After the end of the Russian Civil War, Red Army soldier Nikita Firsov returns to his hometown. There he meets Lyuba, whom he has known since childhood. Lyuba lives alone, since her mother has died and her brother has gone somewhere with the Red Army. Nikita begins to visit her frequently. He is in
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This is probably the most comparable to Tarkovsky out of all the Sokurov films i've seen. It's quite reminiscent of Mirror at times, but even more bizarre and abstract.
Not perfect of course, but very impressive for an early effort, and it's full of strangely haunting moments.
Life as existence through time. The wounds of history. Two lost souls between past and future. Our rootedness, uprootedness.
This work of art reveals what cinema can be: a writing through image and sound. A meticulous composition of raw materiality in a poetic logic, letting all elements speak with each other in silence, letting them dance with each other in silence.
Not a perfect film, and challenging at times, but ultimately captures something of "life as a reflection". Non-linear and extremely dreamlike, it clearly owes much to Tarkovsky (especially Zerkalo), in it's attempts to go beyond the surface and capture the inner nature of it's character. Though it is partly based on the work of an author who I haven't read, I found much of it to be tonally very Beckett-ian.
La atmósfera calmada aunque deprimente, es sin duda lo más poderoso en esta ópera prima de Sokurov. El retorno de un soldado revolucionario a la rutina está embargada por una condición trastocada. Parece que ni el amor resuelve este pesar que lo enferma física como existencialmente. El tema del suicidio (o el sacrificio) como un discurso heredado por las normas revolucionarias. La crítica es tan histórica como actual