Why die? We can fly... Reference tastelessness, it would seem, especially after reading the synopsis. Ahn no. The embodiment of another bizarre scenario by Mikhail Vorfolomeev, who once again managed to cross high feelings and low-grade obscenity in approximately equal ratio.
In the courtyard of the early nineties, so the film is frankly nichebrodsky - starting with the title written with a poster pen, and ending with the interior of the mirror room, furniture for which seems to have been rented in the nearest theater. A significant role in the film is given to money, but the heroes of this opus frankly do not know how to use them in the movies, what in life; the vulgar demonstration of the “superman” package with money once again emphasizes how much. You will not immediately understand whether this is such a banter, or whether it is really this way, according to the director’s presentation, success should look like. Although the hero Nikolai Karachentsov, a latent nobleman, has a somewhat different task here:
- In my forty-five-year life I have earned the right to one evening... and I use it!
The lady of the heart is not far behind:
- I don't want to be broken by poverty. I want to be free! They are free only after the first million.
[In general, domestic prostitutes of the early nineties in the cinema are special creations.] It's not the silicone stars of European magazines using the body as an asset. Here everyone has a broken fate, despair and faith in love. Naive frivolous girls looking for happiness on slippery paths Were they really like that? ]
It seems that everything opposes the bright impulses of the main characters: obsolete Soviet dogmas, hotel employees, the administration, the police ... The surrounding world sees the old man and the slut, while for each other they are an outlet, salvation and true love. They have no place in this world, but the sun is on their side.
For all its drama, the film is quite humorous. There are wonderful conversations:
- Sergey Alexandrovich, let's get drunk! Did you buy cognac? How much did you pay for it?
- Five hundred!
- Pennies. Hour of work.
To date, "Kitty" (the name, by the way, is not at all in the cash register) is extremely naive in its vulgarity, which gave way to the cold calculation of the current days. At the same time, the tape can please with sketches from a nudist beach, a good acting game, and may well turn out to be a balm for those who want to ponostalgize: it perfectly conveys what was happening in the minds of people who received a holiday of disobedience instead of outdated Soviet clamps.
6 out of 10