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Films From Along the Silk Road
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Without Fear |
Orator/Voiz |
Daughter In Law |
Presented by Seagull Films and the Film Society of Lincoln Center .
This program is made possible through the generosity and support of the
Open Society Institute (OSI) with special thanks to Anthony Richter.
Thanks also go to: Soros Foundation-Kazakhstan, Soros
Foundation-Kyrgyzstan, OSI Tadjikistan and OSI Uzbekistan. Special
assistance by the Embassies of the United States of America in
Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Kyrgyzstan.
This program is curated by Alla Verlotsky and Kent Jones.
Between the Middle East and the western Chinese border lies a vast
stretch of the continent that has barely registered on the western
cultural radar. This is the world where Genghis Khan ruled, and through
which the great trade route called the Silk Road ran. The five former
Soviet Asian republics are known to some as "the stans" - Turkmenistan,
Tadjikistan, Kyrgyzstan, Kazakhstan and Uzbekistan, linked by
geographical proximity yet each possessed of its own unique culture. And
its own distinctive national cinema.
Chances are you've never heard of most of the films in this series, the
first comprehensive retrospective of movies from this cinematically rich
corner of the world. You may wonder why. The reason is nothing more or
less than an accident of history. When the Soviet Union collapsed, so
did the apparatus for the promotion and distribution of films from
Central Asia. Every time the films have surfaced, it's been the result
of a titanic effort on the part of a few valiant scholars, programmers,
and festival organizers. But the films are worth the effort. These
countries are as culturally rich as they are cash poor, and the films,
from throughout the region, are hand-crafted wonders, rich in artistic
and poetic miracles.
As a special feature of this series, we are paying tribute to the late
Kyrgyz director Tolomush Okeev, one of the greatest "open-air"
filmmakers who ever worked in the medium. We will also be showing
WITHOUT FEAR and MAN FOLLOWS BIRDS, two extraordinary films by the Uzbek
master Ali Khamraev, not to be missed. We are also featuring a special
presentation of TAKHIR AND ZUKHRA, an enchanting 1944 Uzbek film that
will leave you breathless.
ORATOR / VOIZ
Yusup Razikov, Uzbekistan, 2000; 83m
Yusup Razikov's crystal-clear and mordantly funny political comedy gets
right to the heart of the bizarre mismatch between Soviet communist
aspirations and human realities. In the early 1920s, a gentle Uzbek man
who inherits three adoring young wives from his late brother is
unexpectedly called to the stage during a rally, and reveals a gift for
oratory. He is catapulted into the absurd and often treacherous world of
Soviet politics, and keeps on speechifying to protect himself and his
beloved wives. Every new twist in this colorful, theatrically stylized
film nudges the hero and the viewer to another level of strangely
twisted logic.
preceded by
THE THREAD / NIT
Sergey Alibekov, Uzbekistan, 1989; 10m
A sinuously beautiful animated short from Uzbekistan, with the odd
clarity of a dream.
BOYS IN THE SKY / MALCHIKI V NEBE
Zoulfikar Musakov, Uzbekistan, 2002; 86m
Zoulfikar Musakov's gentle comedy about four teenage boys growing up in
Tashkent is modeled on the Fellini of Amarcord, a series of loosely
connected sketches that catch the beauty, the pain, the joy and the
confusion of adolescence. There are hilarious episodes: a visit to a
video boutique with an animated tribute to action cinema from the
overenthusiastic proprietor; a disastrous ride in a "borrowed" Mercedes;
a birthday celebration with a sense of adolescent awkwardness, ending
with the director's son Tahir doing a rousing homage to Michael Jackson;
a look at a pirated copy of Emmanuelle. Musakov's movie has been playing
to sold-out audiences in Tashkent for months, and it's no wonder why:
with its freewheeling, lovably antic spirit, BOYS IN THE SKY could have
been made by the four friends themselves.
preceded by
THERE ARE HORSES / ETO LOSHADI
Tolomush Okeev, Kyrgyzstan, 1965; 10m
Tolomush Okeev, Kyrgyzstan, 1965; 10m
Okeev's very first film as he was graduating from his Mosfilm
apprenticeship consists of images and sounds of horses in motion - wild
young horses running, then being trained to race, then being herded
together. A wordless documentary, THERE ARE HORSES is a film of truly
elemental beauty (shown on May 24 at 1 & 9 and May 25 at 7 only).
WITHOUT FEAR / BEZ STRAKHA
Ali Khamraev, Uzbekistan, 1972; 96m
A Uzbek Red Army officer in the 1920s is in charge of his local village.
His task is modernization, and one of the first, gigantic steps is to
allow women to drop their veils and enlighten themselves. A brave
teenage girl offers to step forward and set the example, setting off a
series of charged, tragic encounters from which no one, from the
soldier's young bride to his militant father-in-law to the intransigent
mullahs, emerges unscathed. Shot in crisp black-and-white and written by
the estimable (and, during this period of Soviet filmmaking, seemingly
omnipresent) Andrei Konchalovsky, WITHOUT FEAR is at once
philosophically lucid, melodramatically engaging and altogether
electrifying. Director Ali Khamraev is a master, whose political acumen
and cinematic intelligence are in perfect balance. This timely film has
a Brechtian edge: each sharply rendered detail cuts like a knife.
LAST HOLIDAY / POSLEDNIYE KANIKULY
Amir Karakulov, Kazakhstan, 1996; 65m
May Day in Alma Ata, 1979. Valera, Karim and Jacob are a crew of
hard-partying, drug-taking teenagers looking for kicks during their
spring holiday, and they break into the bar at the Highland ice rink and
steal an electric guitar. When Valera's dad finds the guitar, he turns
his son over to the police, who brutalize him and leave him severely
wounded on the outskirts of town. Karim and Jacob kill Valera's father,
then hide their friend and do their best to keep him alive. In scarcely
more than an hour, Amir Karakulov's precise, beautifully minimal film
offers a portrait of an entire society through the lens of disaffected
adolescence, at the beginning of the end of the Soviet Union.
preceded by
ANTI-ROMANTIKA
Nariman Turebaev, Kazakhstan, 2002; 16m
A young man leaves his one-room apartment and comes back with a gorgeous
prostitute. What happens next is about as perfect an embodiment of the
title as it's possible to imagine. A tough little comic gem, emotionally
precise and drily funny.
MAN FOLLOWS BIRDS / CHELOVEK UKHODIT ZA PTITSAMI
Ali Khamraev, Uzbekistan, 1975; 87m
A young boy gets a brutal sentimental education under the open skies of
medieval Uzbekistan. Ali Khamraev's stylistic tour de force is almost
unclassifiable - a mystic vision, an eastern western, a pageant of color
and movement, a portrait of adolescence painted in broad,
expressionistic strokes. MAN FOLLOWS BIRDS moves from one sumptuous
moment to the next - rides through ecstatically colored landscapes, a
trio of friends waking up covered in apple blossoms, the hero imagining
his beautiful and long-dead mother in images that have an abstract power
and beauty. A movie that truly deserves the word "visionary."
THE DAUGHTER-IN-LAW / NEVESTKA
Khodjakuli Narliev, Turkmenistan, 1972; 81m
Khodjakuli Narliev's plaintive cinematic poem is as delicate as a desert
breeze. A woman whose husband has been killed in WWII lives with her
father-in-law in the desert. "You've been irreproachable all these
years," he tells her - at once a compliment and a sad realization. She
cannot leave and go back to her family, because that would mean the end
of hope that her husband, a heroic pilot, might return one day. The
film, composed in rich color, is a series of encounters and memories -
the birth of a child, a visit from her brother, a plane ride with her
husband just before he went off to war - that revolve around the memory
of what was and the bittersweet image of what might have been. A
singingly beautiful film.
preceded by
THERE ARE HORSES / ETO LOSHADI
Tolomush Okeev, Kyrgyzstan, 1965; 10m
Okeev's very first film as he was graduating from his Mosfilm
apprenticeship consists of images and sounds of horses in motion - wild
young horses running, then being trained to race, then being herded
together. A wordless documentary, THERE ARE HORSES is a film of truly
elemental beauty (shown on May 21 at 1 and May 23 at 7 only).
KAIRAT
Darezhan Omirbaev, Kazakhstan, 1991; 72m
"This 34-year-old filmmaker has invented an entire universe," wrote
Jean-Michel Frodon in Le Monde, and he was right. Darezhan Omirbaev may
well have been inspired by Bresson and Hitchcock, but he has indeed
created his very own universe in the five films he's made since the late
80s. The disconnected events of his films are simple - a boy travelling
on a train from the steppe to the city, riding on a bus, going to a
movie and brushing bare arms with his date, wandering through a train
yard. But every form, every movement, every gesture seems to have found
its precise poetic place, and the emotional terrain contained within his
first feature feels as vast as an ocean. Kairat is the name of
Omirbaev's autobiographically inspired hero, who moves through life
exactly as many of us do when we're adolescents - awkwardly, in
bewildered confusion, guarding a wealth of emotions deep within us like
a buried treasure. One of the best films of the 90s.
preceded by
JULY / SCHILDE
Two boys on a hot summer afternoon on the steppe wander into a Bollywood
movie. They want to go back for the second show but don't have enough
money for a ticket, so they think up a scheme to earn the cash.
Recounting the "plot" of this glorious short film from Darezhan Omirbaev
doesn't begin to do it justice - it's as controlled a piece of
filmmaking as you could hope to find, and a beautiful evocation of the
landscape of childhood. Omirbaev was a master right from the start.
THE ADOPTED SON / BESHKEMPIR
Aktan Abdikalikov, Kyrgyzstan, 1998; 81m
Aktan Abdikalikov's first feature was a worldwide success, and it stands
as one of the finest films of the 90s. Beshkempir (played by the
director's son Mirlan) undergoes an identity crisis at the age of 13
when he learns that he is adopted. From this simple situation,
Abdikalikov creates a wondrous film of hand-crafted beauty.
"Abdikalikov's sparing use of color - clearly a matter of aesthetic
rather than financial reasons - our perception of color as well as of
black-and-white in movies: every shift between these registers is
experienced as an epiphany, a bursting re-creation of the world. When
Abdikalikov was asked what motivated this eccentric construction, he
replied that it was inspired by the way rugs in Kyrgyzstan are woven and
patched together. A lateral camera movement over one of these gorgeous
rugs in color is the film's first image, and everything that follows
conforms to this beautifully abstract pattern, much the way a musical
theme would be developed."
- Jonathan Rosenbaum
preceded by
LULLABY / ALDEY
Ernest Abdizhaparov, Kyrgyzstan, 1997; 10m
A lovely little poem about life's possibilities, rendered through the
simple but potent central idea of a man and a woman gazing at one
another through the chaotic rush of a passing train.
preceded by
THE GUARD
Beyzhan Aidkuluev, Kyrgyzstan, 1989; 10m
Beyzhan Aidkuluev's short, impressionistic portrait of an old man who
presides over his Kirghiz village like a benign spirit, and an emissary
from a past that is quickly disappearing. Aidkuluev is a filmmaker of
rare gifts, building his images and sounds into a work of incantatory
power.
DON'T CRY / JYLAMA
Amir Karakulov, Kazakhstan, 2003; 80m
Amir Karakulov's latest film is a boldly experimental departure. Shot in
intimate and colorfully vibrant DV, JYLAMA is the story of a
Chinese-trained opera singer living in a remote Kazakh village with her
grandmother and her ailing young niece. The bulk of the action consists
of the steadfast heroine trying to make enough money to get the rare and
costly medicine that may save her niece's life. What makes the film so
thrilling is that this elemental situation allows Karakulov and his cast
of non-actors to illuminate the details of everyday life: reality and
fiction dissolve into each other, and the audience achieves a heightened
awareness of simple activities like the cooking of a meal, teaching a
child to count in Chinese and English, visits to the doctor or the
marketplace. Entirely improvised by the filmmaker and his actors, JYLAMA
is one movie that puts digital technology to thrilling use.
preceded by
UMAY
Naryn Igilik, Kazakhstan, 2003; 14m
A rapturously beautiful 14-minute meditation on womanhood and the
passage of the soul from one life into the next. The film's sedate
rhythms and peacefully luminous images will leave a lasting impression.
THE SWING / SELKINCHEK
Aktan Abdikalikov, Kyrgyzstan, 1993; 48m
Aktan Abdikalikov's early masterpiece is less a narrative film than a
poetic incantation on celluloid. The almost wordless "story" is about a
young boy in a Kirghiz village, whose days are spent in the company of
an older, retarded man. Together, they push a beautiful girl on a swing.
There is joy, there is disappointment, there is death, and there is
love, all rendered with a timeless, almost otherworldly grace. preceded by
STAIRWAY IN THE HOUSE WITH AN ELEVATOR / LESTNITSA V
DOME S LIFTOM
Aman Kamchibekov, Kyrgyzstan, 1982; 27m
The only film that the immensely gifted Aman Kamchibekov completed
before his tragic death at the age of 36, STAIRWAY is a beautifully
observed, real-time comic exchange between two Kirghiz women from the
steppe, bickering their way to the top floor of a Bishkek apartment
building as people whiz past them in the elevator. preceded by
THE DOG WAS WALKING BY
Aktan Abdikalikov's 1989 short recounts the odyssey of a dog making its
way across town, encountering the highs and lows of contemporary Kirghiz
society, from the fancy, manicured pets of the middle class to the down
and dirty fights between stray dogs wandering the streets. A warning is
in order: this film realistically depicts the harsh lives of stray
animals.
preceded by
ASSAN-USSEN
Aktan Abdikalikov, Kyrgyzstan, 1997; 7m
Aktan Abdikalikov's simple, clear-eyed poetry finds an elemental form
here. Two twin brothers are walking down the road carrying a pail of
water, they fight and come to blows, and a bemused older man intervenes
and sets them back on their way. It's that simple and it's that lovely.
MARTIN SCORSESE PRESENTS: THE FALL OF OTRAR / GIBEL
OTRARA
Ardak Amirkulov, Kazakhstan, 1990; 165m
Four arduous years in the making, Ardak Amirkulov's 1990 historical epic
about the intrigue and turmoil preceding Genghis Khan's systematic
destruction of the lost East Asian civilization of Otrar is unlike
anything you've ever seen. The movie that spurred the extraordinary wave
of great Kazakh films in the 90s, Amirkulov's film is at once
hallucinatory, visually resplendent and ferociously energetic, packed
with eye-catching (and gouging) detail and B-movie fervor, and
traversing an endless variety of parched, epic landscapes and ornate
palaces. But THE FALL OF OTRAR is also one of the most astute historical
films ever made, and its high quotient of torture and gore (Italian
horror genius Mario Bava would have been envious) is always grounded in
the bedrock realities of realpolitik: when the Kharkhan of Otrar is
finally brought before the Ruler of the World, he could be facing
Stalin, or, for that matter, any number of modern CEOs. The movie that
has everything, from state-of-the-art 13th-century warfare to perfumed
sex, THE FALL OF OTRAR is a one-of-a-kind experience. Shot in a
sepia-toned black-and-white, and written by none other than Amirkulov's
old teacher Alexei Guerman and his wife, Svetlana Karmalita.
MY BROTHER SILK ROAD / ALTYN KYRGHOL
Marat Sarulu, Kyrgyzstan / Kazakhstan, 2001; 80m
Marat Sarulu, co-writer of Aktan Abdikalikov's THE ADOPTED SON, made his
feature debut with this beautifully shot (in glorious black-and-white)
and carefully drawn parable of the transition from old to new in the
mountains of Kyrgyzstan. Two young boys and a girl from a mountain
village make their way to the rail line that crosses the old Silk Road.
By boarding the slowly moving train, they're looking for a sense of
definition, a way into their own future and a future for their country,
as well as a link to the past. A film with a very special tone, pitched
between bittersweet nostalgia and longing.
preceded by
THE GUARD
Beyzhan Aidkuluev's short, impressionistic portrait of an old man who
presides over his Kirghiz village like a benign spirit, and an emissary
from a past that is quickly disappearing. Aidkuluev is a filmmaker of
rare gifts, building his images and sounds into a work of incantatory
power.
preceded by
THE FLY-UP
Marat Sarulu, Kyrgyzstan / Kazakhstan, 2002; 10m
Marat Sarulu, Kyrgyzstan / Kazakhstan, 2002; 10m
Marat Sarulu's elegant 2002 short is based on a strong, simple idea - a
man living in a dull black-and-white world soars to color and the
freedom of the skies in a homemade flying machine.
THE LAST STOP / KONECHNAYA OSTANOVKA
Serik Aprimov, Kazakhstan, 1989; 78m
A young man comes home to his Kazakh village after finishing up his
stint in the Soviet Army. All that he finds are his old friends
drinking, senselessly carousing, tumbling into one violent brawl after
another. THE LAST STOP, described as the "first perestroika film," was
Serik Aprimov's thesis project when he graduated from VGIK Institute in
Moscow. The only reason the downbeat story made it past the government
approval committee was that they thought the action was set during WWII.
However, there's nothing downbeat about Aprimov's artistry, and his
dedication to getting the texture, the rhythm, the pulse of dead-end
life, which makes THE LAST STOP akin to a rougher and more somber
version of Fellini's I Vitelloni or Scorsese's Mean Streets. Beautifully
shot by Murad Nougmanov, one of the unheralded geniuses of the Kazakh
New Wave of the 90s.
REVENGE / MEST
Ermek Shinarbaev, Kazakhstan, 1987; 100m
There have been plenty of films based on the theme of revenge, but
there's never been one like this. Director Ermek Shinarbaev and his
writing partner Anatoly Kim arguably kicked off the Kazakh New Wave with
My Sister Lucie in 1985. They made quite a formidable team in the 80s
and 90s, and this is their masterpiece. The action begins after a brief
but potent prologue set in the court of a young king during the 18th
century. Flash forward to Korea at the turn of the last century. In a
fit of anger, a resentful teacher murders a child, then flees his
village. The parents seek revenge, and the father spends ten years
tracking down his prey, only to lose his chance at the ultimate moment.
The mother has him take on a second wife, in order to give birth to a
son who will grow up to carry out the task. Shinarbaev and Kim trace the
current of revenge as it mutates across a broad span of time, and this
carefully crafted, artfully precise film keeps deepening in mystery and
suspense until it reaches its transcendent end point.
KILLER
Darezhan Omirbaev, Kazakhstan, 1998; 80m
Marat, a young man in Almaty with a wife and a new baby, accidentally
rear-ends a Mercedes. Short for cash, he turns to a loan shark, which
puts the mob on his back. Eventually, he's backed into a corner. To make
good on his debt, he must kill a man. Omirbaev's third feature departs
from his customary poetic-autobiographical explorations - in an effort
to portray the mean reality of life in contemporary Kazakhstan, he
worked from the clear, strong metaphor of a lone individual who is
forced to shoot before he's shot at. The story and the sensibility have
a kinship with Bresson's L'Argent, but KILLER has an altogether
different tone, at once drily entrancing and profoundly melancholy.
preceded by
THE APPLE / YABLOKO
Abay Kulbaev, Kazakhstan, 2003; 5m
A man picking berries in a snow-covered landscape observes a curious
sight in the distance: a boy jumping and trying in vain to catch an
elusive apple. Which, as we all know, never falls far from the tree. A
very nice little comic parable, starring director Darezhan Omirbaev.
THE MYSTERY OF FERNS / KIRK KULOK
SIRI
Rachid Malikov, Uzbekistan, 1992; 72m
The story of Malikov's meditative, mysterious and quietly shattering
film is simple. A shabbily elegant old man, widowed and treated with
matter-of-fact derision by his daughter and his tomboy granddaughter,
begins to lose touch with the world. At first it seems to be a matter of
temperament, the disengagement of an intellectual from a world that has
disappointed him. Then, it seems like pure depression brought on by old
age, and he is treated by a foolish, pony-tailed psychiatrist ("You
resemble Cherkassov in Ivan the Terrible," the old man remarks). Then,
when the man suffers a stroke that renders him mute and erases his
memory, he wanders through a ruined Uzbekistan, passing from one
devastated landscape to another. What makes Malikov's film so brilliant
is the way he edges us into a disturbingly fractured universe. There are
no expressionistic tricks or flourishes - his expressive camera simply
moves away from the action and passes over chaotic assemblies of random
objects, a mirror of the chaos inside the soul of his lonely hero and
the soul of his country as well.
LITTLE ANGEL, BRING ME JOY / ANGELOCHEK SDELAJ RADOST
Usman Saparov, Turkmenistan, 1993; 88m
Usman Saparov's story of German emigrants living peacefully in pre-WWII
Turkmenistan, suddenly scourged and displaced with the outbreak of war.
The film centers around a child named Georg who escapes capture and
placement in an orphanage. As he tries to make sense of what's going on
around him, and why people who were once his friends are now treating
him with contempt, he awaits the traditional "Baby Angel" of Easter, who
he believes will protect him. Like the post-war classic Forbidden Games,
LITTLE ANGEL, BRING ME JOY is a devastatingly direct vision of war and
its consequences, witnessed through the eyes of a child.
TENDERNESS / NEZHNOST
Elyer Ishmukhamedov, Uzbekistan, 1967; 83m
Elyer Ishmukhamedov's 1967 film was deeply influenced by and tuned into
the French New Wave and the latest currents in Italian cinema, and there
are long stretches in this incandescent film where you might think
you're watching a lost Fellini classic. It's summertime in Tashkent, and
these three intertwined stories of young love (the first sharing the
name of the film itself, the other two named after their heroines, Lena
and Mamura) seem to float over the screen like gossamer on a warm
breeze. TENDERNESS is filled with unforgettable passages and images, and
it's a guarantee you'll go home dreaming of its central image of boys
and girls happily lounging in their inner tubes as they float down a
river.
BROTHER / BRATAN
Bachtiyar Hudoynazarov, Tadjikistan, 1991; 100m
Bachtiyar Hudoynazarov's lyrical road movie follows two brothers -
17-year-old Farrukh and 7-year-old Azamat - on a journey by cargo train
in search of their father. When they finally reach him, he doesn't even
recognize them. The film is about as inventive and exhilarating as the
genre gets, managing a touching character study as well as a sensitively
drawn portrait-in-motion of makeshift life in modern Tadjikistan. The
country seems to be on the edge of falling apart as the brothers draw
closer together. A uniquely touching film, made by a young director with
a feel for the wonders in everyday life.
TAKHIR AND ZUKHRA / TAKHIR I ZUKHRA
Nabi Ganiev, Uzbekistan, 1945; 92m
During WWII, the base of Soviet moviemaking operations shifted to the
east. Eisenstein shot his glorious Ivan the Terrible in Almaty, and
there were many films shot in Uzbekistan. Including this glorious period
piece, based on the Uzbek Romeo and Juliet. Takhir and Zukhra are
childhood sweethearts brought up together at the royal court, only to be
torn apart as teenagers when Takhir is banished from the kingdom. Shot
in shimmering black-and-white by Daniil Demutsky, the great
cinematographer who shot Dovzhenko's Arsenal and Earth, with eye-filling
sets and costumes, TAKHIR AND ZUKHRA is a feast for the eyes and ears,
with the magicaly beautiful Gulyam Aglayev and Yuldus Rysayeva as the
enchanted lovers (it's hard to say who's prettier, Takhir or Zukhra) and
Bollywood-style musical interludes in the bargain.
THE TIME OF YELLOW GRASS /
MAVSIMI ALAFCHAI SARD
Mairam Yusupova, Tadjikistan, 1991; 70m
In a remote Tadjik mountain village, some shepherds come across a dead
body. No one knows who he is or where he's from, but they soon discover
that he is not a Muslim. As the news spreads, the people decide what
should be done with this "infidel." THE TIME OF YELLOW GRASS is a film
of powerful simplicity, in which documentary and fiction dissolve into
one fluid means of expression. Not unlike Kiarostami with The Wind Will
Carry Us and Where Is the Friend's Home?, Mariam Yusupova ties all her
action into the starkly beautiful landscape, and a remarkable portrait
of a people and a place out of time develops.
preceded by
FACE
Mairam Yusupova, Tadjikistan, 1991; 16m
Mariam Yusupova does something very simple yet powerful in this film:
she takes her camera out into the streets of Dushanbe and simply studies
faces of people walking, talking, reading, eating. Occasionally, she
cuts to buildings and landscapes, and the film begins to formulate an
interesting question: are we looking at the faces or the "face" of
modern Tadjikistan?
THE FLIGHT OF THE BEE / PARVAZ-E ZANBUR
Jamshed Usmonov, Tadjikistan, 1998; 90m
Jamshed Usmonov and Byong Hun-min's fable of the new Tadjikistan is the
story of a headmaster in a village school, a gentle Muslim man with a
wife and child, who wants to be left alone to finish writing his book. A
wealthy, insensitive businessman moves in next door and puts his toilet
right next to the headmaster's property. With the collapse of the Soviet
Union comes the collapse of ancient values, mutual respect and legality.
When he comes to inquire about a solution, the businessman throws him
out, and the mayor talks law and order. In retaliation, the headmaster
buys another house next door to the mayor's office and digs a public
toilet. A simple, beautifully observed portrait of a village community,
as well as a chillingly lifelike demonstration of mercenary capitalism
run amok.
THE FIERCE ONE / LUTIY
Tolomush Okeev, Kyrgyzstan / Kazakhstan, 1973; 97m
When Tolomush Okeev passed away at the age of 66 in late 2001, the Kirghiz Film
Studio was renamed in his honor. Which is as it should be, because he was a
powerfully gifted and dedicated artist who served his country and its film
industry well. Okeev was one of the greatest outdoor filmmakers who ever lived:
he deserves a place alongside Jean Epstein and Terrence Malick. Anyone can set
up a camera in front of a mountaintop and get a majestic image. But Okeev filmed
the Kirghiz mountains and deserts with an intimate knowledge and the keenest
sensitivity. The action in his films is always keyed to the landscape in a way
that appears effortless, no matter how painstakingly wrought: he knows every
crack, every crevice, all the cruelty and all the beauty of a life lived under
the open sky. This 1973 film, written by Andrei Konchalovsky, may well be
Okeev's masterpiece. It's the story of a boy who raises a wolf cub, and learns
quickly about savagery of the animal and human variety. No one beside Bresson
has understood the essential character of an animal so well. And there are
sequences here - a pack of wolves raiding a herd of sheep by night, a wolf hunt
on horseback, and the snowscapes of the last section of the movie - that will
make your hair stand on end. Warning: the films contains explicit scenes of
violence to animals.
ANGEL ON THE RIGHT / FARISHTAY KIFTI ROST
Jamshed Usmonov, Tadjikistan/Italy/Switzerland /France, 2002; 89m
An unrepentant prodigal son straight out of a Russian jail returns to
his hometown, Asht, to help his mother die with dignity. But his debts
in his hometown are many and long overdue, the townspeople are tough as
nails, and he soon gets more than he expected from the quiet village. In
this dark comedy, his third feature, writer-director Jamshed Usmonov
cast the population of Asht as its own persuasive self and his own
mother and brother as the fractured yet formidable domestic couple.