Showing posts with label Anton Chekhov. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Anton Chekhov. Show all posts

September 5, 2012

Day 53/56 - Elena (2011)



According to the IMDB website, "It all started when a British producer proposed a project with four films made by four different directors, all touching upon the topic of apocalypse. For about a month, director Andrey Zvyagintsev and screenwriter Oleg Negin looked for a plot and found 'two or three curious concepts,' but then Negin phoned Zvyagintsev one night and suggested they should meet. At the meeting, he told Zvyagintsev almost the complete plot of the future film. The story is based on an incident from Negin's life."

[Spoilers]  Elena begins with a lengthy close-up of a tree outside a condo in a Russian city. In the tree sits an unmoving crow. There is no music and no apparent action other than the camera slowly racking focus from foreground branches to the background of the condo. Just as a second bird arrives on the tree, the director/author Andrey Zvyagintsev cuts to a long shot in the elegant Scandinavian-looking modern apartment.  The audience is used to faster cuts and shorter establishing shots during a film’s opening. Where Zvyagintsev takes close to 30 beats, Americans would have compressed them into 15 beats. Since the only ambient sound is the crowing of the birds, we wait expectantly for something to happen. We see the main character Elena (beautifully and richly played by Nadezhda Markina) asleep in her separate bedroom. She opens her eyes and then rather slowly gets up and begins her daily routine. She has done this over and over, and there is no sense of joy seen. She awakens her husband of two years in his bedroom and fixes him breakfast while he shaves and dresses. Nothing much happens for the first fifteen minutes. For me this was a very Russian film in mood and pacing. We are sitting in Anton Chekhov’s world reset in a modern Soviet city.

As writers like Chekhov in the 1880s developed their view of Naturalism, they called for a new drama which would not follow the dramatic gestures of the Classical period. Says an enotes.com essay:

 Affected by the past, leading to some unseen future, the present with all its complexities and uncertainties is the stuff of which Chekhov's plays are made. Life as it is really lived, rather than highly melodramatic and theatrical incidents, Chekhov insisted, is the proper subject for plays. "After all, in real life," he observed, "people don't spend every minute shooting at each other, hanging themselves, and making confessions of love. They don't spend all the time saying clever things. They're more occupied with eating, drinking, flirting, and talking stupidities—and these are the things which ought to be shown on the stage. A play should be written in which people arrive, go away, have dinner, talk about the weather, and play cards. Life must be exactly as it is, and people as they are.… Let everything on the stage be just as complicated, and at the same time just as simple as it is in life. People eat their dinner, just eat their dinner, and all the time their happiness is being established or their lives are being broken up." 
We can see Chekhovian elements of this in the Elena plot. Elena and her husband Vladimir (Andrey Smirnov) share a mundane breakfast. She goes shopping. She travels on various transportations. We see her and her family watch television shows which deal with, among other things, selecting the best fake sausage and how to choose a spouse.

Vladimir, Elena’s husband is rich (a retired scientist who went into business when the Soviet Union collapsed); Elena comes from a working middle class where she was a nurse until her marriage to Vladimir two years before. She argues with Vladimir over money. She wants him to loan her son Sergey (Aleksey Rozin) money. He says if they couldn’t afford to take care of their family why did they have the new baby. She points out that each of them was an accident. Vladimir shakes his head in disgust.

As they go off to their separate activities, Elena travels quite a distance to see Sergey, a son by a previous marriage who lives in a squalid low rent slum housing unit near a nuclear plant, with his wife, teenage slacker son Sasha, and baby.  When she arrives, her son is standing staring off in the distance having a cigarette. This is a man who doesn’t work. He smokes and spits off the balcony, while her slacker grandson mirrors his father by playing video games. A family living in poverty, they center their life on potato chips, nuts, and television.

Elena brings Sergey and family money, which he immediately puts part in one pocket and the money for his wife and family in another. They complain to Elena that they need a sizeable amount of money to buy grandson Sasha a way into college so he could stay out of the army. He is obviously totally unmotivated and appears pretty vacant. Elena focuses on the baby and refuses to see what her child and grandchild are really like.

Elena’s dilemma is how to get the money needed for the grandson since Vladimir is the only one seemingly with money. She tries to convince him to help, but he begrudges an earlier loan that the son has never repaid. We see her struggle with her emotions as she chastises him for helping his daughter who she feels is not worth helping, but it only makes him dig in more. Elena plays the dutiful wife and knows when to pull back.

Elena’s salvation comes when Vladimir has a heart attack at his gym in the swimming pool. She puts on a show of caring by going to a local church and asking which saint to pray to for help, but she obviously knows little of the church.

When Vladimir comes home for recovery, she returns to the role of his nurse which she had played 10 years before. He seals his fate when he tells Elena that he has decided to make out a new will giving his daughter everything and leaving only an annuity for her. He asks her to react, but he knows she won’t because she is brow-beat by him. The pragmatist Elena sees what must be done. Knowing her husband still enjoys sex, she checks out the warnings about Viagra and then gives Vladimir two pills with his daily medicine. While she waits for him to die, she shows signs of remorse but never tries to save him.  Does Elena care for Vladimir? She doesn’t allow herself to deal with those feelings. The mother instinct to protect her brood trumps whatever thoughts she manages toward her husband.

After Vladimir’s death, Elena clears the safe of all money. She learns that because Vladimir had no will, she will get an equal portion to what his daughter will inherit. She takes the cash to her son, this time riding a train. The train kills a man and his horse, but we are left hanging about how this fits the plot. At the tenement, she gives her children the money. The couple  tell her that they are expecting another baby. (I felt myself reacting like Vladimir: the son can’t work, but he can father kids he can’t support.)

The lights in the building suddenly go out. While we wait for this to take meaning, we ask whether there will finally be retribution. Will Sasha’s hooligan friends come into the darkened apartment and steal the money that was left in the kitchen? Instead, Sasha runs out to join his buddies in a rumble with another hooligan gang living by the water coolers of the power plant, and he gets beaten up. The black-out apparently serves no purpose other than to show how uncertain life is there.

At the end, Elena’s family is living with her in Vladimir’s apartment, totally out of their element. Sergey’s immediate suggestion is that they could add a wall and give Sasha his own room. The baby is left on Vladimir’s bed, an ironic touch because of Vladimir’s distain for it. The rest of the family end up grouping around the television. Sasha stands on the balcony and watches the local workers play soccer.

The film bookends with the same shot of the tree and the crows. A couple of my friends saw the ending as positive, with hope that the babies will have a better life ahead. I disagree. No one in the family other than Elena is really capable or willing to work.   One friend pointed out that Elena’s daughter will now be there  to help, but all I can see is the squalor of their earlier apartment which suggests that it hadn’t been cleaned in a long time.

For me the point is that Elena and her family are like the crows… scavengers who will opportunistically feed off others and move on. The upper class apartment has become the home for Gorky’s Lower Depths squatters.

Afterthought: of special note is the soundtrack which begins with only ambient sound, crows screeching, foley sounds of people walking, etc. About 15 minutes into the film some Phillip Glass music is played. It has a sinister, forboding sound which led many to assume something evil was going to happen. It does, but there is no sense of retribution.  Really interesting use of sound here. You get an idea of the music from the trailer below.

Elena (2011) **** (The more I've thought about this film, the more I like it.)


August 4, 2012

Day 27/29 - The Man with the Movie Camera (1929)

Mikhail Kaufman acts as the cameraman to get a shot from a moving train, from Wikipedia. Remember, these movie cameras were hand cranked, not automatic.
If you have become involved in the new technology of Instagram or Hipstamatic, you know about the variety of images that bombard you in your feed every day. I am fascinated by that immense variety. Taken together they give us an interesting view of our modern world. 

Now, imagine taking that variety of images, combining them with cinema techniques, such as film montage, split screen, double-exposure, stop-action, and you have a pretty good idea of the 68 minutes of the 1929 Russian silent film by director Dziga Vertov called The Man with the Movie Camera. 

Recently, Sight and Sound magazine did a survey and Vertov's film ranked No. 8 in 846 critics greatest films.

Vertov states at the beginning that the film is intended as "AN EXPERIMENTATION IN THE CINEMATIC COMMUNICATION OF REAL EVENTS, WITHOUT INTERTITLES, WITHOUT A SCENARIO, WITHOUT THE HELP OF THEATRE (actors, sets, etc.)" 

The cutting and pacing of the film (done by Vertov's wife, Elizabeta Svilova) often reminds me of an interview George Lucas did regarding Star Wars where he said that they experimented to see how fast they could cut from image to image and have the eye still register it. The film does the the same. With the fascination of speed and movement, there are parts that become a thrill ride of visual stimuli.

The film begins by taking us into a movie theatre where we see the projector and the audience, reminding us that this is cinema.

The film is primarily urban based. Vertov (and his cameraman, Mikhail Kaufman) show us a full visual dictionary of Russian life, filled with store windows, mannikins, trolleys, posters, people working, pistons, mailmen, crowds, cars, factories. The camera is constant throughout. Never are we to assume he is not there. In one early sequence we see a horse-drawn carriage and its occupants, then we see the cameraman, then we see shots of the cameraman with the carriage and its occupants. As we get into the pacing of the horse running, we suddenly stop and see still photographs and eventually photographs of the film strips themselves and Elizabeta cutting them into sequences.

The editor has a wonderful sense of juxtaposition of themes and variations, mixed with irony. A couple register a wedding, another registers a divorce, a woman gives birth, a funeral carriage bears the open casket of a young man surrounded by flowers.

We see fingernails being worked on, women's hair being cut, makeup and eyebrows being applied, and move on to see sewing and counting money; newspaper printing cuts to a woman who creates cigarette packages and eventually hands packing cigarettes into the same packages.

We see the ever-present cameraman on top of trucks, trains, cranes over dams, deep in coal mines and factory iron vats.

We move from people learning to swim, to relaxing at the beach, to a newspaper layout and a whole montage on sports--among others, jumping hurdles, horse racing, diving, basketball, soccer, motorcycle racing, often in slow motion.

In a beer garden there is a trick shot of the cameraman in a beer glass, people drinking, bottles of beer and wine. These lead to shot of a woman at a shooting arcade, shooting at a metal woman with a swastika on her head (perhaps the only image for me that truly locks the viewer into the time period).

Near the end, there are more and more pictures of the cinema where we started with the cameraman seen in various shots. Often the cutting here is from images of action to static, almost still pictures of people reacting. 

As much a part of the film as anything is the musical soundtrack played by The Alley Orchestra, using a full range of instruments, along with bottles, spoon, washboards, pie pans, bells, all supporting the moods of the various montages. [Note, the musical score in the YouTube version of the film is not the one I heard, which was supposedly based on the original. Like Metropolis, you can find various versions, each making the experience slightly different.]

The film is indeed "pure cinema." It reminds me of what Anton Chekhov states regarding his view of a naturalistic theatre: 
After all, in real life, people don't spend every moment in shooting one another, hanging themselves, or making declarations of love. They do not spend all their time saying clever things. They are more occupied with eating, drinking, flirting, and saying stupidities. these are the things which ought to be shown on the stage. A play should be written in which people arrive, depart, have dinner, talk about the weather, and play cards. Life must be exactly as it is and people as they are. Let everything on the stage be just as complicated, and at the same time just as simple, as in life. People eat their dinner, just eat their dinner, and all the time their happiness is taking form, or their lives are being destroyed.
Vertov has shown us that world which has disappeared.

The Man with the Movie Camera (1929) ***** (iTunes or YouTube)