Siberiade

Konchalovsky's towering poem to Siberia doesn't steamroll ahead, though it's 4,5 hours long. It holds back for space, takes time in roundabout exploration of childhood memories in a turn-of-the-century backwoods village, yet it picks up steam doing this, builds in emotional resonance as though even the sounds and images which compose it become imbued by sheer association with their subject matter with that quality of fierce tireless quiet dignity that characterizes the Soviet working spirit. Konchalovsky celebrates Soviet collectivity but in an almost revisionist way to paeans like Soy Cuba and Invincible the mood turns somber and reflective.

So eventually the Revolution, the one thought to matter. News of it reach the secluded Siberian village only through the grapevine. Worse with the fruits of its labor, these reach the village only when a world war calls for the young men to enlist.

But although the scope appears huge and daunting, Konchalovksy zeroes in on the individual, the face behind the history; with care and affection to examine the bitter longing and regret of the woman who waited 6 years after the war for a fiancé who never came back, waited long enough to go out and become a barmaid in a ship with velvet couches and which she quit years later to come back to her village to care for an aging uncle who killed the fiancé's father with an axe, the irreverent folly of the fiancé who came back from the war a hero 20 years too late, came back not for the sake of the girl he left behind but to drill oil for the motherland, the despair and resignation of the middle-aged Regional Party Leader who comes back to his small Siberian village with the sole purpose of blotting it out of the map to build a power plant.

The movie segues from decade to decade from the 10's to the 80's with amazing newsreel footage trailing Soviet history from the revolution to war famine and the titanic technological achievements of an empire (terrific visuals here! pure futurism of kinetic violence and skewed angles and flickering cramped shots of crowds and faces) but the actual movie focuses on the individual, on triumphs and follies small and big. By the second half a sense of bittersweet fatalism creeps in; of broken lives that never reached fulfillment choking with regret and yearning. "It can't matter", seems like the world is saying, to which Konchalovksy answers "it must matter" because the protagonists keep on trying for redemption.

Yet behind this saga of 'man against landscape' something seems to hover, shadowy, almost substanceless, like the Eternal Old Man hermit who appears in every segment to guide or repudiate the protagonists, sometimes a mere spectactor, sometimes the enigmatic sage; a little behind and above all the other straightforward and logical incomprehensible ultimatums challenges and affirmations of the human characters, something invisible seems to lurk. Ghosts of the fathers appearing in sepia dreams, repeated shots of a star gleaming in the nightsky, a curious bear, indeed the Eternal Old Man himself; Konchalovksy calls for awe and reverence before a mystical land of some other order.

In its treatment of a small backwoods community struggling against nature progress and time and in the ways it learns to deal with them, often funny bizarre and tragic at the same time, and in how the director never allows cynicism to override his humanism, it reminds me of Shohei Imamura's The Profound Desires of the Gods. When, in a dream scene, Alexei tears through the planks of a door on which is plastered a propaganda poster of Stalin to reach out at his (dead) father as he vanishes in the fog, the movie hints at the betrayal of the Soviet Dream, or better yet, at all the things lost in the revolution, this betrayal made more explicit in the film's fiery denouement.

The amazing visuals, elegiac and somber with a raw naturalist edge, help seal the deal. By the end of it, an oil derric erupts in flames and the movie erupts in a wild explosion of pure cinema.

Huge swaths of Russian history represented as a sprawling, moving canvas. The scale of which can't be properly appreciated until you've stepped back to observe the full picture on display. A history of revolution, disillusionment, national pride, and hardship. Men cutting through a dense Siberian forest to build a road with no discernable end in sight. Holding out hope for the unforeseen future of their homeland. With each decade chronicled, a rebellious spirit is continuously fostered, inherited from one generation to the next. Whether it's on the battlefield, in the workforce, or on the political stage, this is no place for the weak-willed.

And as the past dies to allow the future a chance to live, so too does this multi-generational tale continues to evolve itself. We see the idealogical rift that slowly separates fathers from their sons; coexistence made tentative at best. Each must forge their own way forward. And yet the ghosts of their forefathers lingers, a fog hovering over the fields, engulfing the personalities of those that carry the bloodline. All of it is witnessed through the eyes of remote villagers. Individuals with their interconnected relationships simultaneously serving as a microcosm for the Soviet Union's state of being, reflecting the turmoil it takes to build a nation. Changes occurring in the outside world that seeps in, altering the course of all those involved. From small-village superstition to post-war industrialization; it's all here on display.

Siberiade is a moving, monumental piece of work. From minute one to its credit role, it never lets up. A crowning achievement in a year that birthed several classics and a must-watch for fans of Soviet cinema. Don't let this one pass you by.

I was young film student in 1979 when the Union of the Soviet Filmmakers came to Sofia Bulgaria and premiered Konchalovsky's "Siberiade"; Tarkosvky's "Stalker" and Danelia'a "Autumn marathon". I was stunned by the cosmopolitan dimension of the art form. Then and only then, I saw "Siberiade" 4 and 1/2 hours epic and was speechless. Way better then Bertolucci's "1900". By far!

Hope Andron will somehow get to the negative and make "director's restored version full lenght " someday! On DVD of course! Also I fiercely fought in defense of this Cinema against most of my colleagues who were equating Soviet film with bad taste! Time is on my side.

It is a story of Siberian village people from the beginning of 20th century till the 60ties. It is about passion and feelings, about Russian soul, and very romantic. This movie IS NOT action packed, it flowes slowely. In second part one can find great songs - Russian romances. It is much more better than Doctor Zhivago. The director of this movie moved to America and made Runaway Train for example.

I have seen the film a few days back on a video tape and even though it was hard to swallow it at one take (because of its length and story), I liked it very much. I was impressed first, by the script and then, by the realization of this script. The film takes you on a ride, but that is not an easy, joyful ride; it goes through time and different political regimes and shows the influence of them to ordinary people's lives. What I loved was the inner logic the film followed; logic, which just like logic in life, was rather illogical and confusing at times but in the end, when I thought about it, all the events and twists made sense. It makes no sense though to try to re-tell the story as it spreads in more than 50 years of time. I also liked very much Nikita Mikhalkov's character Aleksei and the way he played it, as some critics would saw, with restless abandon. What I didn't like about it, was that I think he later played characters that remind me of Aleksei in films like "Cruel Romance" (Zhestokij romans, which I actually love) and to some extent in "The Insulted and the Injured" ("Unizhennye i oskorblyonnye"). "Sibiriada" shows, I think, what a great film-maker Andrei Konchalovski was before he went to Hollywood and made forgettable films like "Tango and Cash" and less forgettable like "Runaway train". I would prefer "Kurochka Ryaba" to them...