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Another Russia: A Tribute to Lenfilm Studios 

Another Russia: A Tribute to Lenfilm Studios is presented by Seagull Films and the Film Society of Lincoln Center in collaboration with Lenfilm Studios and the Russian State Department of Cinema. This program has been curated by Alla Verlotsky and Richard Pena and is made possible through the generosity and support of the Trust for Mutual Understanding. Special thanks are due to Naum Kleiman, Neya Zorkaya, Sergey Lazaruk, Olga Agrafenina and Alexander Ikonnikov.

Created in the wake of the Bolsheviks' victory in 1918, the studio that eventually was called Lenfilm early on established a reputation for attracting some of the very "free spirits" who were then gravitating to the new Soviet cinema. Away from the increasingly prying eyes of Moscow authorities, Lenfilm directors perhaps felt more able to experiment than their colleagues elsewhere. Aesthetically, the dominant force at Lenfilm in the silent era was the team of Grigori Kozintsev and Leonid Trauberg; Kozintsev especially would remain a major influence on Lenfilm production over the next five decades, and his enormous prestige allowed him to create a space at Lenfilm for outsiders and dissenters. During the period of the "thaw," from the late 50s through the early 70s, Lenfilm attracted several key figures, such as the 60s cultural icon Gennady Shpalikov, whose only feature film, A LONG HAPPY LIFE, was made for Lenfilm in 1966. Some of the best Lenfilm directors were rarely shown abroad: Ilya Averbach, whose beautiful MONOLOGUE captured the coming generational conflict; Dinara Asanova, maker of hard-hitting, complex social dramas; and Vitaly Melnikov, whose deft combination of comedy and drama always seemed to capture the national mood. With the coming of perestroika in the mid-80s, Lenfilm again became the headquarters for an exciting new, even more skeptical generation of filmmakers: Sergei Sleyanov, Lidia Bobrova, Konstantin Lopushansky, and especially Alexander Sokurov. The role played earlier by Kozintsev at Lenfilm was somewhat taken over by Alexei Guerman, a bold, uncompromising filmmaker whose MY FRIEND IVAN LAPSHIN in 1983 was considered by many to herald a new era. Today, Lenfilm Studio remains active and open, although the many changes in Russian life and economy since 1991 have taken their toll on the entire film industry. Yet even a brief survey such as this will reveal an astonishing history of artistic excellence, cinematic innovation, and political courage - a powerful legacy on which future filmmakers can certainly build.



DEPUTY FOR THE BALTIC FLEET / DEPUTAT BALTIKI
Iosef Heifits, Alexander Zarkhi, 1936; 96m
Best known for his Chekhov adaptation THE LADY WITH THE LITTLE DOG, Iosef Heifits was a mainstay of Lenfilm for five decades. Co-directing with Alexander Zarkhi, Heifits here tells a story set in the first months after the Bolshevik takeover of the government. Food is scarce, and fuel supplies have run out; rumors circulate that the Bolsheviks will soon be driven from power. One of the loudest voices in their defense is that of an important scientist, Professor Polezhaev, who calls on the intelligentsia to support the new regime - for which he's viciously attacked by most of his colleagues. His efforts will eventually come to the attention of Lenin himself. As repression and terror increased under Stalin in the 30s, intellectuals were frequently attacked and ridiculed, called parasites, and seen as distant from the masses. In this context, Heifits and Zarkhi's film must be seen as a defense of the role of the intellectual in the revolution.


TWENTY DAYS WITHOUT WAR / DVADSTAT DNEY BEZ VOYNY
Alexei Guerman, 1976; 101m
Alexei Guerman's contribution to Lenfilm goes far beyond the brilliant films he has directed there; since the mid-70s, he has become something of a figurehead for the "Lenfilm spirit" - provocative, unexpected, and decidedly non-conformist. Son of the writer Yuri Guerman, he returns again and again in his films to the scene of his father's youth in an effort to understand how, to his mind, things turned out so badly in the Soviet Union for so many reasonably good people. Naturally, such a theme has not made his work popular with authorities. In TWENTY DAYS WITHOUT WAR, he brings to the screen an adaptation of Konstantin Simonov's story Lopatin's Notes. A weathered military reporter, Lopatin is given twenty days leave to recuperate in Tashkent; yet the war is everywhere around him - in the numbing poverty, in the faces of teenagers with no future. A love story emerges, but it seems little more than a faint protest in such a world. For Lopatin, Guerman cast a famous circus clown, Yuri Nikulin, a bold stroke that assured that his Lopatin would be far removed from the typical image of Soviet war heroes.


MAMA GOT MARRIED / MAMA VYSHLA ZAMUZH
Vitaly Melnikov, 1969; 85m
Zina separated from her son Borka's father ages ago and pretty much brought him up by herself. Now, the son has grown into a man - yet another man, Viktor, is also entering Zina's life. How will the son respond to the possibility of a new stepfather? So often, Vitaly Melnikov seemed to have his finger on the pulse of Soviet society, fashioning films around widely felt issues that needed airing. Here, he looks at the impact of single-parent families - even more common in the Soviet Union than in the U.S. -on both the parent and the offspring. Melnikov gets an especially fine performance from Lyusyena Ovchinikova as Zina, trying to keep up with the demands of both men in her life.


GRANNY / BABUSYA
Lidiya Bobrova, 2003; 97m
With each new film, director Lidiya Bobrova solidifies her reputation as one of the most powerful - and socially perceptive - directors working in Russia today. Energetic grandmother Tusya, who dug trenches during the siege of Stalingrad, manages her daughter Vera's household while bringing up her three grandchildren. When Vera enters the hospital, her husband, Ivan, forces the now 80-year-old Tusya to sign the house over to the grandchildren, then dumps her at her sister Anna's home in the Archangel region of northern Russia. When Anna breaks her hip, her daughter Liza returns home and immediately tries to board Tusya with the neighbors. When no one will take her in, Liza brings Tusya back to Vera's original house, but the recently widowed Ivan won't even consider taking her in. Never nostalgic for the "old times," the film nevertheless asks what precisely was lost when the old social order was replaced with the new one.


FATHER AND SON / OTETS I SYN
Alexander Sokurov, 2003; 83m
Sokurov's most recent film is in many ways his most personal; his typically brilliant visual style is matched by an intensity of emotion arguably never before felt in his work. Father and son live together in a rooftop apartment. For years they have lived alone, creating their own private world with its own codes, memories, and rituals. Their closeness makes them seem sometimes more like brothers - or even lovers. Following in his father's footsteps, the son decides to go to military school, where he excels in sports but little else. He strikes up a relationship with a young woman, but as she tries to draw closer to him, she comes to realize that his father stands in the way. Full of haunting looks and sly gestures, FATHER AND SON attempts to capture a feeling between two people so powerful, so deep, that it can only really be seen when moments of friction make it briefly visible to others. A daring work, from a director from whom we've come to expect no less.


HOUSE IN THE SNOW DRIFTS / DOM V SUGROBAKH
Friedrich Ermler, 1927, silent; 63m (with live piano accompaniment by Donald Sosin)
One of the many Soviet-era artists in need of serious re-evaluation (or just plain discovery), Friedrich Ermler spent practically his entire career at Lenfilm. Based on the short story The Cave by Yevgeny Zamatkin, HOUSE IN THE SNOW DRIFTS tells the story of the inhabitants of a small apartment house in the winter of 1919 - 1920, as the battle between "red" (communist) and "white" (tsarist) forces was raging outside the city. For most of these characters, survival is the most important concern, ideological or other interests falling far behind the drive to just stay alive. Among them is a young musician, who feels his art places him somehow above the struggle going on all around him. Ermler's treatment of his characters is remarkably evenhanded, their weaknesses and even deceptions understood against a backdrop of fear and deprivation.


LETTERS FROM A DEAD MAN / PISMA MYORTVOGO CHELOVEKA
Konstantin Lopushansky, 1986; 88m
A comprehensive catalog of Lenfilm productions put out by the studio itself lists, in the entry on LETTERS FROM A DEAD MAN, the film's genre as "anti-utopia." Whether or not such a genre exists, a more apt description of Lopushansky's film can't be imagined. Assistant to Tarkovsky on Stalker, Lopushansky continues and evolves that imagination of a postapocalyptic world. A mishap sets off nuclear war, and years later the few wretched survivors struggle to cling to whatever life is still available to them. Many of the surviving children have been left mute, and they and others deemed unfit are left to die from the slow effects of the lingering radiation. Meanwhile, a Nobel Prize-winning scientist, Larsen (Rolan Bykov), who sees himself as responsible for what has happened, composes imaginary letters to his dead son, Eric. The film is short on special effects but rich in texture and ideas; winner of 14 international prizes, LETTERS so impressed Ted Turner that he arranged to have the film broadcast on TNT.


PANEL DISCUSSION
Lenfilm and Russian Cinema: Past, Present, and Future
Alexander Golutva, former head of Lenfilm Studios and currently the First Deputy Minister at the Russian Ministry of Culture in charge of cinema, will be joined for a discussion on the role of Lenfilm in the past and future of Russian filmmaking by directors Lidiya Bobrova, Konstanin Lopushansky, Vitaly Melnikov, and Sergei Selyanov.


A LONG HAPPY LIFE / DOLGAYA SCHASTLIVAYA ZHIZN'
Gennady Shpalikov, 1966; 90m
No one more exemplified the idea of the "60s man" than Gennady Shpalikov. Poet, lyricist, and screenwriter (I Am Twenty, You and Me), he continues to personify even today the skeptical outsider, someone dissatisfied with the old truths but still not convinced by anything else. In A LONG HAPPY LIFE, his only work as a film director, he offers perhaps the most perfect, and touching, expression of his vision. A man, Viktor, is riding a bus in the provinces. He gets off in a small town, and by chance hooks up with Lena. They spend the night together, but in the morning each ask themselves, "What has changed?" A film of exquisite delicacy, A LONG HAPPY LIFE is less interested in recounting a story than it is in trying to describe a feeling. The film has been compared to those of Bergman, Antonioni, and other contemporary modernists, but A LONG HAPPY LIFE has a sensibility all its own.


SAINT'S DAY / DEN' ANGELA
Sergei Selyanov, Nikolai Makarov, 1989; 110m
Adapted from an underground (samizdat) story by Mikhail Kovaltchuk, SAINT'S DAY was actually produced independently, but eventually was acquired by Lenfilm, which released the film in Russia and represented it internationally. One of the most original and provocative works to have emerged during glasnost, the film is set in a large house where a young man, described as retarded by those around him, lives with his father and sisters. Basically a series of vignettes on Russian history that do not follow any kind of set narrative, often filtered through figures from Russian literature, SAINT'S DAY is a meditation on the meaning of "Russia," and what if anything of it can survive in modern times. Like several other films of the era, SAINT'S DAY seems to anticipate the upcoming, monumental changes that would rock Russia in the 90s; the title itself is a reference to "birthday," and thus the film can be seen as the celebration of a new birth that's not quite happened.


MASQUERADE / MASKARADA
Sergei Gerasimov, 1941; 113m
Soviet-era studio filmmaking at its finest: delicate lighting, sumptuous sets, and a wildly melodramatic story. Based on the play by Lermontov, MASQUERADE begins when the beautiful, aristocratic Nina (the lovely Tamara Makarova) loses a bracelet during a masked ball. Her husband, Arbenin (the amazing Nikolai Mordvinov), discovers it and thinks she's given it to an admirer - and he's got a pretty good idea who that might be. Remarkably similar to Ophuls's Madame deÖ , which is based on different source material, MASQUERADE charts the devastating effects of Arbenin's jealousy on everyone around the couple. Director Gerasimov shows himself to be a master of the moving camera, and his use of incredibly deep space to stage action (often complemented by opening or slamming doors) seems way ahead of its time.


KING LEAR / KOROL LIR
Grigory Kozintsev, 1970; 140m
Like all Soviet studios, Lenfilm made its share of adaptations of classic world literature, but its adaptations of Hamlet and King Lear, both directed by Grigory Kozintsev, are among the greatest film versions of Shakespeare. One critic has written that "of all Shakespeare's tragedies, King Lear is perhaps the best suited to Russian adaptation, being the longest, wildest, starkest, and most replete with pain and suffering at all levels." Yet while Kozintsev surely plumbs the depths of Shakespeare's despair, he has nonetheless fashioned a brilliant adaptation that is never less than exhilarating. Using Boris Pasternak's translation, Kozintsev captures both the chaos of battle and the deepening madness of the king. As Lear loses command over his land, his daughters, and finally himself, the tragedy moves inexorably to its shattering climax. With a superb score by Shostakovich.


THE ERRORS OF YOUTH / OSHIBKI YUNOSTI
Boris Frumin, 1978; 87m
In 1979, Boris Frumin, a promising young director at Lenfilm, emigrated from the Soviet Union, eventually coming to New York, where he became a respected professor of filmmaking at NYU. Prior to leaving, Frumin had finished work on his second feature, THE ERRORS OF YOUTH; after his departure, the film was banned, but in 1988, Frumin was invited back to Lenfilm to complete it. In Frumin's words, "THE ERRORS OF YOUTH was an effort to speak about a young man, Dimitry Gurianov, a representative of his generation who can't find his place in life. The hypocrisy of the army, the boring life of the countryside, the hard work and constant drunkenness in the north, plus misadventures with women bring him to Leningrad, where he becomes part of the 'black market' scene. We tried to be truthful to the spirit and atmosphere of the 70s in Russia. The film was banned because it was found to be too close to 'real life.'"


PETER THE GREAT (PARTS ONE AND TWO) / PYOTR PERVYJ
Vladimir Petrov, 1937-8; 230m.
There will be a ten-minute break between parts. Originally released in two parts several months apart, PETER THE GREAT was Lenfilm's plush homage to its city's founder and figurehead. Like all royal figures, Peter was problematic for the communist ideologues, but the government-encouraged Russian nationalism of that period rehabilitated several figures now seen as having contributed to Russia's national development. Such a figure was Peter, who struggled to give his empire access to the Baltic and a "window to Europe." After his woefully old-fashioned armies and fleets are defeated, Peter resolves to change his country's destiny by sending young men to study the new technologies then emerging in the West. Within a few years, he gains a coastline and founds a city, St. Petersburg. Part Two begins with victorious Russian battles against their Swedish rivals. The West now grows alarmed at Russia's growing power and conspires to remove Peter from his throne, while at home he discovers treachery even among those closest to him. No expense was spared for the production, and the battle scenes especially remain most impressive.


KATKA'S REINETTE APPLES / KATKA - BUMAZHNY RANYET
Friedrich Ermler & Edouard Ioganson, 1926; 73m
(with live piano accompaniment by Donald Sosin)
A real discovery: Teaming up with Ioganson, who would go on to make some innovative docudramas in the early 30s, Ermler creates an astonishing portrait of Leningrad under the NEP, or New Economic Policy. The NEP was a series of measures instituted by the communists that allowed a measure of private enterprise into the new Soviet state; for its critics, the NEP threatened the return of capitalism and all its vices. The film tells the story of a young country woman, Katka, who comes to Leningrad hoping to earn enough money to buy a cow; she soon falls into the clutches of some unsavory characters. Happily, she meets a similarly half-lost soul, and together the two struggle to create lives for themselves. Dramatic uses of lighting at times recall Guerman's expressionist films, but the real treats here are the remarkable street scenes: Ermler and Ioganson make extraordinary use of real locations around the city, often mixing their actors with people on the streets.


SECOND CIRCLE / KRUG VTOROJ
Alexander Sokurov, 1990; 92m
Over the past 15 years, Alexander Sokurov has become Lenfilm's best-known director internationally, making almost all his films there since his first feature. For many his first masterpiece, SECOND CIRCLE begins as an intense, brooding young man returns to his home village deep in Siberia to deal with his father's death and burial. Much of the remarkable film turns on the problem of actually getting the old man's body into the ground, and as the difficulties start to seem truly Kafkaesque, Sokurov creates a homeground metaphor for individual grief and Soviet sociopolitical realities, past and present. Yet beyond the film's powerful political vision lies Sokurov's extraordinary visual design for the film, alternately gray and colorful, images that seem at times on the verge of implosion from the "weight" of the bloated, corrupt world they're trying to capture. In the words of film critic Paul Clark, "rarely has brilliance been so bare."


THE BEGINNING a.k.a. DEBUT / NACHALO
Gleb Panfilov, 1970; 91m
Pasha is a small-town factory worker whose great passion (beyond the married man she's seeing) is the theater, but, not considered a beauty, she's often stuck in character roles. One day a famous film director happens to drop in on one of her amateur group's productions, and struck by Pasha's performance, he invites her to come star in an international co-production of Joan of Arc. Not normally known as a Lenfilm director, Gleb Panfilov actually began his career there, and won his first major international award (Silver Lion at Venice) with this, his second feature. Inna Churikova, one of the greatest actresses still working in cinema today (and Panfilov's great muse), received international acclaim for her heart-rending performance as Pasha, alternately hilarious, pitiful, and seductive - and at times all three.


ALONE / ODNA
Grigory Kozintsev & Leonid Trauberg, 1931; 80m
ALONE is based on the true story of a young woman graduate of Leningrad's teacher-training institute who accepts a job in far-off Siberia but then almost dies when her sleigh driver abandons her on a vast snow-covered plain. Almost shelved after being attacked by some critics for its supposed "individualism," the film was later given an award by a workers' committee (for being "lifelike") and went on to be a great popular success. One of the first Soviet sound films, ALONE is a powerful example of an innovative use of sound that relied heavily on counterpoint and nonsynchronized sounds. In the central role, Elena Kuzmina gives a steely powerful performance.


MONOLOGUE / MONOLOG
Ilya Averbakh, 1972; 100m
It's with a touch of sadness that we include MONOLOGUE in this tribute to Lenfilm; when we last screened it, as the opening film for our "Soviet Cinema of the 60s" series, we were honored with the presence of its star, Mikhail Gluzsky, who has since passed away. He was a delightful guest and an extraordinary actor, and we dedicate these screenings of MONOLOGUE to his memory. One of the first and few films to address the generation gap in the Soviet Union, MONOLOGUE is the story of a prominent scientist, Prof. Sretenski (Gluzsky), who years ago was left with a granddaughter to raise alone by his deeply troubled daughter. Unexpectedly, the prodigal daughter returns one day, a new husband in tow, hoping to become part of her daughter's life once again; for her part, the girl is beginning to experience her own emotional crises. Gluzsky finds just the right emotional pitch for his character, creating a man whose personal life was dominated by routine and order but who begins to feel the need to finally express his own long-hidden emotions.


SEVEN COURAGEOUS / SEMERO SMELYKH
Sergei Gerasimov, 1936; 92m
Adventure films with a slight scientific patina were popular with Soviet audiences; the adventure quotient could provide some exciting action and exotic locales, while the science gave the film a kind of progressive posture. One of the best in the genre was Gerasimov's SEVEN COURAGEOUS. Far off in the bleak Arctic wilderness, seven committed pioneers carry out geological surveys and experiments, while occasionally doing a little medical work among the local Inuit population. A kind of brusque camaraderie pervades the group; even the lone female (Tamara Makarova) seems like just one of the guys. Inevitably, though, problems mount: The weather worsens, and nature rises up to thwart their efforts. Gerasimov moves seamlessly between studio-shot sequences and terrific outdoor footage; throughout, the film expresses a sense of quiet heroism, of people doing their jobs for a purpose greater than the worth of any of their individual lives.


KHROUSTALIOV, MY CAR! / KHROUSTALIOV, MASHINU!
Alexei Guerman, 1998; 137m
A visually stunning, wildly provocative fever dream of a film, the most recent work by director Alexei Guerman is a searing meditation on the crazed final days of Stalin's regime. Taking off from the infamous "Doctor's Plot," Guerman tells the story of Yuri Glinshi, a Red Army general as well as a famous brain surgeon, who is sent to the Gulag after an anti-Semitic purge but then freed in a final effort to save the "People's Little Father" from his date with destiny. Guerman creates a consistently amazing visual and aural rendition of the charged atmosphere of those sad times, in which no point of view is ever fixed, nor any shadow devoid of possible danger, nor any stray remark free from potentially lethal consequences.


OCTOBER / OKTYABR
New Print!
Sergei Eisenstein and Grigory Alexandrov, 1928; 104m
Little introduction is needed for Eisenstein's towering masterwork of the Russian Revolution, an epic re-creation of the events leading up to the Bolshevik victory in late 1917, told from a decidedly Marxist point of view. Although normally based in Moscow, Eisenstein organized his production at Lenfilm since he wanted to use the actual Petrograd (i.e. St. Petersburg, i.e. Leningrad) locations where the depicted events took place. As in historical fiction, the action moves between historical personalities and the unknown masses who in the film's view were the true authors of the Revolution; Eisenstein's editing strategies continually emphasize the connections and contradictions that abound in any moment of historical change, challenging the viewer to see beyond the faÁade of appearances. Rarely have film theory and film practice been brought together so effectively.


LIVING WITH AN IDIOT / ZHIZN S IDIOTOM
Alexander Rogozhkin, 1993; 70m.
Print courtesy of the Nederlands Filmmuseum, Amsterdam.
Please note: this film is not subtitled. Simultaneous translation will be provided.
Based on a story by the notorious Victor Yerofeyev, LIVING WITH AN IDIOT chronicles an experiment undertaken by a humanist intellectual out to "prove" the essential goodness of all men. He goes to a mental institution and brings home a diagnosed "idiot," in this case Vova, a quiet, rather professorial-looking man who seems to keep to himself. At first things are fine; life with Vova seems uncomplicated, and there even seem to be slight signs of progress in communicating with him. Yet there's a dark truth behind Vova's strangely calm exterior. One of the finest filmmakers working in Russia today, Alexander Rogozhkin brings echoes of Tolstoy, Gogol, and other great social satirists to this very modern fable about the limits of tolerance.


DISASTER / BYEDA
Dinara Asanova, 1977; 97m
Originally from Kyrgyzstan, Dinara Asanova was a much-beloved figure at Lenfilm who tragically died young, never reaching perhaps her true potential as a director. Committed to a kind of stark social drama, she focused often in her films on contemporary problems of youth and family life, especially the challenges to both in the ever-changing Soviet society. DISASTER takes place in a small northern town, where Alevtina Ivanovna has been eking out a modest but comfortable living for years. One day, something happens to disrupt the family's quiet life. Moving away from the specific circumstances of the change, Asanova looks at the ways the family tries to deal with its new situation, as well as the kinds of support systems - or lack thereof - that Soviet society seems to offer. Asanova's films are tough and never opt for easy answers or facile moralizing; she much prefers to sketch the complexity of situations and then to minutely detail her characters' responses. Many of her films, including DISASTER, were controversial in their time, yet today stand as some of the most straightforward documents of the Brezhnev era.


MY FRIEND IVAN LAPSHIN / MOI DRUG IVAN LAPSHIN
Alexei Guerman, 1984; 101m
"The heroism of a provincial police investigator is recalled 50 years later by one who knew and admired him; this device becomes even more intriguing given that the film's source is a series of popular stories written by Alexei Guerman's father. Much of the action takes place in an overcrowded communal house where Lapshin, 'our local Pinkerton,' is already something of a legend, fearlessly pursuing criminals yet farcically unlucky in his love life. The gentle comedy of his courtship of a local actress contrasts vividly with a violent raid on a gangster's hideout, yet the overriding theme is memory, embodied in a fragmented point-of-view as elaborate as anything in Orson WellesÖ. Guerman looks like the most radical force in Soviet cinema since Tarkovsky." - Ian Christie, 1988 Toronto Film Festival Catalog


IN THAT LAND / V TOJ STRANE
Lidiya Bobrova, 1997; 90m
"Through a study of its rural citizens, Bobrova's IN THAT LAND chronicles the changes under way in the new Russia, recording stark but politically and socially evocative moments in their hidden lives (the film's) episodic narrative traces the rituals and relationships that bond this community in comic but never caricatured fashion. A quiet shepherd, Skuridin, is besieged by an abusive wife and mother-in-law, confiding his despair to his horses and cows Chapurin, the town's work leader, embarks on a relentless campaign to curb the locals' penchant for drinking large quantities of vodka - even resorting to poisoning the stuffÖ. Distraught over the lack of available men for her daughter, one mother begins corresponding with a prison inmate, but when he's released and comes calling, he turns out to be little more than an urban thug. IN THAT LAND employs perfectly composed images of great beauty to deliver an insightful glimpse into one community's timeless stoicism in the face of political upheaval." - Dimitri Eipides, 1998 Toronto Festival of Festivals Catalog


TORPEDO CARRIERS / TORPEDONOSTSKY
Semyon Aranovich, 1983; 96m
1944. A naval air force regiment is stationed at a small garrison near the Baltic. The war is hardly over, but the enemy is in retreat; many of the pilots bring their families to live with them, trying to fashion some semblance of normal life after the years of wartime terror and upheaval. Yet the re-introduction of their personal and emotional lives only makes matters even more complicated for men who at any moment can be called up to fly a mission that may turn out to be their last. Best known abroad for his terrific documentaries (The Anna Akhmatova File, I Was Stalin's Bodyguard), Semyon Aronovich effectively combined period footage taken by military cameramen with dramatic sequences, giving the sense that these characters - all taken from stories written by Yuri Guerman - are both unique personalities and emblematic of many, many others like them.


THE LADY WITH THE LITTLE DOG / DAMA S SOBACHKOI
Iosef Heifits, 1959; 90m
Winner of a Special Jury Prize at Cannes in 1960, this marvelous adaptation of Chekhov's short story begins in the seaside resort of Yalta, where Dimitri, a Moscow banker on holiday, falls in love with Anna, a beautiful woman he meets when she's out for a stroll with her little dog. He is trapped in an arranged, loveless marriage; she's married to a corrupt government lackey. Their affair gives them both new life, and the beautiful seaside landscapes form a perfect backdrop for their romance. Then, summer's over: He must return to Moscow, she to the small provincial town of Saratov. All winter long, Dimitri tries to put Anna out of his mind but can't - and realizes he doesn't want to. Few films have created a period setting that feels so much simply like a space in which people live; the detail seems perfect, yet is never forced. For his two leads, Heifits cast veteran Alexei Batalov and a wonderful newcomer, Iya Savvina, who went on to win an acting award at Cannes.


THE NEW BABYLON / NOVYJ VAVILON
Grigory Kozintsev & Leonid Trauberg, 1929; 80m
While Eisenstein was developing his theories about film editing (see OCTOBER), Kozintsev and Trauberg had founded FEKS (the Factory of the Eccentric Actor) in Leningrad to develop their own, equally radical approach to filmmaking. THE NEW BABYLON was their masterpiece, a perfect synthesis of their use of stylized performances and off-kilter, unsettling visual compositions. In 1871, during the Franco-Prussian War, a group of revolutionaries created the Paris Commune; an entire cross-section of Parisian citizenry comes alive during the rise and fall of this noble experiment, but the film especially focuses on the love affair between Louise, a shop clerk in the giant department store the New Babylon, and a heroic young soldier. Traces of Manet, Renoir, and Zola can be felt throughout, blended together in a dazzlingly original FEKS concoction.


RUSSIAN ARK
Alexander Sokurov, 2002; 96m
"Has to be seen to be believed. RUSSIAN ARK's mind-boggling choreography is matched by its philosophical grace notes. It's a heady and glorious experience." - J. Hoberman, Village Voice "A sensational masterpiece." - Nathan Lee, New York Sun After months of rehearsal, the deployment of 867 actors and three live orchestras, Sokurov unfolds RUSSIAN ARK in one fluid, unbroken shot: His camera floats through the majestic spaces of the Hermitage in St. Petersburg, engaging characters - some real, some fantasy - from Russian and European history in an atmosphere defined by the masterworks of the Western art tradition. But RUSSIAN ARK is much more than just a museum tour. Sokurov's nameless protagonist, a 19th-century diplomat, takes us on a journey through the lost, sumptuous dream that was European nobility, and the film climaxes in a gloriously sensual pageant of color, motion and music. An astonishing technical feat, a genuine tour de force, and a brilliant meditation on the delirium of history.


POOR PAVEL / BYEDNI, BYEDNI PAVEL
2003, Vitaly Melnikov, 103 min
Lenfilm's most recent major production spins a kind of historical fantasy based on real incidents that's full of ominous implications for today. One night, a patrol rushes into the chambers of the Russian prince Pavel, son of the Empress Catherine; the Empress has died, and Pavel is to be anointed the new Tsar. Thought to be feeble-minded at best and crazy at worst, Pavel soon lives up to his enemies' fears: he dismisses long-serving courtiers, demands that peasants only work three days a week, and declares that state officials should start their days at 5 am. Soon, it seems that everyone who can is trying to hatch some kind of plot against him - including his own sons. Sumptuously designed, POOR PAVEL constrasts the imperial splendor of the court with the sordid atmosphere of conspiracies and backstabbing that comes to define these characters' lives. POOR PAVEL replaces the showing of RUSSIAN ARK originally scheduled for this day and time.


WINDOW TO PARIS / OKNO V PARIZH
Yuri Mamin, 1993; 90m
After its long-time resident has died, Tchiyov, a down-on-his-luck music teacher moves into a small room in a communal apartment. The previous tenant kept a cat, and the animal continues to hang around, looking strangely well fed and contented even though no one takes care of it. One day Tchiyov decides to discover the cat's secret: he follows the cat into an old wardrobe - and winds up on a Parisian street. Soon, Tchiyov and his neighbors are trying to figure out how to drag a Citroen back home through their magic portal. A great hit in Russia, WINDOW TO PARIS is a charming, whimsical comedy, full of hilarious sight gags, on the pleasures, temptations and traps of the newly-emerging capitalist spirit.


KSENIYA, BELOVED WIFE OF FEODOR / KSENIYA, LYUBIMAYA ZHENE FYORDORA
Vitaly Melnikov, 1974; 82m
Occasionally a film comes along that, despite apparent simplicity, seems to capture a certain spirit of the times, and thus becomes an unexpected popular favorite. Such a film was KSENIYA, BELOVED WIFE OF FEODOR. Set in a newly-constructed housing development literally going up around its inhabitants, KSENIYA begins as the shy, 30-ish title character goes off to live in one of the new apartments with her truck driver husband Feodor. Headstrong and outgoing, in many ways the opposite of his new wife, the differences between them will grow greater and deeper, especially around problems with work. For Soviet audiences, much of the power of the film lay in its completely unvarnished image of life as experienced by the vast majority; certainly no one is suffering, or wanting, but something else is missing, and its lack becomes more felt and more tragic as the film.