When the strings of the universe break In the spring of 1985, the Soviet Union was preparing to celebrate the 40th anniversary of the Victory. At that time, no one suspected that the new General Secretary of the CPSU Central Committee, who had just entered the Kremlin, would become the gravedigger of a huge country, and the decisions of the April plenum, which announced the “perestroika”, were perceived as another campaign little understood by the ordinary people. And even more so, all these perturbations in power could not affect the preparations for a significant date, where, among other events, it was assumed that each of the Soviet republics should prepare a film about the Great Patriotic War by the beginning of the year. Of course, this also applies to the future Baltic states. And, of course, the task of the party and the government had to be fulfilled. In Latvia, they did not bother much about this, filming the front-line melodrama “Date on the Milky Way” with the charismatic Inara Slutskaya in the title role. In Lithuania, they found an original way out – they simply provided the power of the local studio to Alexei Simonov, who shot the shrill and powerful “Squad”, which became in line with the best Soviet films about the war. In Estonia, they did not look for easy ways. Tallinnfilm was generally distinguished among other Soviet studios by its commitment to the avant-garde, complicated film language and unusual solutions. Of course, this was especially evident in the animation, but feature films were shot there for the most part - "not for everyone."
So with the Estonian picture timed to the holiday, it turned out that the department is known for its position “keep and not let go”. Philippe Yermash did not know what to do with her. And it is impossible to put on the shelf (the state order after all!), and people do not want to show (the bosses here in the cinema can not understand anything, where there is people!). And all because the young and early Olav Neuland, who shot the picture, caused so much fog (literally and figuratively) that not only the heroes in it were destined to get lost, but also the censors. In the end, "Requiem" in the Union rolled out, but the number of sessions even in Moscow could be counted on the fingers of one hand, what about the rest of the country to say! Criticism, not yet released by the barely begun restructuring, and did not speak about the picture. Or maybe... nothing in the chamber-surrealist story did not understand.
In fact, the events referred to in Requiem have some documentary substantiation. How, with the help of Estonian farmers, the downed Soviet pilots managed to escape the persecution of the Germans and cross the front line can be read in the memoirs of long-range bomber pilot Endel Pusep, one of the participants in the first raid on Berlin in the 41st year, and later the crew commander who delivered Joseph Stalin to the Tehran conference. So, the Estonian pilot of the Red Army, hiding with his partner in the farm of a wealthy peasant is not a fiction of the authors. But this is the only thing that connects the picture with reality. Everything else is not even a figment of imagination. Rather, blurred symbolic images expressing abstract pacifist thought, in which the opposing forces are important not in themselves (not as specific Nazi or Soviet troops), but as a united Moloch devouring the Microcosm, in which peace, tranquility and order reign.
It is no coincidence that the main character of Requiem is an organist who acutely feels the strings of the surrounding reality tearing around him, which is replaced by the chaos of cacophony. It is no coincidence that his opponent, Captain Victor Vene, is a musician in his former peaceful life. True, it is unclear how a representative of such a peaceful profession with the outbreak of the war turned not just into a soldier, but into a military pilot, but such trivial details of Neuland did not interest at all. More importantly, in his new life, Vienna is the “Boy Man,” who has almost stopped hearing these subtle strings of creation. And his conviction in his own rightness contrasts sharply with the reflection of Jaan Priya, in whose peaceful home along with uninvited guests came the war.
Somewhere between Prij and Vienna is the third central character of Requiem, German military doctor Evelyn Evers. She wears a military uniform, but is a representative of a purely peaceful profession. She saves a man (Victor’s partner), but is a hostage. It is torn between sensual femininity and dogmas introduced from the outside (the naked figure against the backdrop of the evening lake contrasts sharply with the buttoned uniform). And unlike Priya and Vienna, it can change. Evelyn (and the baby daughter of the organist Marie) is the epitome of hope in the chaos of war. The hope that Victor will remember more about his peaceful profession, that the world will restore its strings, that the requiem sounding in the soul of the old organist will not remain the last chord of peaceful life.
Of course, with the symbolism that was laid by Neuland in his picture, the soundtrack became for her almost the main tool for the implementation of the director’s plan. Therefore, composer Sven Grünberg can be called a full-fledged co-author of the film. The cult musician for the whole Union of the early 80s played here a small role of one of the sons of the old organist, and the Requiem written by him at the climax makes his way to the bones, raising the tape to the heights that it originally may not have reached. Still, the symbolism of Neuland remained somewhat speculative, abstract-philosophical and cold-sounding – the endless “Platonic” dialogues between the protagonists were able to tire even the calmest viewer. And only Grunberg’s talent allowed him to achieve the desired result. If not without the help of an overly pathetic finale, which looks like a kind of concession to the requirements of the time and the need to place the “right” from an ideological point of view accents.
But even this crescendo did not make Requiem more understandable and accessible to Soviet audiences, leaving the film beyond the attention of both the public during the “late stagnation” and the “era of perestroika”, when interest was much more “dissident” works than “neither fish nor meat” by Olav Neuland. But this is not a reason to forget about the film today, when the appeal to the director for peace and harmony acquires a new urgency.