Le soleil blanc du désert

I think the "best USSR movie ever" misses the point. This is certainly not the best movie, it wasn't even supposed to do all that well in the theaters when it was first made and released. I don't think anyone ever foresaw its success. However for some reason it just works; audiences identified with it and loved it.

White sun of the desert is a classic western. You don't have to know history of the Soviet Revolution to recognize a western when you see one, for this is exactly the soviet adaptation of the genre. Not only that, but the plot of this movie is just great.

I first saw this film when I was a kid (and numerous times since then), and even though I haven't seen it in a while, even with subtitles, you can't go wrong. I'd rate it 3rd best western along with "The Good, The bad, and the Ugly", "High Noon", and "A bullet for the General."

I have seen the impact that the American Western had on the Italians ("The Good, the Bad, and the Ugly") and now I have seen its influence of the Russians. This "Ostern" tackles the subject matter of civil war, bigamy, and death with a wonderful lack of pretense that is expected from a John Wayne movie; all that has changed are the ideologies. With a little more in common with "Lawrence of Arabia" than just sand the movie focuses on an unextraordinary man forced to rise to the occasion of being a hero. The lead is extremely engaging as a man who never looses his laid-back attitude even as soldiers pour oil around him and the many wives. His fidelity to his farm wife provides for the movie's highlight. He imagines his wife surrounded by the entire harem performing chores around the field. The clashing of East and... well, further East provides for many comical situations. The way the harem acts around the men in the museum is countered by the men lusting after them.

It is an unbreakable tradition that Russian cosmonauts and foreign guests watch this movie the day before they blast off aboard a Soyuz rocket from Baikonur Cosmodrome. Apart from the cultural significance this indicates, it shows where the heart and the spirit of the movie lie, where and how White Sun of the Desert transcends whatever genre it might be filed under and comes on its own.

A soldier returning home to his wife through the desert is entrusted by a regiment of the Red Army with escorting the harem of a local bandit, Black Abdullah, while the regiment looks for him. Things get complicated when he takes them to a nearby village by the Caspian sea where Abdullah arrives shortly after.

An attempt at a genre classification of White Sun of the Desert gives the term Ostern or eastern, the Soviet equivalent of the western. In some ways there is a resemblance, the landscape, horses, guns and bandits but the absurdity of the plot itself would feel more at ease in a crazed spaghetti western like Blindman than a John Ford western, and the feeling and mood belongs to a whole different worldview, with different sensibilities from either American or Italian westerns. To borrow a Japanese term, the mood of the movie carries some Russian form of "shushigaku", the sadness of things, as if all things and men carry within them an inherent sadness and all joy is not without the shadow of death. Being Balcan myself, I can see Emir Kusturicha in all this.

In that sense White of the Desert is like a desert carnival, an absurd adventure with comedic undertones through which blows a breeze of sadness, regret, loss and yearning. An old customs officer that realizes his life lost meaning the day he stopped caring and that he has to make a final stand and redeem himself, his wife that wanders the beach like a lost animal, her life meaningless without her husband, Sayid, a random encounter the hero Sukhov digs out of the desert, who is looking for the man who killed his father, nothing else having any importance or worth in his life, Sukhov himself a soldier returning home to his wife through the desert after years of war, Abdullah's harem who feel stranded and alone without their man even though he is a bandit and murderer of men and they can't comprehend how Sukhov can only have one wife.

And then you have the desert and the Caspian landscape. It surrounds everything with a mystical quality all its own, like everything happens in some corner of the world no one will ever know about and one day the sand will cover everything or the last man will just go out wandering in the desert and leave the small village behind forever, like Shukov does in the end of the movie. I have a weird fascination with the desert for this reason exactly, because deserts are places that have exhausted their future and thus have an inherent existential quality. I think this is personified in the three old men with white beards that sit at the bottom of a wall, barely speaking a word the entire movie, like an ancient lifeform that is now one with the land.

What really makes White Sun of the Desert so good is that what I mentioned above may exist only in my mind. It's never self conscious about what it does, never explicit in its symbolism and drama or calling attention to itself as anything more than a purely entertaining adventure romp. The comedic timing is good in that old fashioned way, the locations are beautiful, the acting is neat and the action is OK but nothing to write home about. It's the mood that makes the difference here though and for that alone it deserves a watch or two. Strongly recommended.

Being completely agree with all other comments, I can add a simple explanation what a cult movie it is. Every time when a manned spaceship is launched in Russia, it's team watches Beloye Solntse Pustyni right before takeoff. It's a tradition they never forgive. Even Dennis Tito had to watch it, together with other crew members, yet he probably had no translation or subtitles.

I's, oh, so wonderful film. I saw it for the first time in my 19, in 1971 in small bioscope in Poland. Soviet film were not very wanted by the teenagers but it was long, dull summer and I haven't nothing better to do. And, what a surprise - film full of humor, action and irony. Song sung by me beloved Bulat Okudzava. After a long, long time I've seen it again in 2000 (You know , Soviet films were almost banned in Polish democracy. A moment of anxiety how it will be work and - ohhh, same feelings, same thrills, same chills. No, not the same, even deeper.