I have to give this an A for effort. It's an ambitious film about human relationships, fate, God, religion, corruption. And the central figure, Aleksey Serebryakov, is a loving husband and father who is cheated out of his land, whose wife commits suicide, and who is convicted of the crime and gets fifteen years in a Russian prison. When he tries to talk to a priest about his deepening difficulties, the priest tells him the story of Jonah and the whale. But judging from Serebryakov's tribulations, Job is the more relevant tale.
At the same time, though, there is this whale imagery that appears here and there throughout the film. There's a monstrous and scary whale skeleton on the beach. When Serebryakov's wife, Elena Lyadova, in a state of anguish peers over the ocean, a whale breaks the surface in the far distance.
When Serebryakov's lost house is being demolished to make way for a community developer, we see a shot to the placid interior of the house -- curtains on the windows, plates and cups on the kitchen table, everything quietly in order. Then -- KABOOM -- a gigantic toothed monster seems to smash through the kitchen wall and begin slowly and deliberately devouring the room, furniture and all. (It's a huge demolition crane made by Volvo.) Nope. I'm afraid that whale business means something. But what? I had a hell of a time with Moby Dick but that was still easier than this. I take the whale to be something like the comfort that religious faith is supposed to bring us. For some of us. God is dead. The huge skeleton on the beach. For some, it's distant, out of reach, like the whale momentarily breaching. And for those who don't believe at all, the resulting unalloyed guilt eats us up -- and our house too.
I don't believe a word of what I just wrote but, like the whale in the ocean, there's something to it but from my position I can't quite reach it.
The film was shot in Murmansk, famous as one of the two ports that the Allies used to supply the USSR during World War II. Thus, the ocean we see rolling ashore, the one the fish in the factory come from, is the Barents Sea. It's in the high latitudes, about 69 degrees, north of the Arctic Circle, which accounts for the bleak prospect of the landscape. It's cloudy and the rolling hills have patches of snow. Everyone is bundled up. What sunlight there is, comes from a low angle. A dismal place, suitable for Job, if you're going to make the guy suffer. It's much harder to imagine Job suffering in the Crimea, surrounded by sunshine and roses.
The acting is good all around. The photography is only just short of magnificent. And the director knows just how long to linger over a shot before cutting. A special award to Elena Lyadova, Job's wife. She's beautiful but not Olga Kurylenko beautiful or Jessica Alba cute. She fits the story perfectly, attractive but a little weathered too, as a housewife, with a stepson and a job in a fish processing plant, might be in Murmansk. I only mention in passing her splendid figure, which we don't get to see enough of.
But then all of the performers seem to have been chosen because they fit their roles so well. Nobody is particularly handsome. Nobody is gorgeous. Everyone slogs through his or her muddy life doing the best they can, just like all the rest of us.
I was gripped by it, after it's somewhat slow start, and admire the film makers for their daring.
At the same time, though, there is this whale imagery that appears here and there throughout the film. There's a monstrous and scary whale skeleton on the beach. When Serebryakov's wife, Elena Lyadova, in a state of anguish peers over the ocean, a whale breaks the surface in the far distance.
When Serebryakov's lost house is being demolished to make way for a community developer, we see a shot to the placid interior of the house -- curtains on the windows, plates and cups on the kitchen table, everything quietly in order. Then -- KABOOM -- a gigantic toothed monster seems to smash through the kitchen wall and begin slowly and deliberately devouring the room, furniture and all. (It's a huge demolition crane made by Volvo.) Nope. I'm afraid that whale business means something. But what? I had a hell of a time with Moby Dick but that was still easier than this. I take the whale to be something like the comfort that religious faith is supposed to bring us. For some of us. God is dead. The huge skeleton on the beach. For some, it's distant, out of reach, like the whale momentarily breaching. And for those who don't believe at all, the resulting unalloyed guilt eats us up -- and our house too.
I don't believe a word of what I just wrote but, like the whale in the ocean, there's something to it but from my position I can't quite reach it.
The film was shot in Murmansk, famous as one of the two ports that the Allies used to supply the USSR during World War II. Thus, the ocean we see rolling ashore, the one the fish in the factory come from, is the Barents Sea. It's in the high latitudes, about 69 degrees, north of the Arctic Circle, which accounts for the bleak prospect of the landscape. It's cloudy and the rolling hills have patches of snow. Everyone is bundled up. What sunlight there is, comes from a low angle. A dismal place, suitable for Job, if you're going to make the guy suffer. It's much harder to imagine Job suffering in the Crimea, surrounded by sunshine and roses.
The acting is good all around. The photography is only just short of magnificent. And the director knows just how long to linger over a shot before cutting. A special award to Elena Lyadova, Job's wife. She's beautiful but not Olga Kurylenko beautiful or Jessica Alba cute. She fits the story perfectly, attractive but a little weathered too, as a housewife, with a stepson and a job in a fish processing plant, might be in Murmansk. I only mention in passing her splendid figure, which we don't get to see enough of.
But then all of the performers seem to have been chosen because they fit their roles so well. Nobody is particularly handsome. Nobody is gorgeous. Everyone slogs through his or her muddy life doing the best they can, just like all the rest of us.
I was gripped by it, after it's somewhat slow start, and admire the film makers for their daring.