The film was shot qualitatively, consistently, quite in detail, but somehow immediately repulsive. Starting with the avoska, this inappropriate avoska will repeatedly fit into the frame, apparently as a symbol of the Soviet era. A barbed wire fence would do better. The hero of the film turned out tragicomic, like a caricature, he is alive only in documentary materials.
A big question arises to the form of the narrative - lynching. Sakharov himself writes about his life path in such a way that there were different actions in it - there was something to be proud of, there was something to feel ashamed for: I am not going to dwell on this in the future - not because I want to leave the reader with an exaggeratedly perfect idea of myself, but out of dislike for self-flagellation, self-digging, exhibitionism. ..."
You can watch the film to make your own opinion about it, but it is better to read Memories.
I have never written a review, this is my debut.
I still had a good time watching the movie 30 minutes ago. On August 14, 2022, we drift further away from humanistic values. It is unlikely that the film is fantastic, it is just good, but in overlay with the current reality it creates an implosion effect.
Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov’s conversation with conscience actually reflects the current mood. At a time of total uncertainty and insanity of historical events, we are engaged in a deep dialogue. This dialogue is a consequence of the transformation of the personality, the definition of oneself in a new form. In the context of the film, this transformation comes from Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov, who creates a bomb of incomparable monstrosity to supposedly prevent war; to Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov, a bearer of humanistic values, a human rights defender of people mutilated by the state.
A lot of hatred for the film because of not following real events, because of the artistic decisions brought to it. But they (artistic solutions) play a key role in immersivizing the narrative, in provoking us to a dialogue, which Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov himself once came to.
Personally, it is strange to see reviews where the film is disassembled into separate components. I may be an amateur, but I think this film should be seen as a whole. As if this movie wasn’t made to please you. I think that Ivan Proskuryakov and other creators deliberately filmed a phenomenon, a cultural precedent that will remind you of Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov as a figure that should be equaled or at least remembered.
A rare type of film in Russian cinema in the genre of postdoc: documentary basis + artistic reconstruction with far-reaching conclusions. That's good, but... In the beginning we read that the film is based on real events and words. And that raises big questions.
First, the good thing, the form. She's playful and interesting enough to spend 2 hours in this world. Reconstructions, minimalism, documentary footage, rhythm - the form works. The first thing that's embarrassing is the tone. Usoltsev undeservedly twists Sakharov from a Soviet intellectual into a literal autistic, but you can get used to it. Khamatova works in the format of a speaking conscience, which greatly simplifies the fate of the hero to understandable ideological slogans. And it starts to get annoying very quickly. Irritation increases when Sakharov’s words turn into outright forgeries.
Sakharov would be greatly surprised if he learned that he did not love his first wife Clava, that he reduced his scientific work to passion, that he cried because of the results of the tests, and so on. Tough quotes, like the phrase “Zeldovich’s back,” are put in the scientist’s mouth, although in Sakharov’s memoirs they belong to others. Khamatova's voice always throws up lines based on the position - you worked for cannibals, the bomb was made by moral freaks, all this is inhuman, a hellish weapon for a hellish dictator. Self-indulgence is a clear exaggeration Exaggeration is an acceptable technique in the postdoc genre. The problem is that the artistic reinterpretation of documentary cannot come at the expense of blatant distortion and substitution of context. Conjectures can exist in gray areas, but not in specific formulations.
Sakharov himself in his Memories adheres to a clear and understandable position. Even a superficial reading of materials that are written in the late period of life gives a completely different picture. Sakharov knows what he's doing. It's not just passion. It's also about responsibility. The repentance the authors insist on does not occur. At least that's rude. Sakharov’s views have evolved step by step since his student years, bringing him closer to human rights activities. In his countless articles and interviews, Sakharov gives a monumental liberal, progressive approach to the problems of the USSR and the whole world. It should not be re-invented by crude formulations in the mouth of conscience. Instead of using the postdoc to expand the hero’s potential, filmmakers take one rather weak key – a dialogue with conscience – and ride the entire film on it. And when it comes to human rights activities, the film slides into a very superficial and toothless story.
It is clear that cinema simplifies reality. But the obvious propaganda is equally stupid on either side. The filmmakers want to quote their own creation: "You're an intelligent, educated person, how could you believe propaganda - this is a forgery..." Oh, you did it yourself.
You have to watch the movie and compare it to today. Very useful. See what kind of poem I found on the topic in old poems by S. Mikhalkov-gymniuk. It is called "About the Soviet Atom", 1951. “We have recently put our strength to the test, we are heartily satisfied - the achievements are good! Everything went well, exploded where needed! We are happy with the result – the Soviet atom is not bad!
I understand, of course, that you have to be good. But, apparently, I did not become good, but became bad, because the film seemed terrible in terms of the interesting viewing.
What about Sakharov? You're going to propose a film about the Sakharov Prize winner, the noble bastard Navalny. Who with a powerful willpower survived the poisoning of Novichok, absolutely deadly poison. . .
You're part of the Gulag. I'm part of scientific and technological progress!
I'm 20 years old. I am part of Generation Z, people born at the dawn of the 21st century in Russia. We know nothing more about Sakharov than excerpts from the textbook: “Sakharov is the creator of the hydrogen bomb.” What kind of man was he? Why did he create this destructive weapon? Who wanted that? Why? Was he married? Who did you love? Did you love him at all?
The new film by Ivan Proskuryakov and Roman Super "Sakharov". Two Lives is a great opportunity to talk to young people about a very important period in the history of our country, the Cold War. I am quite sure that this film will attract the approval of my generation, it is one of the few Russian films for which there is no shame. The new Proskuryakov and Supera film is not a documentary, not a feature film, it is something completely new. The filmmakers very harmoniously and "deliciously" mix footage newsreels of the second half of the twentieth century, Soviet interiors and costumes, and modern special effects. Operating work is beyond praise. From the composition of individual frames breathtaking! The authors keep up with the times and feel what format attracts the audience. Before us is an interview, a genre that is now through the efforts of Dudya, Shikhman, Sobchak, Gordeeva, Solodnikov and many, many others is now experiencing its revival, flowering.
This film is special, very unusual, it is shot on behalf of the main character, Andrei Sakharov, whose role is played by the brilliant Alexei Usoltsev. Sakharov talks to a faceless woman behind the scenes, as it later turns out, she is his Conscience. I found the choice of actress very remarkable and very accurate. The role of Conscience of Sakharov is played by Chulpan Khamatova. And here we find a clear parallel between her own personal fate and Andrei Sakharov’s: both are remarkably caring people, both compromise for the benefit of others, both are undeniably talented in their callings.
The words of Andrei Dmitrievich’s confession were taken from personal diaries and public speeches. In the first half of the film, monologues in which anticipation, euphoria, excitement from the creation of a deadly “product”. Words astounding, touching, tender - about the second wife of the scientist, Luce. A monstrous narrative about the Gorky exile, a hunger strike, followed by a delightful, warm and cheerful description of a foreign tour.
"Sakharov." Two Lives is a story about an endless struggle with oneself and the world around. The whole life of Andrei Dmitrievich Sakharov is the path of a scientist from the creation of the most dangerous weapons in the world to the complete denial of these weapons, from justification of political repression to human rights protection, from indifference to compassion.
"Sakharov." Two Lives is a manifesto of pacifism, a tribute to a great scientist and a very courageous man who dreamed of changing the world for the better.
It is sad that in the film the viewer notices many parallels with today. Militarists still dominate our country. It is still important for us to know that we have the most, the most, the most automatic weapons. We are running out of free speech again. We're bad with America again. We are still dangerous to ourselves and the world around us. But where is he, Sakharov of the XXI century?
The film is about the man who saved the USSR, but in the end destroyed it.
Risky film about academician Andrei Sakharov. It is even surprising to see him in modern times, as Sakharov is obviously an uncomfortable figure in official political iconography.
However, this is not quite a feature film, and, perhaps, passes through a completely different department, rather, a scientific pop or a solo performance. A detailed story about the life of a famous scientist by one actor - Alexei Usoltsev, and even voices behind the scenes - "Conscience" performed by Chulpan Khamatova.
And, alas, the movie was very successful. What is shown touches and even makes you cry in places, and “alas”, because it will surely cause a wave of rejection in the camp of hyperpatriotic Russians, rejection and insults.
“Who are we talking about,” these people will say, “the man who made the deadliest bomb to protect the communist Soviet Union, or the man whose efforts brought the Soviet Union down.” What part of his life do we accept, the first, the second, both, or both? What part are you proud of?
In this question there is the “truth” that Sakharov is a truly evolved man. Like Lenin, who started as a left-wing Bolshevik, but came to the necessity of the NEP. Or like Putin, who began as a student and associate of democrat Sobchak, and ended up as a self-sufficient authoritarian. Sakharov began as a Soviet militaristic scholar serving the Politburo, and graduated as a world-renowned dissident humanist with a draft Utopian Constitution and a world-renowned essay, Reflections on Progress, Peaceful Coexistence and Intellectual Freedom.
How did this happen?
He just saw what the Explosion did. Burned dogs. And I tried to fix it. You say, do I need evolution? But his colleagues saw the explosion and burned dogs and did not evolve by a millimeter. Genius has evolved.
In the film, I saw only two possible compromises with invisible censorship. The first part, where a monster is diligently sculpted from Sakharov, is too heavy, the irony will not be read and part of the public can be taken literally. Monster. Dexter. Autistic. Here is your cult dissident humanist who wanted to destroy America, and the Soviet generals stopped him. And in the second part, where Sakharov becomes a democratic deputy at the Congress of People's Deputies, "Conscience"-Khamatova reproaches him that he again went to serve the state. After all, ' Nineties' - they are also ' Damned', like their iconic heroes. But the state of 1989-1991 is a completely different state, it is a unique state of hope, and such a rebuke by Khamatova’s voice is hardly relevant.
A child with the brains of God? Maybe just Android Andrey Dmitrievich?
The monkey has become weak in old age;
And the people she heard,
That this evil is not so much of a hand:
It is only worth getting glasses.
She got glasses from half a dozen to herself;
The squirrels are like this:
Then he will pull them down, then he will pull them down.
They will smell it, they will lick it.
The glasses don't work...
This needs to be seen. We need to see this. Because 'Sakharov. Two lives & #39; this is us. It's each of us. Youth and wisdom are in touch with each other. One me, look at me, another. Always? Always happens? Having come to a crossroads in his mature years, another is afraid to change anything and, realizing the depth of his errors, continues to play the same role. Breaking myself, overcoming myself. The other, rethinking - goes to a new level. Yeah, I was wrong. Yes, an adjustment is necessary.
Two hours of screen time for the biography of a great man. Two hours to talk about life, work, and the quest of genius. Documentary-game narrative affecting the person, politics, power. XX century. From '45 to '89, we're on the swing of history. Stalin, Khrushchev, Andropov, Gorbachev in the background of shadows on the track of the path of the atomic star. Is he for them or are they for him? More like the first.
Presentation to the country of the controversial obstinate. The father of the hydrogen bomb and the Gorky prisoner are talking with conscience. Confession? Crying? Excuse? Politics. It's like his world of calculation. Big kid for the audience. A bit clumsy, baggy, awkward. So was Andrei Dmitrievich? Or maybe this is an exaggeration made by the author of the film? But for what? Why? To make this somewhat awkward, ridiculous person understand? He's not of this world. Not from the world! 'The monkey to old age has become weak eyes ...' - and the Stalinist guard can applaud. Indeed, caressed with prizes 'horse' suddenly he became obstinate, obstinate, moreover - rusted, refuses to jump. Whip him on the sides! Whip! In instruction! In passion! Go crazy? Yeah. Well, and no, that's why he had everything, everything was to him possessing power ' given' and he, a bastard, is above himself ' Gods' set! It's his business.
But no less ' gifted' Lev Landau winged this very ' slaveholding junk' on what the light stands: Our system, as I have known it since 1937, is definitely a fascist system, and it has remained so and cannot change so easily. As long as this system exists, it was never possible to entertain hopes that it would lead to something decent, in general it is even ridiculous. If our system cannot peacefully collapse, then World War III is inevitable, with all the horrors that lie ahead. Ours are fascists from head to toe. They may be more liberal, less liberal, but their ideas are fascist.39 That's it! It is a sign of equality between them. Two outstanding minds ' made calculations ' on all these ' comrades '
On the path of idleness and on the path of torment, this picture is broken. Happiness there, happiness and after-happiness? Yes! Happiness too! How so? Is it possible? Turns out it's possible. In the First Life, euphoria (as the character says) comes from the realization of his ideas. Laboratories, titles, money, science, bigotry and, as a result, the product. It's a world-renowned product! In the second - from the Handle of the World of civil position. I know, as if the academician says, how exactly it is necessary & #39; so that both wolves and sheep are fed & #39; And fighting. The fight is there, the fight is here. All of yourself with no future left. Nothing has changed. Same thing. Only the direction of thought has changed.
Thanks to the director's idea, peering into the sophisticated light of fine matter', you involuntarily ask yourself the question - did the academic solve the problem that enslaved his brain in the second part of life? I guess so. After all, nuclear collapse in the exchange of missile strikes, countries avoided. They disarmed, and each other’s opinions were not empty. Moreover, the USSR even ruined everything thanks to the breadth of the Russian soul. We have no shores. We don't have those shores. Drunk from freedom instantly. And we're extraordinarily dumb. It's a hangover in the morning. And in the morning, a sore head with ' a rash'. Look around, it turns out by its naivety, we are all, well, almost everything ' fukali'. Once again, it's time to roll up the sleeves of the stumps and the roots to twist on the field. Neighbors have this, uh, yield. They look at us, they laugh. And we're back at the very... Yeah. Right there. In the ass. Thank you! Thank you, Andrey Dmitrievich. Too! For what? That's it!
Confusion? Inconsistency? Where's the conclusion? Clear, clear, clear. Based on the film. By impression. Alas, he's gone. Why is that? So even Sakharov, talking with conscience, not once pressed against the wall, kartvit nasavya - Life is a complex thing! Life is complicated! What do you want from me?
We are the most powerful and proud people.
We're the right guy in life.
He's wearing a blue jacket.
He is strict, he knows what is wrong.
Tell us, tell us, big man.
What do we do with snow and snow?
Comrade Medvedev is not visible?
Follow me, don't (part) brains
P.S. I went to school from seventh grade. He received his primary education at home. Communication skills with peers, zero. At the age of 48, thanks to his second marriage, he discovered many new things, for example, mushroom soup.
Who were you, Andrei Dmitrievich? A man? An android?
7 out of 10