Fear and hopelessness on the Bolotnaya Square After Crimea, Donbass and Syria, the mass rallies of 2011-2012 look like an echo of a naive and long-gone era. No one in those years could imagine that the joy of unity would be replaced by fear of helplessness because of the Bolotnaya case, and bold plans would turn into attempts to survive against the background of acts of intimidation and state bans. One episode of the film “Putin Forever?” captured the meeting in the cramped, packed office of Solidarity: Boris Nemtsov, with a mixture of optimism and pragmatic distrust, assesses the plans for the upcoming protests. Hardly anyone could have imagined that Nemtsov in a few years will be killed, and the largest actions will be held in the form of marches of mourning and memory.
"Putin forever?" Kirill Nenasheva and Maria Muskevich recall an era when it was possible to go out and demand something more than an objective investigation into a murder (and this requirement is increasingly reminiscent of a pipe dream). What did those who attended thousands of rallies do? Have any of the declarations that followed been implemented? Perhaps not enough time has passed to assess the historical role of the events of 2011-2012. But the emotional results seem timely.
The film has two main characters - Vsevolod Chernozub represents the "protest" side, and a former hippie nicknamed Thiel, aka Vitaly Morozov, is "patriotic." If you do not look back on personal assessments, then Vsevolod is not only a hero, but also a storyteller, with whom the camera follows the most important events of the Moscow protests. Through his reflection, his attempts to understand what is happening, viewers can assess the mood of those days - from inspiration to disappointment, from joy to anger. Thiel is an “anti-hero,” a comic bearded man who reads long speeches about the benefits of massacres. Reflection is not peculiar to him: he thinks in a single scheme. The film's strongest moment is when Thila and Chernozub are brought face to face at a chess table in a cafe. Vsevolod becomes numb with horror, listening to the dreary conspiracy heresy about hostile information flows and the worldwide anti-Russian conspiracy.
Why did Thiel, the ridiculous madman who most of the United Russia electorate would never take for their own, get into the movie? An ordinary visitor of the “anti-Maidan” or a voter of “United Russia” is not very interesting to the authors of the film: these people are groundless, politics is an alien matter for them. Thiel has not only an original view of the world, but also gives the film a vital comic relief, an element of the comedy of the absurd.
The comedy is necessary because the film is excessively, unjustifiably dark: it does not tell about what happened after May 6, 2012 (limited to the facts in the credits), but carries the burden of dark years marked by political processes and murders. The titles of parts of the film (Chapter Two: Fear, Chapter Three: Desperation) are becoming more hopeless and desperate, and their despair contrasts with the visual series. The credits declare that there will be fear now, and there will be no fear! The camera operator Yevgeny Yakovlev with incredible attention follows the most interesting moments of rallies and actions, and the editing and comments give the inspiring shots an ominous shade. The musical accompaniment closer to the final acquires the character of a mad dance. The phantasmagoric nature of the narrative does not fit with its pragmatic and mundane content.
But I have to remember that it actually was. That every time inspiration, passion and readiness for great achievements were followed by disappointment, laziness and fear. That the loud declarations of the “protest leaders” were always lost behind the cold, inactive reality. To the final credits, you involuntarily ask questions to which there is and cannot be an answer. Would Nemtsov be just as careful if he knew that his life would end at Bolshoi Moskvoretsky? Would he discourage his associates from taking more drastic—and more dangerous—actions? Could history have taken a different path? Why was Chernozub forced to emigrate, and Thiel attended the screening of “Putin Forever?” at the Artdocfest, cheerfully performed on stage in front of the audience and, to slurs and laughs, confirmed his loyalty to his bloodthirsty theories? Who will write future history books?
The film turned out to be encyclopedic not even in the sense that it presented all the major events of the protests of 2011-2012 (many were inevitably missed), but in that it reflected the emotions and reflections of one person during several very important months of our history. Through the assessment of the characters of the film, you remember and feel the special air that Moscow breathed in the winter of the twelfth. “Putin Forever?” ends suddenly, almost in half-word, where the Bolotnaya case was supposed to begin; but this is a completely different story, which is terrible without any reservations and conventions. We have to admit that Putin is indeed forever: forever for Nemtsov and other victims of political assassinations, forever for political prisoners who spent the most productive years of their lives in prison. These years will not be returned, neither to them nor to the whole country.