It comes as no surprise that Larisa Shepitko was married to Elem Klimov, who would later direct the most harrowing war film ever made, 'Come and See (1985).' 'The Ascent (1977)' – Shepikto's final completed film before a premature death – is built in very much the same mould. Set during WWII, the film follows a pair of Soviet partisans who try to secure food for their starving army while evading the occupying German forces. The first forty minutes are agonisingly tense, as the two men drag themselves though the harsh, snow-covered landscape, the world around them completely sapped of life, warmth and colour (indeed, so monotonously drab is the scenery that it literally took me this long to realise that the film was shot in black-and-white).
Following the partisans' capture by German soldiers, the film becomes a cold meditation on loyalty and morality. Whereas Sotnikov (Boris Plotnikov) refuses to betray his army, even under extreme duress, the less resolute Ryback (Vladimir Gostyukhin) attempts to save himself. Is he wrong to do so? Ryback's betrayal is disheartening, but the film doesn't immediately condemn his actions are treacherous; instead, the viewer is forced to consider what their own response might be in such a situation. Shepitko pities Ryback as the Bible pities Judas. Both men betrayed their allies to the enemy, and were forced to watch them executed. However, whereas Judas committed suicide by hanging (at least according to Gospel of Matthew), Ryback finds even that option closed to him – in an excruciatingly taut climax, the belt around his neck becomes unfastened.
'The Ascent' draws its emotional power from Shepitko's astonishing pursuit of realism. I have no doubt that the two principal actors spent days on end clambering across the snow-covered earth on their hands and knees, and, indeed, so convincing is their misery that I actually developed a cold while watching the film (seriously, I did). Interestingly, the film interjects on this reality on several occasions, as Ryback imagines himself making a bid for freedom, and then being gunned down by his German captors. This device, though unusual, works well with its Biblical allegory; Ryback is facing a trial of his worthiness, and, faced with a new dilemma at every turn, he consistently chooses the selfish alternative, his own life the only deciding criteria. At film's end, he is still alive, but the nightmare of war and guilt persists.
Following the partisans' capture by German soldiers, the film becomes a cold meditation on loyalty and morality. Whereas Sotnikov (Boris Plotnikov) refuses to betray his army, even under extreme duress, the less resolute Ryback (Vladimir Gostyukhin) attempts to save himself. Is he wrong to do so? Ryback's betrayal is disheartening, but the film doesn't immediately condemn his actions are treacherous; instead, the viewer is forced to consider what their own response might be in such a situation. Shepitko pities Ryback as the Bible pities Judas. Both men betrayed their allies to the enemy, and were forced to watch them executed. However, whereas Judas committed suicide by hanging (at least according to Gospel of Matthew), Ryback finds even that option closed to him – in an excruciatingly taut climax, the belt around his neck becomes unfastened.
'The Ascent' draws its emotional power from Shepitko's astonishing pursuit of realism. I have no doubt that the two principal actors spent days on end clambering across the snow-covered earth on their hands and knees, and, indeed, so convincing is their misery that I actually developed a cold while watching the film (seriously, I did). Interestingly, the film interjects on this reality on several occasions, as Ryback imagines himself making a bid for freedom, and then being gunned down by his German captors. This device, though unusual, works well with its Biblical allegory; Ryback is facing a trial of his worthiness, and, faced with a new dilemma at every turn, he consistently chooses the selfish alternative, his own life the only deciding criteria. At film's end, he is still alive, but the nightmare of war and guilt persists.