J'ai vingt ans

This film is art. Like the Battleship Potiomkin, this Russian film doesn't aim at being an easy film, made to entertain and to fill people's brains with sugary dullness. It's its credibility, the Soviet neo-realism that it uses, which strikes. The way in which the film aims to show what Russia was like, in the Communist years. It's a situation hard to understand for a Western civilization. Russian patriotism, their intelligentsia and daily reality of work, study and vodka.

Which is why maybe, seen from a Western point of view, this movie may be not only hard to understand but also hard to follow as far as the concept of time is concerned. It remains a mystery in fact, how the characters find time to do everything or almost everything in one way. How people give strangers none, just by asking. How people seem to be so different, as well as their culture.

But that's not entirely to hold against the movie. It's the international realism that bites back the improbability of the film. The problems of 20 year olds, the silent struggle for political diversity, shown by the poets and their poems, and the struggle to cross the line to adulthood.

The photography is sublime. The voice overs that carry the movie away are profoundly extraordinary. Sergej looks at the sky and says "There is so much peace in the cosmos". Or the dance in the dark ballroom, Anja holding the candles which slowly become the only source of light. It's all very artistically deep, and it's strange how this film can hold the test of time.

Not to mention the chase scene, where Sergej follows Anya, unwilling to accept the fact that their relationship cannot end to being a simple encounter on a bus. Then there's the element of the friendship, challenged by aging.

It's not Soviet cinema at its best. Occasionally, the movie slows the pace down and becomes too much to bear. For example, the poetry scene is profound and meaningful, but much too long. The silent walks around Moscow are beautiful and suggestive, but again, always too long, although they unfold great and innovative camera work.

But it's one to see, because regardless of the fact that it's almost too meaningful, it's a good watch that draws you and drives you to thinking.

WATCH FOR THE MOMENT - When Sergej meets his father, who died in the WWII, and talks to him. The scene involves the atheist beliefs of Communism but at the same time signals to us that some sort of hope is there.

Very beautifully shot 1960s Moscow, in both its most quiet and lively moments, with at times very fun to watch camera work by Margarita Pilikhina.

Unfortunately, I think some of the film's essence was lost in translation for me though - meaning actual translation that sometimes was hard to follow semantically, a lack of societal context to fully comprehend political allusions and not having been exposed to soviet films and storytelling all that much before. Might have to rewatch at some point.

Certain diegetic accents were a little surprising or confusing to me, (especially the end felt foreign and didn't really tie in smoothly with the rest of the movie) which also made it difficult to connect to the main characters at times - the chasing scene (omg) and the way women and marriage are being discussed, didn't necessarily make that easier.

*watched a slightly shorter finnish copy of the original.

I've always thought that a lot of films that were made in the Soviet Union got overshadowed by Eisenstein and Tarkovsky, not to mention by European films from France, Italy, by Bergman, by Kurosawa and many others from Japan. I feel sad when I think about that, because there are so many great films that were made there that the general film loving public did not and does not get to see. The only two films that may have broken out of this "embargo", so to speak were The Cranes are Flying and Ballad of a Soldier. Criterion has been doing some good deed and releasing a few of such great films I speak of in the Eclipse Series and I only hope they keep releasing them because there are just too many to list that others must see.

I Am Twenty is one of those films. It was made during the de-Stalinization period, otherwise known as the Krushchev thaw where people had a short period of freedom of speech, which Hutsiev, the film's director utilized in making of this film, where the story centers on three friends in their 20's going through a sort of a quarter-life crisis in the Soviet Union, worrying about such things as where to live, means of getting money, and exactly what to do with their lives - which at the time was unheard of - one of the reasons for which Krushchev condemned this film during the end of the thaw (when it was being released) and most certainly which contributed to this film's censorship.

This undoubtedly is the kind of film that speaks the universal language, which I hope would be an intriguing watch for people who can track this film down and watch it (there are English subtitles for it, I checked)

Shot beautifully, flows poetically, and definitely leaves a mark.

I loved it [07-22-2011, 08:23 PM]

In illustrating the freedom of the Thaw, I Am Twenty meanders along unconstrained, with little resolution, and seems more like a series of vignettes than a coherent story. The camera angles are almost always close-fitting and create a sense of claustrophobia; the frame is surrounded by corners. In the midst of a cultural shift towards a more free nation (in Western terms), there is still a feeling of being enclosed. This makes scenes in which the shot is open seem all the more freeing. For example, when Sergei walks empty city streets in the morning, the sky takes up half the frame. This scene feels fresh and relieving in comparison to the rest of the film. Increased consumerism is clear, as one friend of Sergei's says he has gotten used to consumerism "like crazy". American influences are everywhere: in the music, the advertisements, and the styles of young Muscovites; Russia's character is still very much present, however. St. Vasily's Cathedral is prominent in the background of shots, and it is the famous Russian Alexander Pushkin's "Autumn" that is read aloud over one scene. I Am Twenty is not just a portrait of 1960's Russia, it is specifically a portrait of young Russians, who were the first generation to really live outside of the events of the early Soviet Union and WWII. Khutsiev portrays them is as aimless, but not hopeless. The camera work that encloses them is meticulously constructed and light is smartly utilized in every frame to provide a bright picture, despite the enclosed nature of the shot. The focus seems more on the situational than the psychological, in comparison to Kalatazov's Cranes Are Flying or Tarkovsky's Ivan's Childhood. Overall, I Am Twenty provides a smart and accessible picture of Russian life, albeit a picture that meanders an hour or so too long.

I can't comment too much on the full movie. I am not a movie expert and it it has been several years since I saw it. Overall I found it to be an interesting and surprising view on Moscow in the early sixties. The way Moscow is presented it is not much different than any Western European town in the same period. On the other side, young people are young people with their own, but similar, problems everywhere in the world. This comment is about one particular scene. The chase sequence with Anya through Moscow is fantastic. I had seen parts of it on Dutch TV in a movie programme and made sure I saw the full movie when it showed in an art cinema. It builds up expectations until the crucial scene in the stairway where the male protagonist gets close to Anya, but in the end lets her slip away. Beautifully shot in black and white, melancholy and promise captured together.