Waiting ... love ... faith ... sincerity. When all that meets in one point, harmony and happiness come; when at least one element is missing, ... Romano comes. With all the consequences. Mikhalkov reminded me again - we live by the consequences of our actions. (i need to add a bit - they asked for the 10th line here :) BUT quantity is not quality!)

A Russian/Italian co-production sounds like an uneasy marriage of mismatched temperaments, but 'Dark Eyes' is a remarkably cohesive mutual effort offering the best of both worlds: a wonderfully romantic story, a healthy love of laughter and high spirits, and a lingering air of Slavic melancholy. It's being sold as a showcase for the perennial charm of Marcello Mastroianni, but the film has more than just his performance to recommend it. The script, condensed from several tales by Anton Chekhov, has the elegant simplicity of a classic short story, following a charming but buffoonish husband in his pursuit of an attractive young Russian back to her native country, where he discovers a nation of people even crazier than he is. Some of the smaller roles have been drawn for the broadest effect, but under Nikita Mikhalkov's meticulous direction every character emerges as a full blooded human being, with Mastroianni himself offering a sensitive portrait of a man too in love with life to take it seriously. A nagging reservation: the final irony revealed in the epilogue adds one coincidence too many, and comes close to spoiling the already poignant mood. Just pretend it never happened.

There are many wondrous qualities to this movie, especially the performance of Marcello Mastroianni. I only want to mention one scene, my favorite. It occurs when Romano (Mastroianni) arrives by train in the Russian village of Sisoev where he is to set up a glass factory.

Upon de-training all he sees is a peasant woman with a cow. Suddenly, on the other side of the tracks a band plays. Romano walks across the welcome-carpet to a crowd of townspeople giving him a raucous reception. Actually folks here want the factory for themselves . The Italian is offered Russian bread to sample. Young girls bear doves and present the man with wreaths. The mayor recites a poem and gives a welcome speech. A medal is bestowed. Kisses galore are planted.

Singers and balalaika players appear. Caviar and lethal vodka is thrust upon the man, who is barely able to cope with its potency. It's a distillation (pun intended) of Russian-ness which overwhelms the guest as he is conducted by carriage to his hotel and carried in, tired and soused, later muttering "Sabatchka," the name of the little dog belonging to Anna, the Russian girl that has aroused his passion. Great, great!

This Russian-Italian co-production from 1987 finds two older men, one Italian, the other Russian, talking in the empty dining hall of a slow ocean liner. The Italian tells his story in flashback, as we see him fight with his rich wife, which sends him to a health spa to recuperate, where he meets a bored, young and beautiful Russian woman who is herself unhappily married. After many overtures toward a romance, the Russian wife flees back home, and the Italian follows her, ostensibly on business, but truly in hopes of sparking the romance further.

The film is gorgeously photographed, and much attention is paid to costume and set design, as well as delicate color schemes. Marcello Mastroianni received his final of three Best Actor Oscar nominations for this, and he's wonderful as usual. Silvano Mangano plays his wife, and Marthe Keller appears as a family friend. I wasn't familiar with the Russian leads, Elena Safonova and Vsevolod Larionov, but they are fine as well. The story drags a bit in places, and lengthy passages of Russian without subtitles started to detract after a while (I'm not sure if this was the fault of the print I watched, or if it was intentional, to show the language barrier faced by Mastroianni's character).

I consider this movie a masterpiece. The performance of Marcello Mastroianni is simply sublime, one of the best I have ever seen from anyone, anywhere. Yes, the surface plot is about adultery, but the story is much more than that. I think this is a story about a man, an old man near the end of his life, looking back on his playboy, vagabond, good-for-nothing life, regretting it, but not knowing any other way to live. "Mother's lullaby and the Russian mist" is all he remembers about his own life, he says. Watch this old man cry, and it stirs you with all kinds of emotions and thoughts, makes you think about how you should live, that tragedy happens everyday, to every small man who must fend for himself and fail. You tell yourself you will never be like him, you pity him, disrespect him, despise him, but in the end you understand this man in the most profound sense. And you will never be able to forget that Russian mist either. Superb.