At the Movies: The Western Lens on Russian Characters and Culture -

Although major cinema festivals worldwide have excluded films made by Russian directors this year, Russia is far from absent from movie theaters in the West. Foreign filmmakers have continued to explore the Russian context, incorporating Russian characters and themes into their films. These portrayals range from depictions of villainous figures to brilliant, complex characters. Some of these films have been panned for their stereotypical or negative representations, while others have been celebrated for their nuanced approach to Russian identity and culture.

In these films, Russia is often depicted as a land of stark contrasts, where power dynamics, political tensions, and historical legacies shape the lives of its people. Foreign directors frequently use Russia as a backdrop to explore broader themes such as corruption, moral ambiguity, and the struggle for survival, sometimes offering a critical view of Russian society. In other cases, Russia is portrayed as a mysterious, even romanticized land, full of drama and intrigue.

These films, though not necessarily made by Russian filmmakers, contribute to shaping how the West perceives Russia, often reflecting the complex geopolitical tensions between the two regions. Whether through the lens of thriller, drama, or historical fiction, the Russian context continues to captivate international audiences, sparking discussions on identity, power, and the ongoing influence of Russia on the global stage. Despite the absence of Russian-made films at major festivals, the country remains an important subject of cinematic exploration in the West.

One of the most direct Western films to address Russia and Russians this year is The Palace, a satirical comedy directed by Roman Polanski. Set in the Swiss Alps at the turn of the millennium, the film takes place in a luxurious five-star hotel in Gstaad, a favorite retreat for the rich and powerful, particularly wealthy Russians. The story follows a group of elite characters preparing to ring in the year 2000, including a French marquise with two distinct accessories: a small dog fed black caviar and a pink vibrator tucked discreetly in her handbag.

The cast of characters is eclectic, including actors, porn stars, a 97-year-old Texan billionaire with a much younger wife, and a plastic surgeon catering to elderly clients with grotesque, surgically altered faces. A group of “new Russians” arrives in armored jeeps, accompanied by intoxicated women and stern bodyguards, led by Russian actor Alexander Petrov. These guests are seen hauling heavy suitcases filled with money, symbolizing the newfound wealth of Russia’s elite.

As the characters prepare to welcome the new millennium, the Russians are shown drinking excessively yet managing to remain composed. The scene includes documentary footage of Boris Yeltsin’s final New Year’s Eve address to the nation before stepping down as president. The audience watches Yeltsin announce his successor, Vladimir Putin, and one of the Russian characters in the film raises a toast immediately afterward, hinting that while the “end of the world” might not be here yet, it has only been delayed. This moment, full of dark humor, reflects the complex and often cynical view of Russia’s transition into the 21st century, with its political upheavals and the rise of new wealth and power.

Maestro, a biographical film about the renowned American composer and conductor Leonard Bernstein, intricately weaves together his personal and professional life. The film spans from Bernstein’s impromptu debut as the conductor of the New York Philharmonic Orchestra in November 1943 to the emotional struggles during his wife Felicia Montealegre’s illness in the late 1970s. These pivotal moments in his life are framed within the context of an interview with the composer, which bookends the film, offering a reflective lens on his storied career.

One of the key figures in Bernstein’s life and career is Sergei Koussevitzky, a Russian immigrant and esteemed conductor who played a crucial role in shaping Bernstein’s musical development. Koussevitzky, portrayed by Bulgarian actor Yasen Peyankov, was instrumental not only as a teacher but also as a mentor to Bernstein. Born in Ukraine, Bernstein’s roots tie back to Russia, as his mother was from Rovno, Ukraine. Koussevitzky, who had established the first orchestra and music publishing house in the USSR during the New Economic Policy (NEP), is portrayed as a deeply affectionate figure in Bernstein’s life. His bond with Bernstein was strong, and he affectionately called him “Lenochka.” Despite his deep connections to Russia, Koussevitzky’s decision to leave the USSR for Berlin in the 1920s marked the beginning of his enduring relationship with Western music and the arts.

In the film, Koussevitzky is depicted sharing a monologue about Bernstein changing his name to “Burns” to avoid anti-Semitism, though Bernstein declines the suggestion. Koussevitzky was a pivotal figure in helping Bernstein secure his first breakthrough. One of the most iconic scenes of the film recreates the 1943 Tanglewood performance where Bernstein, still an unknown assistant, was suddenly thrust into the spotlight when conductor Bruno Walter fell ill. Faced with an orchestra of brilliant musicians and a critical audience, Bernstein’s performance was a triumph, marking the beginning of his legendary career. As the film shows, this event was a defining moment for Bernstein, with the rest of his career unfolding in the years that followed.

The film highlights the interwoven destinies of Bernstein and Koussevitzky, illustrating the impact of Russian cultural influences on Bernstein’s development and the enduring mentorship that helped shape his path to fame. Through this intricate narrative, Maestro provides a glimpse into the personal and professional forces that propelled one of the greatest musical talents of the 20th century.

In El Conde, a dark comedy by Pablo Larraín, a Russian character plays a significant role in the bizarre reimagining of Chilean dictator Augusto Pinochet as an immortal vampire. The film portrays Pinochet’s closest and most loyal ally, Fedor Krasnoff, as a Russian immigrant and former White Army officer who serves as the dictator’s butler. Krasnoff is depicted as a maniacal executioner, dedicating his life to torturing and killing communists, all while dressed in a tailcoat and fur hat. He engages in affairs with Pinochet’s wife and drinks vodka, infusing the film with a twisted sense of dark humor.

In this macabre narrative, Pinochet himself transforms into a sinister black bird that flies over Santiago, seeking victims and calmly extracting hearts from still-living bodies to prepare a cocktail in a blender. This absurd, gothic portrayal of a dictator draws sharp contrasts between the vampire-like ruler and his loyal butler, highlighting their eerie, monstrous relationship.

The film’s plot is an unsettling commentary on power dynamics, dictatorship, and the fate of nations. It resonates with contemporary events, reflecting the ongoing debates surrounding authoritarian regimes, democracy, and the legacy of political leaders. By blending horror, satire, and history, El Conde uses dark comedy to explore the twisted alliances and machinations that often underpin the rule of despots, while questioning the nature of power and its enduring impact on nations and their people.

At the Venice Film Festival, one notable Russian film made its presence felt: the original 191-minute version of Andrei Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev. Featured in the “Venice Classics” program, this 1966 masterpiece, co-written by Tarkovsky and Andrei Konchalovsky, explores the life and work of the iconic Russian painter of Orthodox Christian religious art, Andrei Rublev.

Upon its completion, Andrei Rublev premiered in Moscow in January 1967 and was subsequently screened at the Cannes Film Festival, where it was shown out of competition and awarded the prestigious FIPRESCI Prize by the International Federation of Film Critics. However, despite this acclaim, the film was heavily censored and not widely showcased in the Soviet Union. Only a limited, sanitized version was released in 1971, while Tarkovsky safeguarded the original cut. Over time, the unaltered version of the film was restored with support from the Italian Ministry of Culture, finally screening at the Venice Film Festival years later.

In a poignant twist of irony, Tarkovsky’s Andrei Rublev now stands as a highly relevant commentary on modern-day Russian reality. The film’s central message echoes a bitter truth: “Humanity has already made all the mistakes and is now simply repeating them.” This theme resonates deeply with contemporary Russian society, offering a striking reflection on the cyclical nature of history and the repetition of past errors. Through its timeless exploration of the human condition and the complexities of history, Andrei Rublev continues to speak volumes about the world, making it a powerful and relevant cinematic work even decades after its creation.