User Reviews (53)

Add a Review

  • jacksflicks8 September 2009
    I agree with another reviewer, this is such a shattering film, that will be tough to watch again soon, though for quality alone, it deserves repeated viewing. The complexity of the characters, the incredible cinematography and superb direction make this movie worth the emotional price of watching.

    There is one scene, of the two partisans dragging themselves through the snow to escape a patrol, that's perhaps, for sheer physicality, the most amazing performance I've ever seen. In fact, though not episodic -- the story flows -- this is a movie of memorable scenes. There's the passing of rations amongst the partisans, the snow scenes, the ruined farm scene, the encounters in the houses, the interrogation, the "basement" scene, the "ascent". All stand out like jewels in a necklace.

    For me, the religiosity isn't overt. Frankly, I don't think it would have been permitted in a Soviet film. I do see this as an existential parable about the value of life. Here is a tale where the hero -- and he is a true hero -- becomes the villain, and the weaker one becomes the stronger one. Is this a mystical process or one dictated by circumstances? There is a transfiguration, but does it come from within or without? You must see the movie to understand the issues, for they can't be discussed without giving away too much of the story. I can't say enough about the acting. It's hard for me to choose which of the leads is more affecting. I'm not familiar with Soviet film of the 70s and am not familiar with any of the actors, but they are all superb. I also note how director Larisa Shepitko uses children. They remind me of Giotto's child angels.

    There is a little muddling in the end. There is apparently a prior relationship between the soldier Sotnikov and the interrogator Portnov, but this is left dangling. And the final scene is a bit ambiguous. But compared to the total experience these are quibbles. This is a movie that will mark you for life.
  • Is one's life the most valuable thing one can possess? Are all ideals and philosophies mere fallacy, not worth sacrificing one's life for? These are the questions this film touches upon. And does so brilliantly.

    By today's standards, the film might be viewed as somewhat slow-paced and indeed, without giving too much away, certain scenes are a bit stretched out and in my opinion, could have been made shorter for stronger emotional impact. Nonetheless, the amazing performance by all the main actors kept me glued to the screen most of the time. The hopelessness and the terror of war, intensified by the unforgiving Russian winter, permeates the film from start to finish.

    The film presents us with food for thought not covered much by modern cinema, touching upon something that isn't often discussed openly in modern society. We avoid it because it lurks inside each of us and we fear it - venality and betrayal in face of death.

    Our life is everything we know - the entire world ends with it, as Portnov, the Nazi interrogator says in the film. Would YOU sacrifice it for something? For anything? This film will force you to ponder this question and reflect on your values and yourself as a human being.
  • This intense dramatic examination of the effect of battle on two soldiers thrown together by the circumstances of World War II is brutal and often difficult to watch; it is a black and white film, and since most of the action occurs in the snow, it sometimes approaches the look of an abstract painting.

    In what is now Belarusa, the two men from different backgrounds are ordered to leave the camp to find food; on the way they encounter Nazi soldiers and are captured along with members of local peasantry; interrogation and torture follow. The film is less about action and more about the struggle to find meaning in battle, a struggle for the soul's integrity. This is a new release from the Criterion Eclipse series and is exquisitely remastered; be warned it is not an action film, and more a potent examination of human behavior under the worst sorts of stress; it can be a powerful viewing experience for some, and like Elem Klimov's Come And See, a revelation in many ways.
  • In the Belarus of 1942, two Soviet soldiers are captured by Nazi-friendly Belarusians. In captivity, the attitude of the two men toward their fate differs greatly. One of the soldiers manages to find an inner strength and spirituality, incomprehensible to the other man. Larisa Shepitko's last film is one of the most beautiful war films in cinema history. The cinematography, by Vladimir Chuchnov, is incredible - particularly in the opening sequence, where long, slow, tracking shots depicting the solitude and almost desperate nature of winter landscape in rural Belarus set the mood perfectly. It is easy to draw comparison to Tarkovsky's films, even more so since Tarkovsky's alter ego Anatoli Solonitsyn has a small but important part in The Ascent. The acting is overall brilliant, especially by Boris Plotnikov, in the part of Sotnikov. The film reveals an old-fashioned belief in the strength of religious passion, which feels related to characters such as Dostoyevsky's Prince Myshkin, or Tarkovsky's Stalker. However, this is not a weakness of the film, but rather one of its greatest strengths. The religious content seems so honest, and human, that it is impossible not to be moved. The emotional richness of the film cannot be overstated; the answer is not as simplified as a short summary of the plot would make you think. The slow development of the characters, and the emphasis on their complicated relationships to each other, are somewhat reminiscent of The Commissar, another great Soviet film. The Ascent deserves a second watching, as well as a third, and a tenth. It continues to provide interesting ideas, beautiful images, and emotional complexity.
  • MacAindrais17 September 2008
    The Ascent (1977)

    Larisa Shepitko is a name very few are familiar with. Her bright career as a director only lasted a single decade, ended abruptly by a tragic car accident. Despite her short career, she however managed to create some of the best Soviet films of her time. Her last film, The Ascent, is widely regarded as one of the finest Soviet films of the 1970s. Nevertheless, her work remained in obscurity throughout the years that followed, usually only available on rare and poor copies on video. That has now changed thanks to the folks at Criterion. They've released two of Shepitko's best works through their Eclipse department - Wings, and her penultimate masterpiece The Ascent.

    Set during the darkest days of WWII in snowy rural Russia, two partisans trudge their way across the land in search of food after their party is attacked by Nazi patrols. They're originally only to go to a nearby farm, but when they arrive they find it razed by the Germans. Not wanting to return empty handed, they continue on deeper into enemy territory. Along the way they must confront not only enemy soldiers, but the harsh conditions of the Russian plains, potential betrayal and their own souls.

    The movie does not fall into simplistic plot devices or destinations. It addresses difficult questions with painful rationality. It never takes the easy road or gives us comforting answers. The second half of the film is filled with moral dilemmas. Shepitko shows us the intimate horrors of war through the internal conflict between fellow Russians - those who collaborated and those who fought back. While she does show the collaborators as the clear heels, she nevertheless also shows why many turned to such tactics - survival.

    The film contains a number of religious references, particularly to the lead up to the crucifixion. This is a spiritual journey, into the hearts, souls, and minds of the two partisans and those they encounter. Shepitko and her cinematographer capture the journey in beautiful black and white photography. The camera moves in long shots, similar to the camera-work of another of Russia's greatest filmmakers, Andrei Tarkovsky. Shepitko, like many others, was clearly influenced by Tarkovsky's style, and the Ascent takes some of its rhythmic notes from Ivan's Childhood. It is a stunning film to look at, and does a fantastic job of capturing the cold and terrifying atmosphere of occupied Russia.

    Shepitko's husband would pay homage to her great film a decade later. Elem Klimov made his own war masterpiece with one of the greatest films I've ever seen - Come and See. The story and themes of that film were clearly influenced by The Ascent. Though that film is also a fairly obscure one, it received far more attention that any of Shepitko's films. That however acted as a bridge to Shepitko, and has been one of the best helps to keeping her work alive.

    The Ascent is a truly magnificent film, and rightly should be considered one of the best films of the 70s. It's stunning cinematography is inspiring; its mood is frighteningly authentic; and its lessons are unforgettable. It is, in any definition of the word, nothing less than a masterpiece. How unfortunate that Shepitko's career was cut short just as it was hitting its peak.
  • Warning: Spoilers
    Shepitko is the wife of Russian filmmaker Elem Klimov, who directed the more commercially known 1984 film COME AND SEE, generally regarded as one of the most realistic war films ever, bar none, notable for its searing poetic intensity, but I believe it lacks the inner complexity of this even greater Russian film, which examines not just the graphic outer horrors, but she finds truly inspiring images focusing on individuals or small groups of characters that reflect the absolute insanity taking place inside these human beings, the ending of which is simply awe-inspiring. Bullets are flying and bodies are dying in a gun skirmish over the opening credits, where the intensity of the film never lets up throughout the duration, focusing on grim faces, worn out soldiers with next to nothing to eat, a terrified population under occupation, starving children with petrified mothers, all cast in an immense landscape of endless white snow. Like CRANES ARE FLYING (1957), this features a Russian army in retreat, a traumatizing shock early in the war when they were nearly wiped out. The Russian countryside has been overrun by German Nazi's who are terrorizing the citizens, stealing what food they have, forcing them under duress to become their informant eyes and ears. What Russian soldiers are left hide under cover of forests, but are forced to send food expeditions to neighboring farms. This film follows two soldiers that from the outset are on a near impossible mission, as there's little food left anywhere in the dead of winter. One is healthy and fit, Vladimir Gostyukhin as Rybak, while the other, Boris Plotnikov as Sotnikov, is slowed down by a tubercular sounding cough and eventually a bullet in his leg that nearly leaves him for dead, but his partner heroically rescues him. As they step through knee deep snow drifts, crawling at some points with insufficient protection against the harsh elements, like so many other Russian films, nature itself becomes their toughest foe.

    Spoilers!! Everything is reduced to a matter of survival. When they reach their destination, the farm has been demolished and left in a state of rubble, pushing forward into German occupied territory where the next farm is manned by an elderly Soviet collaborator who fears Nazi retribution. The partisan soldiers think him a coward but move on, where they are eventually captured and brought to a Nazi camp in a nearby town and held as prisoners, along with a proud and protective mother (Lyudmila Polyakova) who helped hide them. Tarkovsky stalwart Anatoli Solonitsyn appears as Portnov the interrogator, a Russian teacher from a nearby academy turned Nazi sympathizer. Russians torturing and executing fellow Russians is the depth of war depravity and Solonitsyn is brilliant in the despicable role he's perfectly suited for. From what we can see, as Nazi officers chat jovially in close proximity to one another, he is an outsider even among this group, seen instead as a kind of gruesome black-cloaked undertaker who routinely sends men to their graves. The audience is not spared from witnessing acts of torture on Sotnikov, who offers nothing but contempt, while Rybak speaks freely, hoping to save his life, but both are condemned to die, though Rybak is offered a chance to serve the German Reich as a police agent. The mother, the elderly collaborator, and a child are added to this group, spending one last night together alive where together they discuss the merits of a soldier's mission, of being a patriot, a mother, a coward, or a collaborator. Each seems individually driven by a desperate need to survive, but Sotnikov offers himself as a selfless example, attempting to confess his guilt to spare the others, where the aptly chosen title reflects his spiritual redemption.

    By the next morning, Portnov seems mildly amused, mocking them at their sudden willingness to talk, but spares no one except Rybak, who changes sides to keep his life, rationalizing in his thoughts that if he's alive, at least he has a chance to escape. But there is no escape—not from this torment. What happens is shown with exquisite delicacy and poetic grace, as we witness the treachery of war without a single shot being fired, as the execution by hanging is turned into a public spectacle, where the villagers at the point of a gun are forced to witness. The pace and harrowing intensity of this film is relentless, as there is never a moment without impending menace, gorgeously shot by Vladimir Chukhnov (who died in the same car accident as Shepitko), featuring perfectly composed landscapes and plenty of camera movement, much of it at close range using portraitures, especially that of a fierce young boy at the end who eyes the condemned men, who makes a surreal connection to the next generation without any words being spoken, accentuated by the psychologically horrific music of Alfred Shnittke which resembles the transcendent yet furiously disturbing monolith music from Kubrick's 2001: A SPACE ODYSSEY (1968). The sound design of this film is highly advanced and uniquely modern, where the use of off screen sound continually exposes the raw nerves of each moment, dogs barking, wind blowing, bullets firing, nearby Nazi's chattering in untranslated German or laughing sadistically at their helplessness, which only ratchets up the hideous tension to insane heights. In many ways resembling Dreyer's THE PASSION OF JOAN OF ARC (1928), utter insanity is exposed here, the relentless realization that you have no choice, yet you are forced to make one anyway. The nightmarish inner thoughts at the end are expressed wordlessly, where the nobility of the dead speaks volumes, where voices continue to reverberate inside the heads of the living like an explosion of neverending echoes, yet only silence fills the crisp wintry air with a mournful reverence and a profound sense of loss.
  • Larisa Shepitko's THE ASCENT (1976) is an extraordinary, gruelling account of the partisans' fight against the Nazis in German-occupied Belorussia, The Ascent reflects the Russian obsession with the horrors of the Great Patriotic War, but unusually is both steeped in religious symbolism and ready to acknowledge the existence of the less than great Russian collaborator. The true battle is not with the Nazis, who hover in the background as mere extras, but between the Russian Nazi investigator and Sotnikov, the captured partisan who finds the spiritual strength to go to his death unbeaten. With its many references to the Crucifixion, the story takes on heroic proportions glorifying the sufferings of the martyr and his influence on future generations. A remarkable piece of work.
  • Having just seen this, I find it hard to believe that it is not better known. This and the slightly-better-known, but almost-as-shamefully-neglected COME AND SEE (Klimov, 1986) must be two of the greatest war films. They are meaningful, powerful, incisive. THE ASCENT is also gifted with a sparingly-used, but brilliantly trenchant score by Schnittke.
  • alan-12520 January 2001
    Warning: Spoilers
    A stunningly harrowing account of two soldiers plight in WWII. Set against a freezing backdrop of, not only the fight against the Nazis and traitors in Belorussia, but the harsh natural elements, this film tells a tale of two soldiers of polarized morals, one who survives, but finds it somewhat impossible to deal with his own circumstances, and one who dies, having done all that can be done in the face of intimidation and everything possible to break one's spirit, in fact, the "ascendant" of the title. A film that should be seen by all, particularly for the phenomenal performances of the main characters, and shuddering set pieces (the incarceration and hanging scenes, in particular. An absolute must see.
  • Warning: Spoilers
    The Ascent is the fourth and final feature of Soviet director Larisa Shepitko, who tragically died in a car accident at the age of 40, two years after the film's release in 1977. In many quarters, the film is hailed as a masterpiece. Given the simplicity of the story, I would be hesitant to place it in that category but it is nonetheless an impressive piece of filmmaking, with its austere black and white cinematography and great acting by all the principals concerned.

    The film is set during World War II in Belarus, one of the Soviet republics which was subject to the Nazi occupation. The protagonists are two partisans, Sotnikov (Boris Plotnikov) and Rybak (Vladimir Gostyukhin) who belong to a battalion consisting of both soldiers and civilians that come under fire by Germans and forced to flee into the forest in the dead of winter (the snow impacts the landscape throughout the entire narrative).

    Sotnikov and Rybak are ordered to find food as the battalion has run out of supplies and both troops and civilians are on the verge of starvation. The two soldiers first discover a farm they were looking for has been burnt down by the Germans and the inhabitants presumably killed. They find a house inhabited by a "headman" and his wife and conclude he's a German collaborator as he still has foodstuffs and a roof over his head. Sotnikov and Rybak take a farm animal for food but decide not to execute the headman.

    During an encounter with Germans, Sotnikov is shot in the leg and is severely injured. Sotnikov is on the verge of killing himself with his own shotgun but Rybak heroically drags him to another cottage, where they find a woman, Demchikha, and her three children.

    The action turns tragic when the Germans find the two partisans who are hiding in Demchikha's attic and arrest them along with the innocent woman and bring them in for questioning. The film ably highlights the Nazi's cruelty as they arrest Demchikha and ultimately find her guilty of being a partisan along with the two men (the children are cruelly left to fend for themselves in spite of the mother's heartrending pleas).

    Back at German Headquarters, Sotnikov and Rybak are interrogated by Portnov, a member of the Belarusian Auxiliary Police, another German collaborator. The film again ably notes that a good deal of the dirty work was done by locals allied with the Germans. Sotnikov ends up being tortured by Portnov and local collaborationist soldiers (a hot iron is applied to his chest) but he refuses to provide any information in regards to his batallion's position. Rybak, in contrast, tells Portnov everything he knows and is offered a chance to join the auxillary police.

    Meanwhile, the Headman has been accused by the Germans as being a partisan and he, along with Basya Meyer, the teen daughter of a Jewish shoemaker, end up imprisoned along with Sotnikov, Rybak and Demchikha.

    The film's denouement is clearly a mixed bag. Much is made of the contrast between Sotnikov, a Christ-like figure and Rybak, who is called a "Judas" to his face by a townsperson after accepting Portnov's offer to collaborate and acquiescing--watching while his comrades are executed. The reactions of the two are drawn out for maximum melodramatic effect, with Sotnikov bathed in a saintly aura as he goes to the gallows and Rybak, practically tearing his hair out with guilt over his decision to collaborate.

    Despite all the histrionics, Portnov and the Germans are depicted quite realistically, reacting to the entire scene as "business as usual," and confirming the old dictum of the "banality of evil." Demchikha's cries for mercy, in particular, are quite upsetting as they fall on the deaf ears of the monsters who callously ignore her pleas (her appeal is based on the face that she is the mother of three small children).

    The Ascent feels more like a parable than a story based on a completely real incident. The characters aren't completely fleshed out as real people but the emotions here ring true. The religious symbolism may be a bit overwrought with the contrast between courage and betrayal but the story still provides an unflinching glimpse at the power of evil men and the inability of innocents to escape their deadly clutches.
  • Warning: Spoilers
    Even if Voskhozhdeniye was your favorite film it would only be possible to watch it, at most, every ten years. Its just too emotionally strenuous.Widely regarded as Shepitko's finest film, THE ASCENT is the story of partisans operating in the Byelorussian forest in the dead of winter in German occupied Soviet Union.

    While assaulting the audience with the sheer physicality of the wartime experience, particularly the privations of cold and snow, the actual struggle for survival against both nature and the fascists, there is always a subtle, barely inferred sub-text of moral judgment and the question about whether a man can be moral or immoral in one context but otherwise in another.

    A partisan group hiding in the woods is attacked by a German patrol and loses their food supplies. Two men, Rybak, who knows the area, and Sotnikov, a Jewish schoolteacher, are assigned the task of going to a small village for food. They find the village burnt to the ground with nothing edible and nothing more than charred timbers and foundations in which in one cubby hole there's a children's mirror hidden. The overwhelming feeling is that whoever brings the brutality of war to a land and a people become truly cursed. I thought of the war that the Americans and British brought to Iraq and about how bringing the horrors of war to people is the act of a degenerate nation.

    The two move on to a nearby larger village where they obtain, under duress, a lamb from the collaborator headman. The German's arrive and the two partisans escape under fire. Sotnikov is hit in his foot and holds off the German's as Rybak gets away with the lamb. Sotnikov becomes so desperate that prepared not to be taken alive he removes his boot in order to put a bullet into his head. Just then Rybak returns and drags Sotnikov out of the line of fire.

    Rybak drags Sotnikov through the forest, bloody meter by meter all done in one long take. Each meter is an agony and yet he still pulls him through deep snow, up ridges, across depressions, over black bush stumps which crack as they snap under the weight of the men. There are several similarities to the cinematic vocabulary of Tarkowsky here - the long takes documenting a process, the effect of using repetition, and the resulting emotional stress which builds the longer the shot goes on. In the background, unnoticed because of the action, there hangs a question- did Rybak commit an immoral act by going back for Sotnikov? Whether under the moral standards of Marxist-Leninism or merely the common imperative of the survival of the group, wasn't his duty to get the food back to his starving band and leave Sotnikov to cover his escape? To sacrifice one man in order for the group to survive? Which leads to the question - Can a man who is immoral under one philosophical system be expected to be moral under a different moral system? The partisans come as if another curse of war to a farm house containing a woman with three small children. She is embittered by the scourge of war and barely hanging on with her three children. They are barely rested when more Germans show up. They make their way to leave and are directed to the loft to hide.

    Sotnikov's cough gives them away. When a German pops his head in to have a look and no one responds he threatens to fire across the loft and Rybak's nerves break and they are captured. Now who has the moral responsibility here? Sotnikov for coughing or Rybek for cracking? The two partisans and the mother are trussed up and taken to a nearby town passing ominously under a wrought iron arch at the entrance. They find the headman and a small girl already in custody. They are interrogated by a turncoat Byelorussian played by Tarkowsky favorite Anatoli Solonitsyn. Sotnikov keeps his head during interrogation and torture and only asks what the interrogator's prewar profession was? He doesn't answer but from his ease standing behind a desk the likely answer was 'schoolteacher'.

    Rybak on the other hand begs for his life and even offers to join the police. The previously unnoticed character defect, making a 'wrong' moral decision, the ambiguity (sentimentality) of which disguised it from judgment, now becomes obvious, unsettling and very ugly.

    The five sit in a dark cell. They are all scheduled to die the next day. From here the elements of a Christian parable become stronger. Genuine Rembrandt lighting and compositions are used as other Old Master poses of Christ are represented. He decides he can save everyone if he takes on the guilt for everyone. He must be kept alive until morning so he can save everyone. He asks the mother for forgiveness and the headman knowing what is taking place doesn't feel such despair at dying uselessly as he did before.

    Morning comes. The Germans don't care if Sotnikov takes on all of the sins of his companions or not. They will all be hung. They trudge up a steeply inclined street which is a virtual Via Dolorosa. A bench is taken up to the site of execution which is the gateway to the town. Five ropes hang from it. The bench only stands three, so Sotnikov stands on a tree stump which Rybak kicks out from under him. They all are hung.

    As Rybak descend the road with the Germans, someone in the crowd calls him a Judas, an unnecessary allusion, Shepitko's only misstep. Rybak imagines several times being shot in the back trying to escape, dying an honorable death and tries, unsuccessfully, to hang himself in the shithouse, but leaves with the Germans as the beaten dog he is. However if Rybak was morally right to go back and save Sotnikov's life, is he wrong to try to save his own life?
  • I saw "Ascent" in Bombay (dubbed in English) when I was 18, soon after the film was made. I have tried to see it subsequently EVERY TIME it was screened at the local Russian cultural centre. One of the first images in the movie is of a series of telegraph poles in a snowscape, one of which is out of alignment....and you realise that they look rather like the sign of the cross in the Russian Orthodox Church. This is a Judas-Christ parable, with several scenes "composed" like famous paintings of scenes from the Passion. The references and symbolism are endless....in the plot-line, the characters, the mise-en-scene --- the final hanging of the protagonist among "thieves" on a hill (which he has to climb) is a clear reference to Golgotha. The black and white photography is among the most beautiful I have seen; the acting is superb, especially the man playing the protagonist -- though making him a "special agent of the Red Army" is obviously a nod in the direction of Big Brother! I cannot begin to tell you how important this film probably is in world cinema....I use the word "probably" because I am only a film-lover, NOT a film-historian. However, if its available on DVD, PLEASE LET ME KNOW!!!!
  • jboothmillard26 May 2018
    Warning: Spoilers
    I found this Soviet (Russian) film in the 1001 Movies You Must See Before You Die, when I read more into, I found it was selected as the Soviet entry for the Best Foreign Language Film at the Oscars, but was not accepted as a nominee, but it was also rated well by critics, so I hoped for something worthwhile. Basically set during World War II, two Soviet partisans, Sotnikov (Boris Plotnikov) and Rybak (Vladimir Gostyukhin), go to a Belarusian village in search of food. But they are spotted by a German patrol trying to take an animal from the farm of collaborationist headman (Sergei Yakovlev). A large gunfight takes place in the snow, one German is killed, and the two men get away, but Sotnikov (Boris Plotnikov) is shot in the leg, Rybak (Vladimir Gostyukhin) must take him to the nearest shelter. They find the home of Demchikha (Lyudmila Polyakova), mother of three children, however the Germans discover them, and they are captured. The two men and a sobbing Demchikha are taken to the German headquarters. Sotnikov is interrogated by local collaborator Portnov (Anatoli Solonitsyn), a former Soviet club-house director and children's choirmaster, now head of the Belarusian Auxiliary Police and loyal to the Germans. Sotnikov refuses to answer Portnov's questions, despite being brutally tortured by members of the collaborationist police, he gives them no information. But Rybak tells as much as he thinks the police already know, hoping to live and attempt to escape later. The headman is then suspected of supporting the partisans, and teenager Basya Meyer (Viktoriya Goldentul), daughter of a Jewish shoemaker, are imprisoned in a cell together for the night. The next morning, all prisoners are lead out to be hanged, Rybak persuades Portnov and the Germans to let him join the police, while Sotnikov and the others are executed. The villagers vilify Rybak as he heads back to camp with his new comrades, he realises what he has done, he attempts to hang himself with his belt, but he fails. A policeman comes to see Rybak, telling him that their commander wants him, and leaves him alone in the courtyard, Rybak stares out of the door, he begins to laugh and weep. Also starring Lyudmila Polyakova as Demchikha. Filmed in monochrome black-and-white, this film was the fourth and last feature completed by director Larissa Shepitko, before her fatal car crash, it is an interesting story about desperation to survive, cowardice and collaboration, the scenes in the wintery conditions are most memorable, a worthwhile war drama. Good!
  • chengiz14 November 2018
    The cinematography and art direction are wonderful but the movie is let down by a heavy handed and overwrought direction and screenplay style. Aspiring art movie makers tend to go weird when straightforward would work better - this is no different. I suppose the actors would be good normally but they are asked to emote too much. The Jesus-Judas motif is also not very subtle. I didnt even end up feeling empathy for the characters, which should have been easy to do given the story. Russian art movies are usually better than this - this is quite the rare failure.
  • If you have a chance, see this Russian(how should I call them: gems, masterpieces,hidden treasures?), war movies like this one, or The dawns here are quiet, or Proverka na dorogah... And , right after that, watch again the American war movies, or the international productions, those one with the allies and the Germans,etc. Or, even worse, watch the Italian war movies. Everything from the west will seem shallow, contrived, ridiculous, in comparison with the Russian movies. I am sooooo stunned by the quality of the aforementioned Russian war movies that I cannot find the words to praise enough their shattering superiority over Anglo-Saxon war movies.
  • This is one of the very, very few films that are so overwhelming that you are very unlikely to watch it more than once or twice in your lifetime (other examples are Claude Lanzmann's documentary Shoah and Come and See by the director's husband Elem Klimov - which covers much the same unbearable territory but in a very different way).

    I suppose this is just as well given the difficulty of ever seeing a print.

    Apparently it's extraordinarily overt Christian symbolism and admission that there were active Russian collaborators, ensured that it was hardly ever seen in the USSR - and of course post-soviet Russia has very little interest in films of that era.

    The one time I saw it in London was in a festival of Russian movies shown during the Glasnost era (i.e. probably c.1988) - however it apparently has been shown several times in the UK more recently so at least one subtitled print must exist here.

    As far as I know it has never been released in the west on DVD or video so if you haven't seen it, your best chance is probably to join a film society and endlessly nag them to find a print and screen it.
  • ackstasis16 November 2009
    Warning: Spoilers
    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.
  • Warning: Spoilers
    This greatest movie gives us clue to the depth of our souls in most deadly moments of our lives. My heart is shrinking every time I saw the scene of hanging. I have no words any... You must see this brilliant picture.
  • Warning: Spoilers
    Larisa Shepitko's final completed film is one of the most intense movies that I've ever seen. "Voskhozhdenie" ("The Ascent" in English) looks at a pair of Soviet troops who take refuge in a widow's home during WWII, only to see a German platoon enter and arrest them and the widow (leaving the children).

    I understand that the movie's depiction of martyrdom owes a lot to Christian iconography. I wouldn't notice that. What's important to remember is that the Soviet Union got hit the hardest in World War II. Not only did the country lose over 20 million people fighting the Nazis, but we have here a woman who probably wanted to have nothing to do with the war but she got dragged into it. This probably happened multiple times, and might still be happening.

    I wholeheartedly recommend the movie.
  • Warning: Spoilers
    I saw this film many years ago (along with another of Shepitko's films, Wings) as part of a Soviet film series at a local film archive. But none of Shepitko's films, as far as I can tell, have ever made it to video or DVD in the United States. Ascent is a great film by any standard, with stunning black and white photography, hypnotic direction, and actors so deep into their roles that you have no sense of them merely giving a performance. Although the period details of Russian resistance to (and collaboration with) German occupation are very telling, the story is timeless. Two Russian partisans are captured by the Germans, and the interrogation tests their integrity as well as their courage. I suspect the reason why it has not been released on DVD by the Russians (here comes the spoiler) is that the Jewish intellectual (and not the tough Russian peasant) is the partisan who resists both threats and temptation, goes serenely to his death, and sets an heroic example for the villagers.
  • Warning: Spoilers
    Shepitko's The Ascent portrays the literal and metaphorical journey of two Russian soldiers deep into enemy territory and into the depths of their consciences. Sent to find food for a hungry division of partisan soldiers fighting Germans in Belarus during World War II, Sotnikov and Rybak make their way across a wintry landscape, attempting to evade German squads.

    The film was made in 1977, but is filmed in stark black and white. This format, in coordination with the bleak snow-covered landscape, makes the beginning of the film almost completely two-tone: black soldiers on white snow. The motion of the camera complements this with shots that call attention to the contrast between white and black, an unmistakable symbolism that refers to several dichotomies represented by the two principal characters. Throughout the beginning, Sotnikov is sick, marking him immediately and physically as different from Rybak, who selfishly tells him he never should have come. The differences between the two men only grow when, while fleeing German troops, Sotnikov is shot in the leg, spilling dark blood onto the white snow. It is almost as if all darkness leaves him, then, an idea reinforced as Rybak drags him into the woods, covering him in snow and rendering him completely white.

    The moral purity that distinguishes Sotnikov from Rybak becomes more apparent from this point on, after which the film also largely abandons the black-and-white motif–its symbolic work being done–in favor of shades of gray. These seem to represent the varying degrees of truth and betrayal demonstrated by the new characters who are introduced, from the innocent mother who houses the soldiers to the headman who worked for the Germans for fear of his life: light collides with dark.

    Upon their eventual discovery by German troops, the two partisans face very different interrogations. Unwilling to betray his cause, Sotnikov reveals no information and withstands terrible torture, whereas Rybak proves immediately pliant and even jumps at the opportunity to join the German police in exchange for his life. The illness, wounding, and torture that bring Sotnikov ever closer to death reinforce his inner need to be true to himself and his cause, a need that leads him even to attempt self-sacrifice to save the prisoners who are condemned to be hanged with him, giving him a Jesus-like aura as he is led up a hill to his death. Unlike the pure Sotnikov, Rybak betrays his cause and himself by joining the Germans rather than face the death his ostensible convictions would earn him, earning jeers as a "Judas," from the Belorussian villagers. In the last shot, with a final scream, Rybak realizes that–in the culmination of Shepitko's incredible journey through the visual–he truly is the black to Sotnikov's white, completely incapable of holding true to himself, unable to muster the will to escape the Germans who have fomented his betrayal by either committing suicide or running away through even an open gate. All of this internal struggle, revelation, and symbolism is built slowly and brilliantly up by the director from the mere initial binary of black and white.
  • An impeccable technical quality for a 77 film, especially in light of the adversity and difficulty of shooting in extreme snow, a wonderful context, a divine approach, the performance of partisans from the extinct USSR, in the 2nd war, lyrical, suffered, poetic, beautiful , freezing... Larisa Shepitko died young, left this beautiful work, which she produced while pregnant and generated numerous awards, such as the Golden Bear, but what a movie, a deep debate about the best and worst of human beings in their extremes...
  • I saw it as one of the most powerful Christian films. Because, behind the war film frame, this is its essence. A film about truth and sacrifice, giving to Anatoliy Solonitsyn,Boris Plotnikov and Vladimir Gost.yukhin the opportunity to define basic terms of human kind in proper terms.

    Great close-ups and the snow as echo of decisions and lived truths.

    The splendid scene of the boy wearing Budeonovka , the young. Sergey Kanishchev proposing the fundamental trait of the Christ passion.

    It is one of films who I see often. For the simple - precise remind of content of truth. For the fair remind of the necessity to be, always, yourself. For the definition of Evil . For the portrait of Judas . And for the glance of Boris Sotnikov .

    It is so easy to define it as masterpiece. And, indeed, it is one. But , in special way, it represents more. So, see it !
  • valis194917 July 2009
    THE ASCENT is a very worthwhile addition to recent re-releases from the Soviet Union. Director Larisa Shepitko's 1977 film examines the moral ramifications of allegiance and honor in German occupied Russia during The Second World War. On foot and in a blizzard, two members of a partisan Soviet group leave to locate supplies, and are captured by Nazi soldiers. The focus of the movie is on how each man handles or internalizes his moral alternatives. One chooses dignity and integrity, while the other opts for collaboration with the enemy. However, in the end, he cannot abide by his selfish decision. The film makes much use of slow, wide-angle pans which shift to extreme closeups, and highlight the spiritual quandary within the souls of each man. This is not a great film, but it does effectively portray an intense moral dilemma against the backdrop of a harsh and frigid Soviet wilderness.
  • Warning: Spoilers
    Ascent was an incredibly weak film for me. It tells a good story but is dragged down by horrible pacing. At the end, the experience I got out of the movie was barely worth the time invested into it.

    I'm not trying to say that the message of the movie is boring - it's not. The world is clearly fascinated by the story of Judas. But the film drags on much longer than it has to. The opening scene, while well-shot, brought nothing to the story. It could have just as easily started when the two soldiers stumble into Demchikha's house. The scene where the inspector is interrogating Sotnikov also takes too long. The inspector is steely and unyielding, but that much is established in the first four minutes of his screen time. Later on, Demchikha begs to be spared twice as she is being walked off to the execution grounds. These parts of the story, and others, were unnecessary.

    Meanwhile, there are parts of the story I would expand. When the soldiers stumbled in Demchikha's house, we saw a great deal of the innocence they're fighting for. I wish the movie had spent more time there with Demchikha and her children before they were caught. It's not that I wanted the movie to be over sooner, but I felt it expanded certain points unnecessarily at the expense of others.

    This got so bad, I felt like the main plot was being spoon-fed to me. I understand it's a Judas story. Why did the woman in the final scene stop Rybak to call him Judas? From the moment the two soldiers are locked up, we see it is about Judas. It couldn't have been more obvious if the Germans had paid him 30 pieces of silver.

    All of this takes away from some otherwise fantastic work. The fact that the film is shot in black and white is genius, bringing the viewer back to WWII. The hanging scene was almost perfect, with Sotnikov looking into the little boy's eyes before dying. And the ending scene was iconic. Rybak looks like a fat worm as he tries to stick his head through his belt before giving up. This all makes for a wonderful movie that everyone should see, but only if they bring a book and three bags of popcorn.

    One thing I just did not understand was the inspector. His entire character bugged me. In that hat and coat, he looked more like a newspaper salesman than anyone associated with the military. But the strangest part was how he acted. He is supposed to be the villain and is quite a good one but there are a handful of scenes where he breaks. He seems genuinely sad that these people are about to die. This I understand - he is being humanized. What I don't understand is why he doesn't do anything about it. I kept expecting him to let someone go. Surely he has the authority. At least Demchikha, with three kids. Who would insist they kill her? He seems to want to do something about it. But then he doesn't and just walk away looking very sad.
An error has occured. Please try again.