8/10
Where we learn that truth is always so subjective.
8 January 2020
The construction of this story is complex. And just as we viewers are uncertain about chronology and place as we watch, the main characters are wracked with emotional uncertainty from the start, as we soon discover.

Basically, this story is about a continuing romance between Vera (Maria Bonnevie), a deeply religious believer and Alex (Konstantin Lavronenko), a man who pays only lip service to religiosity. It's also a drama about wayward brothers, Alex and Mark (Aleksandr Baluev) and their questionable personal tactics in business and elsewhere. It's also about family and relationships, often troubled with communication issues between members.

But it's ultimately and tragically about a failure to communicate between husband and wife.

At fade in, we see a car coming fast down a rural slope, heading towards the solitary tree in our foreground, on the far side of the dirt road. A ploughed field sits on the near side of the road, ready for planting. The car swiftly passes our view, to appear again, heading directly for us, now on a rural blacktop. Again, it passes furiously fast and then, with a superbly innovative jump cut, we next see the car in the industrial section of a major city, speeding on the slick, dark road to screech to a halt as a train passes across our vision. In the car, the driver is wounded in his blood-soaked left arm....

It's Mark in the car, who finally stops to enter a house with Alex waiting at the door. Inside, Alex assists Mark by removing a bullet and providing the materials to dress the wound. After which they both sleep.

We next see Alex, Vera and a son, Kir (Maksim Shibayev), and daughter, Eva (Yekaterina Kulkina), on a train bound for the country to take possession of the family house left to Alex by his father. The parents don't talk much; he and the children sleep, while she watches her husband. At the house, they plan to stay, perhaps for the rest of their lives. The house is swept, food is cooked, things are unpacked, they settle in. Vera, though, is obviously troubled and soon she informs Alex that she is pregnant. Before Alex can respond in any manner, she adds a shocking rider, quote: "It's not yours!" There's a ghost of a smile on her lips as she finishes speaking, and looks away into the distance.

So, what does she mean? Alex is speechless, dumbfounded, totally silent - except for his eyes, which speak volumes.

Over the next two hours, we watch Alex as he attempts to come to terms with Vera's admission and claim. He walks away, into the sparse forest and hills. He talks to Mark. He takes the kids out to a neighbor's place. He talks again with Vera, now angrily. He hits her. He sends the kids to a different relative's place. He wants to understand: but he can't. Even this viewer is somewhat puzzled by her words....

Eventually Vera's deeply personal meaning is fully revealed, but only after the tragedy of the miscommunication and subsequent misunderstanding is fully played out to its ironic denouement. The ending - the real end of this story - mirrors the beginning with the same car, same dirt road, same rural setting. But now, there's a fundamental uplifting difference....

The production is exquisite in detail; the director (Andrey Zvyagintsev) again shows his virtuosity with imagery, photography and directing; the acting, especially by the children, is flawless; like The Return (2003), dialogue is sparse but entirely effective; and the sound track, from Arvo Pärt, is suitably sonorous and moody.

Give this effort eight of ten. Recommended for teens and up.

January 7, 2020.
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