Into the Screening Room

Katyn

Directed by Andrzej Wajda

The 1940 Soviet massacre of over 20,000 Polish internees, including some 12,000 officers in Katyn forest, was, by any measure, a horrific war crime, yet one that has never been prosecuted, and one that has been shrouded and confused over the past half century by coverups, propaganda and a general desire to forget the past. (The Soviet government did not officially admit that the killings were ordered by Stalin until 1990.)

Wajda’s masterful film centers on this dismal episode by revealing the webs of commitment and interaction that connect disparate lives – from an impetuous youth, to the staid wife of an executed general. Most all of the movie is an examination of these connections, of how lies and fabrications feed terror, of how in war there are seldom good choices between right and wrong. Only in the closing minutes, after all the victims have been deeply humanized, is the brutal, machine-like horror of the killings brought to center stage. The effect is powerful and profound.

The misty cinematography, in hues of brown and grey, evokes the mood and texture of wartime. Characters are richly drawn, and if at times the sudden introduction of new faces is confusing, it is only until one realizes Wajda’s intent: these people could be any of us.

Alexandra

Directed by Alexander Sokurov

There is a plodding self-absorption to Sokurov’s films that can make them impenetrable or, at times, maddening. That said, there are surely many fans of his art – he counts 17 films and twice as many documentaries.

The story line for Alexandra is simple: Alexandra Nikolayevna (Galina Vishnevskaya) goes to visit her grandson, a captain serving in Chechnya. She stays in the military compound, roams the tents, observes life among the troops, wanders to the market, befriends a Chechen woman, and in general witnesses the alien, emotionless life of the Russian military. Exhausted and demoralized, she departs for home as her son heads off on another mop-up operation.

Sokurov’s laconic, realist style is well-suited to this tale, where everything seems to be brown or dusty green, where nothing much happens, though we sense that somewhere near, just beyond the range of the camera, something soon will. Alexandra wants something better, wants to live near her son, to be at peace. She will attain none of this, but she will have a brief time of tenderness with her grandson.

Filmed inside Chechnya under siege-like conditions, Alexandra is a striking film. Though the overt, spoken anti-war statements come across as trite and forced, this is overshadowed by powerful visuals. And Vishnevskaya (widow of Mstislav Rostropovich) is superb as the tired Alexandra, endearing with her ceaseless mumblings, forgetfulness and deeply feeling heart.

Tulpan

Directed by Sergey Dvortsevoy

Dense with the realism and light humor of daily existence, Tulpan at times has the feel of a documentary, yet it is a touching fictional tale about finding one’s place in the world.

Asa returns from naval service and has expansive dreams of a free and prosperous life on the Kazakh steppe. For them to come true, his brother-in-law must give him a starter herd, he must find a wife in a desert devoid of humans, and he must earn his stripes as a herder. Asa is impatient, does not fit in, and seems powerless to realize his dreams. When he is pushed to the brink, ready to give up on his dream, he has a transforming experience of life and rebirth.

Dvortsevoy films with a patient eye (Tulpan took four years to film), turning the gritty landscape into a character in the film, helping to convey the utter isolation (but not hopelessness) of life on the barren steppe. This is a quixotic and delightful tale of self-discovery that offers a vivid look at what life is like in this secluded corner of the world.

The Singing Revolution

Directed by James Tusty and
Maureen Castle Tusty

Few nations suffered as much under the Soviets, proportionately, as Estonia. After a hard won independence in 1920, followed by almost two decades of freedom, the year 1939 and the Molotov-Ribbentrop Pact brought a massive Soviet invasion, executions, deportations, denunciations and arrests. Then, in 1941, the Nazis took their turn. In 1944, the Soviets returned, initiating a post-war policy of Russian colonization of the tiny republic.

Through it all, this documentary shows, Estonians had their music, and the power of song played a crucial role in sustaining and expressing their national unity. It was even more significant in helping make the inevitable 1991 revolution more peaceful than it well could have been.

There is no suspense in this documentary – the outcome is well known. But the personal stories of the participants, of those who resisted decades of national repression, who survived the camps, who fought occupation from the forests, make this film a marvel. That and the incredible image of tens of thousands of Estonians singing in one voice.

Behind closed doors

WWII: Stalin, the Nazis and the West

PBS, May 6,13 & 20, 2009

This fascinating dramatic documentary examines the personal relationships and secret meetings that shaped the course and outcome of World War II. While new revelations are few and hardly earth-shattering, the manner of presentation – mixing archived films and interviews with dramatic interpretations of summit meetings and key events – makes this an entertaining, engaging series.

Extremely compelling is the use of native actors (instead of Americans or Brits mangling foreign languages), led by the distinguished Russian actor Alexei Petrenko (who, over a 40-year career has played everyone from Svidrigailov to Peter I to Rasputin) in the role of Stalin (pictured above). The dramatic renditions are all the more fascinating when heard in the original language, as in Churchill’s exchange with Stalin:

Churchill: What did you do with all the kulaks?

Stalin: Мы их перебили. (We terminated them.)

As with any serialized documentary Behind Closed Doors often suffers from repetition of scripts and imagery across episodes, but this is overshadowed by the well-drawn characterizations, be it Stalin’s Georgian-accented Russian, Ribbentrop’s contemptuous gaze, Churchill’s inane analogies, or Roosevelt’s yearning to be liked.