Le quarante et unième

This is a very nice story, love and war story. This is a war movie without violence. In all the movie you see only three shoots. A great end for a great movie. It shows that war films can be done without blood everywhere.

wise use of close-up.wonderful images. pure poetry. a special vision about war and love. all of that makes it more than propaganda tool but an impressive expression of profound art. it is a film about values and beauty, choices and ideals. realistic, cruel, full of subtle symbols - the desert, the isle -, mark of a great director and science of nuances from two impressive actors. the story is only basic point for respect the ideological commands. but the skin of this nucleus has the rare virtue to make it more than piece of a period. the final dialog between lovers , the end, the boat in storm and near the isle, each is a precious ingredient for an universal message about duty and choices, far to basic triumphal message of regime.

Grigori Chukhrai's film, The Forty First, sets itself up to be understood as a mythic series of events; the opening scene's churning waves seem to take the viewer away to a different world and the narration sets the story in the post-Revolutionary Civil War. This narration gives the effect of a story being told, and the way the landscape is portrayed creates an unreal landscape. The colors always seem too saturated and the sky hangs close and heavy over the actors, giving the appearance of a fish bowl. Maryutka's inclusion in the plot attests to the Bolshevik ideal of gender equality, making a break with Stalinism's reinstatement of traditional gender roles; her being referred to as an "Amazon" enhances the mythic quality of the film. Chukhrai consciously constructs shots that juxtapose; the scene of Maryutka and the White Army lieutenant walking separate on the beach contrasts the two in space as they both walk in different points of the frame in different directions. The final scenes are obviously ideological: the dialogue is crafted as a metaphor for Tsarist Russia and Communist Russia, with the lieutenant (Tsarism) pleading Maryutka (Communism) to return to how they were before the fighting; the officer's dangling cross necklace is an ever-present symbol of Imperial Russia, designating that even when all visual indicators of partisanship are gone (as he and Maryutka's uniforms have been destroyed by the elements), there is still an irreconcilable difference present. The last scene illustrates the valuation of duty over emotions. Besides the smartly handled ideology, the visual effects are The Forty First's strengths. The color palette and the contrasts it creates are striking, and create a hazy, dreamlike world in which a legend is played out.

What a beautiful film. And the music score is unforgettable. I watch the film maybe 25 years ago; rewatched it today. Not only I remembered the plot, I also remembered the music. There are not many films of which I can say the same.

The feature debut of Soviet Union director Grigoriy Chukhray (who would subsequently acquire international fame for BALLAD OF A SOLDIER in 1959, his second feature), THE FORTY-FIRST is a potentially engrossing romance happens in the two warring parties during the Russian civil war, a Red Army sniper Maria (Izvitskaya) and a White Army officer Lieutenant Vadim (Strizhenov).

The storyline is straightforward and linear, based on the eponymous novel by Boris Lavrenyev. Maria is among a defeated Red Army unit, leaded by Commissar Yevsyukov (Kryuchkov), she is a marks-woman, who has already claimed forty lives of her enemies. On their route to retreat in Karakum Desert, the group captures Vadim, aka. the titular forty-first which miraculously survives Maria's bullet, who is carrying a secret oral message to a White Army general, so they keep him as a captive and the Commissar puts him under Maria's guard. When they finally arrives at the Aral Sea, Maria and two other soldiers are entrusted to take Vadim on a boat to their headquarter in Kazaly, but stormy weather causes the boat stranded on a nameless island, and only Maria and Vadim have survived. The seclusion becomes a hotbed for their mutual affection which has engendered throughout their journey to bloom, Maria's nurturing nature, her passion for writing verses and aspiring to acquiring further education and Vadim's erudite knowledge, his "dangerous" blue eyes, bring them closer, not as sworn enemies, but two tender souls, a scintillating paragraph, where they finally embrace and smooch, after Vadim tells her the story of Robinson Crusoe and jokes that she is his "Man Friday". They share the most joyous time on the island, in spite of their ideological disparity of war and life, it is something they must adjust and reconcile for the sake of their love, and at one time, it seems working, they are frank to each other and decide to face the uncertain future together, a happy-ending beckons when a boat is approaching to rescue them, but the climax arrives so abrupt and emotionally manipulative in the coda, when the true identity of the boat is revealed, Maria's almost spontaneous reflex brings a poignant doom to the pair of star-crossed lovers, echoes the portentous title.

From the gaping geographical shifting, starts in the desert, to the choppy Aral Sea, terminates on the isolated island, perpetually under an indigo shade, Chukhray emerges as a staunch craftsman in grappling with the diversity of locations, also revels in bestowing an ethnographic touch with its disinterested depiction of Auls people. More bracingly, considering it time, the film is pluckily against the grain of the propaganda exploitation in the Soviet industry at then, humanises the image of a White Army officer, and inspires audience to empathise the genuine affection regardless of their political beliefs, even though the ending could be read as a heroic feat of the loyalty to the Red Army, more resoundingly yet inconspicuously, one cannot help but becoming cognizant of the detrimental power which a radical code of belief can afflict on its subject, to brainwash them, to call on unconditional sacrifice with no bottom-line. Rather than arguing whether the Red or the White serves as the object of Chukhray's admonition, it seems to me, the real deal is the war itself, a diabolical act disguised as a manifestation of patriotism with disastrous outcome, but in essence, only capitalised on by those few warmongers for some elephant-in-the- room self-serving interests, yet, the same thing continues to repeat itself, again and again, no end is in sight. As for the film itself, my admiration is ample and well-grounded.