The Wind of Hope For a number of reasons, I know the whole kitchen that Govorukhin tried to show us, and therefore this picture is extremely close to me and I have to pass through every frame of it. Maybe that’s why, even though it’s not a masterpiece at all, something makes me watch this movie over and over again.
Govorukhin is still “the most Soviet director”. Having found himself with the collapse of the USSR, like all old-school filmmakers, in a deep crisis, in the late 90s he was able to find the strength to make films that became an alternative to mass film production. Oddly enough, the alternative of his creations lies precisely in the fact that he continued to shoot about the heroes whom the new capitalist Russia began to forget and in the way that they preferred not to shoot anymore.
And before Govorukhin made successful attempts to explore women's fates. Now he, with his inherent admiration for women, made the heroine of his film an artist and forced to fight with a failed career in the theater, “unmovable”, “non-media”, uncertainty, poverty, stupidity of colleagues and self-flagellation, loneliness and courtship of unnecessary cavaliers, unsuccessful marriages and depression – everything that fights almost 90% of the same non-media, unmoved, lonely, dreaming of any role actresses.
Govorukhin deliberately theatricalizes the performance. In fact, this is a two-act TV show, played in the scenery of two Moscow apartments, and the big noisy world does not concern either these heroes or their history. The world simply doesn't exist. The actress lives with her theater, communal and bosom girlfriend. All the characters of this film, with some exceptions – remnants of a past era, unable to properly find themselves, very lonely. Even the optimist Musya, despite all her four successful marriages, is a very lonely person, not to mention the unhappy Bosyakin, the shabby Gusyatnikov or the poor Vincent.
Russia doesn't seem to be here. Although the features of the petty-capitalist system penetrate into this isolated world. The actress dreams of playing Gertrude in the theater, and the main role in the series with some major director. Dreams have been crushed, desires have become scarce, people are so driven and exhausted that doubtful small luck seems to them the greatest happiness. And the heroine falls in love not with a romantic hero, but with what happened – what came itself, what did not drink and beat, and with some prospect. And that bread. Shame. But in this Govorukhin was true, unfortunately, only in this.
The picture is permeated with both light sadness and sometimes simply uncontrollable idiotic optimism, which, of course, does not add to its truth. It is strange that the distributors did not guess to release this movie for the New Year, in my opinion - this is a great Christmas and New Year story, which is difficult to believe, but I want to believe. Despite the fact that the picture sometimes lacks the lightness inherent in New Year's ribbons, it has the main thing - hope, a ray of light at the end of the tunnel, paternal patting on the shoulder - well, everything will work out, everything will be fine, there will be a holiday on our street.
Of course, I would like the film to be sharper, not so fabulous, not so spicy and pleasant. Even the world of theater and cinema, shown by Govorukhin, is made in a kind of grotesque and appeased style, with soft humor, with friendliness and understanding worthy of Confucius himself. In fact, everything is much more unpleasant, disgusting, scary, hurtful and tougher than it is depicted here. He did not even seem to notice that the old Soviet theater no longer exists, that the theater, in addition to alcohol and the old self-loving “people’s artists”, destroys the royalty, the cult of money, nepotism, commerce, and many other things. I don’t know, maybe he’s really a naive grandfather, making a nostalgic movie, pretending that the yard is still the 70s ... or maybe he just doesn’t know how to do it differently or is afraid that he won’t be able to cope with modernity and will slide into a miserable and shameful monkeying, as is often the case with our masters. Undoubtedly, he sought to achieve the bright lyricism that accompanied the paintings of Danelia, Ryazanov, Kozakov and in some moments, even despite the mobile phones in the frame, he succeeds.
Volunteer played well. Trust her. There are characters. Another thing is that such characters - eternally pouring tears and pouring them all around - are not so interesting to the viewer, at least to me. Dobrovolskaya every time tries to turn the film into a tragedy, and the plot, style, mood, and the line chosen by the director does not allow this, but the life tragicomedy does not come out, the actress is too clamped with her sorrows, and it turns out such a melodrama that could turn into a very cheap performance, if the magnificent Aronov and no less magnificent Abdulov did not bring it to the desired level. In fact, any comments are superfluous here. I do not remember that Abdulov played poorly, and here - in the role of a blonde rustic intelligent electrician with views of a talented artist and her living space - is simply gorgeous. I know people like that. It's one-on-one! Played brilliantly even in moments where the text is completely clumsy and the artist has nothing to play!
Stepanov liked much less. Needless to say, an example of him probably served as the role of Myagkov in Ryazanov. But Myagkov is an actor thinner, more polished, or something. Although he was somewhat overplayed in the “Office novel”, here Stepanov plays with great pressure and somehow can not believe that he is such a fool and aunt. In addition, this is also a typical Soviet stereotype of a scientist-parasitologist: bald-glassed mommy son. Stepanov seemed to me somewhat artificial. Bondarchuk showed himself to be a typical Bondarchuk, and Sevtsov - Pevtsov, Efremov was good in a somewhat template role of an alcoholic actor, however, and he was like a relic of the Soviet era - when the actors ran, occupied the "treshka" on a hangover. Aronova deserves a standing ovation - it was she who in many ways was able to pull this film to the level of lyrical comedy. Lively, bright, joyful, curling space around her, her character is just gushing with ideas and energy! There is no such thing as theater!
Govorukhin shot a New Year's fairy tale, atypical only because most of us have already forgotten how to shoot so. Here reigns iron directorial calculation: the film will watch tired of the dominance of the Western and loving the old Soviet cinema. It really works. I would rather watch The Artist for the fifth time, despite all its fabulousness, than go to some new Russian film. In addition, if you take the overall picture of the characters and circumstances – not so Gvorukhin lied. It’s a movie that is missing and needs to be learned. Because goodness, simple truths among ordinary people, overcoming understandable problems, sympathy – no one has yet canceled. And now it's just not in our movies. Who do we have sympathy for? Thieves, cattle, drugs and majors?
8 out of 10