The Banishment (2007) User Reviews (33)

Better and more complex than "The Return"

[JuguAbraham · 8/10 · 23 December 2007]

Andrei Zvyagintsev's second film "The Banishment," if evaluated closely, could arguably be as interesting as his first film The Return, if not better. Both relate to related concepts "Father" and "Love/Absence of Love." In both films, there are few words spoken.

To evaluate "The Banishment" is like completing a challenging crossword puzzle. You would know this unusual situation if you have seen "The Return." To begin "The Return" was not based on a novel. This one is. That, too, a William Saroyan novel—"The Laughing Matter." Yet the director is not presenting us with Saroyan's novel on the screen. He develops the wife as a woman "more sinn'd against than sinning," while in the novel she is mentally unstable. Understandably, the director decides to drop the Saroyan title. Thus the words "I am going to have a child. It's not yours" provides two utterly distinct scenarios depending on whether the woman who speaks those words to her husband is a saintly person or a mentally unhinged woman. The change in the character of the wife by the director opens a totally new perspective to the Saroyan story—a tool that contemporary filmmakers frequently use, not to wreck literary works, but creatively revive interest in the possibilities a change in the original work provides.

Those viewers familiar with the plethora of Christian symbolism in "The Return" will spot the painting on which the children play jigsaw is one of an angel visiting Mary, mother of Jesus, to reveal that she will give birth even if she is a virgin. This shot is followed by a black kitten walking across the painting. And the forced abortion operation at the behest of the husband begins on Vera, the wife in Zvyagintsev's film. By the end of the film the viewer will realize that the director had left a clue for the viewer—not through conventional character development using long conversations.

"The Banishment" is representative of contemporary cinema provoking viewers to enjoy cinema beyond the story by deciphering symbols strewn around amongst layers of meaning structured within the screenplay.

As usual, the cinema of director Zvyagintsev is full of allusions to the Bible. This is the third famous film that refers to a single abstract chapter in the Bible on love: 1 Corinthians Chapter 13. In "The Banishment" the chapter is read by the neighbors' daughters. In Krzysztof Kieslowski's "Blue", set to the musical score sung towards the end of the film a choral musical piece sings the words "If I have not love, I am nothing" from the same Biblical chapter commenting indirectly on communication breakdown between husband and wife and the slow and painful reconciliation with the husband's lover. Bergman's "Through a glass darkly" is a phrase on taken from the same chapter of the Bible, a film also on lack of communication and love between father and son, husbands and wives.

The banishment alludes to the banishment of Adam from the Garden of Eden represented in the film by the anti-hero's tranquil family house, far from the inferred socio-political turbulence elsewhere. Soon after the wife's proclamation we see her children playing with the jigsaw puzzle depicting an angel appearing to Virgin Mary, mother of Jesus, that she will bear a child. These clues indicate to the viewer that wife was innocent. In the movie, these are but a few of the dozens of symbols and metaphors that extend even to the selection of classical music. As usual, the cinema of director Zvyagintsev is full of allusions to the Bible. The banishment alludes to the banishment of Adam from Eden represented in the film by the anti-hero's tranquil family house, far from the inferred socio-political turbulence elsewhere. A black kitten crosses the jigsaw puzzle and tragedy follows. These clues indicate to the viewer that wife was innocent. In the movie, these are but a few of the dozens of symbols and metaphors that extend even to the selection of classical music Bach's Magnificat or the "Song of Virgin Mary". There is washing of the brother's bullet hit arm, reminiscent of Pilate washing his hands in the Bible.

While the story and structure of "The Return" is easier to comprehend, "The Banishment" is more complex. The first half of the film entices the viewer to reach the wrong conclusions. The Father is correct, the wife is wrong. The second half of the film surprises the viewer as all assumptions of the viewer made from the preceding episodes are turned topsy-turvy. Men are arrogant, egotistical and father children without love. There is no love in the silent train journey of the family while the wife is looking at her husband with love. Like Kieslowski's "Blue" the woman appears stronger than the man—and in an apt epilogue its women (harvesting a field) who are singing a song of hope and regeneration.

A supposed major flaw noted by critics is the lack of character development. In this film, Zvyagintsev develops characters using silent journeys (lack of communication) and misconstruing of reality ("child is not ours"), very close to the storyline of the director's first film. Actually, Zvyagintsev progresses in this second film by extending the relationship of "Father and children" in the first film, to "Father and wife" in the second. In the first film, children do not understand the father; in the second, the father does not understand his wife. When he does it is too late, just as the kids in the first film of the director. This is a film that requires several viewings to savor its many ingredients of photography, music, and screenplay writing. Zvyagintsev is not merely copying directors Tarkovsky, Bergman and Kieslowski—-he is exploring new territories by teasing his viewer to "suspend his/her belief" and constantly re-evaluate what was shown earlier.

Zvyagintsev creates a stark, grave allegory of marital and familial disintegration

[movedout · 7/10 · 28 August 2008]

Andrey Zvyagintsev's "The Banishment" is a stark, grave allegory of marital and familial disintegration. The father, Alexander (Best Actor at Cannes 2007, Konstantin Lavronenko)—a slight, lithe, laconic character—faces an unconscionable choice midway through the film. His wife, Vera (Maria Bonnevie), is a quietly tired mother masking a great deal of uncertainty behind pained eyes and faded beauty. Their young children, Kir and Eva, sense that a storm is brewing. This is Zvyagintsev's despairing poetry on the toxic disconnect between loved ones, surveying the limbo between the way things are and the way it should be.

"I'm pregnant, but it's not yours," Vera says unhurriedly, looking at her husband imploringly, eyes beseeching, as they lounge on the patio of Alexander's hilltop childhood home in the countryside, far away from the bleak greys of the industrial city where they reside. In that moment, Alexander realises the shift from mental to physical infidelity, less mindful to the betrayal he refuses to talk about than he is to his pride taking a dent. For the first time, the angular complexity of Lavronenko's face twists into a wordless rage that reveals his only response to the malaise rising within this marriage.

Alexander meets surreptitiously with his shady brother Mark (Aleksandr Baluyev), a criminal sort that needed stitching up and a bullet removed from his arm in the dead of the night just days before. Mark informs Alexander of a gun he left up in a dresser at their father's home. The moral landscape opens up here with two paths—to forgive or to kill. Both choices demand a hefty price, but remain acceptable as long as one is able to reconcile one's self with it.

Zvyagintsev creates a dreary mood piece, sustained with tension and a deeply burdening excavation of secrets and silence. There's an exploration of miscommunication here, not lies. The unspoken becomes just as virulent as falsities; the emotional estrangement between people becomes a source of dehumanising decay. The story of family is timeless in its essence, but intermittent, it's intrinsic morality however, is everything. Once again, the past has a way of rearing itself into the future. Just as Zvyagintsev saw profundity in the role of the Father in his mesmerising debut, "The Return", he sees the same here in the dynamics between parents and of spouses. The themes remain similar, but the religiosity of his enterprise is clunkier and more obtrusive.

While the acknowledged influence is Andrei Tarkovsky—nature and pastoral simplicity as it relates to the inner self and the interplay of religious iconography—the resonance of the camera is plainly Zvyagintsev's. The director, once again working with the cinematographer Mikhail Krichman, seems incapable of framing an ugly image: the open spaces of the golden countryside becomes stupefying and the creaky house itself hinges on a chasm, a solitary wooden bridge is the sole connection to a world outside the confines of family. As the narrative bends and folds, so does Zvyagintsev's virtuosity with visual chicanery—images and shots blend into one another, revealing the webs of space and time.

For all its technical poise, Zvyagintsev's story lacks the emotional veracity of his debut. From each shot, right down to its script, everything is so precisely composed that the film becomes antiseptic beneath the tragedy by justifying its theoretical banality with intense symbolism and inorganic actions. Characters have weight but no reality—they seem becalmed, even unaffected—they are ideas acted upon, props for a rambling parable and dangerously on the verge of evoking ennui. But in spite of its inherently languorous sermon, Zvyagintsev tackles the film with the cinematic prose of epic literature by enveloping the film with an aura of solemnity and disquiet.

A Story too Shrouded....

[tim-764-291856 · 7/10 · 17 September 2012]

There is no doubt that the measured beauty, both savage and majestic, is superbly and evotically captured by the cinematography of Mikhail Krichman, from start, to finish, both nodding to and taking hats off to, undoubtedly, Tarkovsky.

However, what started out as the short story 'Laughing Matter' by American writer William Saroyan, unfortunately gets swamped by the visual bravado and a two and a half hour run-time. It gets to being on the cusp of something big, or something profound that might explain what's going on - but that may be the trick that The Return director Andrey Zvyagintsev wants.

With its gorgeously slow tracking shots and weaving camera angles, that follow this troubled family who now are in hiding in one those idyllic Russian country houses on a windswept plain and with their own walnut grove, there lies an intensity that is palpable, brewing away quietly. This is helped by a sparse score, notably a slightly electronically treated 'monk' sounding choral piece that rises like a sullen mist.

Lead actor, the Father of the family, Konstantin Lavronenko, picked up Best Actor at Cannes. His wife, Eva, announces one day that she is pregnant and through studies in male supposition and pride, family bonds and shady past dealing contacts are tried - and tested. What unravels, slowly, are the various connotations resulting from these and their actions, on both them and their existing children.

My four stars are really for the sense of unfulfillment - it's neither oblique and enigmatic enough that a Tarkovsky would be but it's obvious there's a story bursting to get out and I for one would be rather happier if it weren't shrouded in quite so much masked mystery - however beautiful that mask might be. There is little dialogue, very little violence and I don't recall any strong swearing, but through some strong visuals, possibly of body injury, it's a certificate 12.

For followers of Russian cinema, old and new, then The Banishment is certainly worth watching and for those like me who enjoyed Zvyagintsev's The Return, it's almost a must. The critics were largely underwhelmed and I so wish I could say that this is a masterpiece, but sadly, it's not quite.

Emotionally devastating - must-see cinema

[paulmartin-2 · 9/10 · 27 October 2008]

I have only just learnt that Zvyagintev's The Return was his feature film debut. It really impressed me with it's sparse and elusive narrative, filled with mystery and ambiguity. It is visually spectacular, with a strong Eastern European aesthetic that one can't look away from. The Banishment is no less a film.

This is a much more ambitious effort than Zvyagintev's debut. Again he has crafted a story that is highly enigmatic. It stars Konstantin Lavronenko, who played the role of the absent father returned in The Return. Alex is a man with a shady past and his brother Mark (Aleksandr Baluyev) is of the same ilk. When Alex's wife, Vera (Maria Bonnevie), reveals she is pregnant and that he is not the father, a sequence of events unfolds that will have you on the edge of your seat. "If you want to kill, kill. If you want to forgive, forgive", says Mark.

The tension is palpable, magnified by the sparse dialogue. In one sense, words are not needed as the body language says it all. Yet in another, the inability of the protagonists to bring out into the open what needs to be said leads to unforeseen consequences. This is both thematically similar to Nuri Bilge Ceylan's similarly excellent Three Monkeys and stylistically they also share much in common. As in Ceylan's films, Zvyagintev shows great confidence in telling a story, taking his time to create a palpable ambiance. At 157 minutes, the film is quite long, but always engaging.

The cinematography is stunning throughout, with excellent use of the widescreen. There is one tracking shot in particular that left me breathless as the camera seemingly floated through space. I can recall only twice where the camera movement impressed me so: the caravan sequence in Noise and the various tracking shots in Soy Cuba. The use of darkness, light and shade are used to great effect. The music is haunting, reminding me of the Gothic sounds of the music of Enigma. It renders the film with a sense of tragedy of biblical proportions.

Zvyagintev is a magnificent talent that just can't be ignored. If you see only one Russian film this year, make it The Banishment.

In the finest tradition of Tarkovsky

[death-hilarious · 9/10 · 17 September 2007]

Much unhappiness has come into the world because of bewilderment and things left unsaid. -- Fyodor Dostoevsky

This second feature film from Russian director Andrei Zvyagintsev had a lot to live up to considering how great his 2003 debut, The Return, was. I was really a bit skeptical going in because the advanced reviews had been mixed, and I really didn't know how a director who had made such brilliant use of the Russian landscape as almost a perpetually menacing character in its own right, would handle what sounded like a very indoor domestic drama. Boy was I wrong to doubt. Zvyagintsev and cinematographer Mikhail Krichman find an abundance of interesting things to shoot, from drab constantly overcast soviet-era industrial cities to old decaying farmsteads. I love the way these two frame and light almost every shot and the slow stalking way the camera pans and moves is almost deliberately predatory. I'd probably be mesmerized if these two shot nothing but landscapes and people for two hours with no plot whatsoever, which, to be fair, is what the movie feels like at times, considering how minimal and terse the typically Russian script is. The story revolves around a man (played by Konstantin Lavronenko who also starred in the Return), who moves his wife and two young children from the city to his father's old farm in the country where he expects better prospects for work. While in the country his wife reveals something that threatens to tear the family apart. Like the Return, the Banishment is about the tragic consequences of the failure of individuals to make emotional contact, communicate, and ultimately understand each other. Unfortunately the final denouement, which unravels through a few too many twists for a story this simple and sparse, is really unsatisfying because it strips all the characters of any last shred of sympathy, leaving the audience almost indifferent towards them. Still, this was so brilliantly photographed and paced that I couldn't help but enjoy every shot.

Russian director Andrei Zvyagintsev proves that he is not a one hit wonder !!!!

[Film_critic_Lalit_Rao · 6/10 · 11 June 2010]

Those who have seen Russian director Andrei Zvyagintsev's first film "The Return" will have no trouble in realizing that his second film "Izgnanie" /"The Banishment" is equally impressive.However,his second film is little less effective despite having many themes in common with his first film.It can be surmised that it was due to intriguing focus on adults instead of children.This is exactly the reason why many a times viewers might get the impression that children are used merely as unavailing props.Astute viewers will also notice that many references to Tarkovsky are quite natural and self explanatory as Andrei Zvyagintsev is an honorable heir of that famous Russian school of cinema which prides itself in observing minute things in greater detail.It is true that a film maker must not give all answers to viewers but highhandedness of Andrei Zvyagintsev's direction failed to engage viewers.This is one reason why so many essential questions remained unanswered throughout the film.But this would surely not deprive any sagacious viewers to enjoy this extremely meaningful film with excellent focus on art direction especially in the manner interiors have been created.

Love is God, but is God really love

[satishnaidu2000003 · 9/10 · 23 December 2007]

There is a vast difference between being emotionally inert and being emotionally hollow. As much as Vozvrashcheniye (The Return, 2003) was intense, Andrei Zvyagintsev sophomore feature Izgnanie (The Banishment) is hollow. An emotional hollowness that engulfs us, holding us captive along with these tragic characters. I say captive because I so desperately wanted them to make things up, but our nature and the choices it sometimes leads us to make often renders the tragedy inevitable. There is a great deal of silence in the film; most of these moments between the husband Alexander (Konstantin Lavronenko) and the wife Vera (Maria Bonnevie). As long as a relationship is having constant arguments of any kind, I believe, it is still far from the rocky paths. But once silence creeps in it usually will signal the point of no return. Izgnanie starts off with a great shot of a car running along a picturesque landscape of the Russian country. Mark (Aleksandr Baluyev) drives to his brother Alexander's home in the middle of the night where he has his upper-arm suffering from a gun shot wound fixed, and the bullet taken out. The very next day, Alex and his family, relocate to their countryside home amidst the breathtaking serenity of the scenery. Yet, these people are banished from country (Garden of Eden) for there's no peace in their lives. Silence yes, and a hell of a lot of it. But peace none at all. The urban world and its rush might conceal that silence, but the country has its own to offer. Vera reveals to Alex that she's pregnant, and the child is not his. Perhaps the external silence is too much for her to bear. Alexander is a great character and it is a great performance from Lavronenko. A classic case who has been influenced during his growing days and now is himself influential. Perhaps we all are, in varying degrees. In a lesser film he would have been a stoic binary individual, one of those standard-etched characters that respond in only two ways. But what Alex achieves here is to capture an individual who has added layers and layers to conceal himself, to conceal his vulnerability. As against popular conception, the layer addition is somewhat of an involuntary task. The wife has so desperately tried to penetrate those layers and to truly know her husband all her married life. And now the vacuum is too much for her to bear. Not because she is feeling lonely, but she can foresee where her son is being led to. Where her children are being led to. This is an extremely complex portrayal of parenting. Most films that intend to showcase negative parenting are loud and usually exaggerate the effects compressing them into a rather small time frame. This understands what happens and how the nature of a parent, good or bad, is gradually impressed upon the child. An impression that is infinitely complex than being just plain good or bad. Taare Zameen Par is juvenile in its portrayal of the parent; just as no boy is bad I bet there're few parents who are bad. A father is a child's hero, always. I can never overestimate the profound influence my father's persona has had on me. Vera discloses the secret herself in hope of a final attempt at breaking that shell. But it is impenetrable, that shell. It is transparent, but it is impenetrable. Then there's the other silence. The one that exist between the two brothers – Mark and Alexander. It is the silence that prospers between two individuals who're essentially one, the kind who understand the other's every little action every little word and every little moment. These are two individuals who've been together and stayed together every step of the rocky road. And when one experiences a tragedy, it is the other that suffers. It is a great study, the bond between the brothers. As much as I felt captive within the vacuum of the marriage, I would want to be company to these two brothers as they grew up. I would want to know if they share the same secret of brotherly love-respect-hate. Outside of Tarkovsky's cinema, I have never experienced such a great blend of serenity and silence. Zvyagintsev is a master, who pulls of every trick of his with mathematical precision. He's ably accompanied by the cinematography of Mikhail Krichman, his comrade from his debut film, and they create a profound location out of the otherwise ordinary countryside. This is the Garden of Eden, and with a budget that I suspect is as low as the first one (it was under $500,000). But what the results they achieve is worth billions, the landscape here is a character on its own. The camera is essentially still, and even during the occasional instances when it moves, the results are essentially still. This is an extremely beautiful film to look at, and that it is about such painful characters inhabiting a tragic family is all the more ironic. The secret of the breathtaking prowess of the film's effectiveness, and its screenplay is that it doesn't go for plot markers. It takes its time, and makes us privy to the drama as it unfolds, almost in real time. Love is God, it is said. And God is love. And yet, these people who are incapable of overcoming their shortcomings to achieve love for one another is horrifying, to a certain degree. For if God is love, why doesn't he himself overcome his shortcomings and help these people out of their vacuum. One of the great films of this year.

Remained a bit too enigmatic

[rlaine · 7/10 · 23 August 2010]

First off I'm gonna say there are a few reviews without a tag which do spoil a bit. The movie has a couple of scenes which make the plot, and it's far better viewing if you don't know about them. I'm not gonna go into details, but I'm still putting the spoiler tag on.

This movie had pretty much everything for me to like it. It's a Russian film, I catch one every time I can. It was nominated in Cannes, it's slow paced, it's got great cinematography and it's a movie that requires you're brain to be turned on, rather than off. Even if slow, you really need to be awake for the whole duration.

Still it didn't turn out quite as good as I hoped. I had no problem with the duration, it never felt too slow or dragging. Very little actually happens plot wise. The tension and atmosphere are hand felt. Acting top notch, lot's of symbolic references. Scenery and images are amazing. There are a couple of scenes where the camera work really goes into Tarkovsky territory.

The story is intriguing and gripping, but never really hits it. It's a mystery and a lot of stuff remain unsaid on screen and off screen. May require repeated viewing, but I felt the story left a bit too much in the shadows. I have nothing against clues and symbolism, but here the story is just too enigmatic. You also start to question the characters actions after a while. If in a horror movie you say "why is she going there alone", in this movie you say "why don't they just talk".

Might also be cultural differences, but I had a bit of trouble connecting to anyone in this movie and if you have to question every characters actions, the viewing experience becomes a bit heavy after a while. You're never really sure why they do what they are doing.

Speaking of cultural differences, I try to catch a Russian movie every time I can, because it's amazingly difficult to find a subtitled Russian movie in Finland. I was a bit disappointed how universal this movie was. It could've happened anywhere and reading from IMDb, the shooting locations were not in Russia. Without the dialogs I would've never guessed it's a Russian movie, in my book that's not a good thing for a movie.

Still definitely worth viewing, I'm gonna try and catch the directors earlier movie and will keep an eye on him in the future.

A long haunting puzzle that's never really put together

[Chris Knipp · 8/10 · 27 February 2008]

Not as strong as Zvyagintsev's haunting 2003 debut 'The Return'/'Vozvrashcheniye' (grand prize at Venice--I reviewed it when it was shown theatrically in the US the following year), this adaptation of William Saroyan's 1953 novella, "The Laughing Matter," is recognizable for its intense, slow-paced style and beautiful cinematography (by Mikhail Krichman). 'Izgnanie' (the Russian title) takes us out to a remote country house where there are thin roads, grassy fields over gentle hills, herds of sheep -- and old friends, because this is the childhood home of the protagonist Alex (Konstantin Lavronenko), who's brought his family out there for summer vacation. But before that (and a signal of a certain disjointedness of the whole film) we observe Mark (Alexander Baluev), Alex's obviously gangsterish brother, getting him to remove a bullet from his arm. this is also the first of a series of failures to seek adequate medical treatment. Now we move to Alex with his wife Vera (Maria Bonnevie) taking their young son Kir (Maxim Shibaev) and younger daughter Eva (Katya Kulkina) out to the country by car.

Zvagintsev certainly takes his time with every action of the film. It's as if he thought he was writing a 500-page novel rather than making a movie. The effect is not so much a sense of completeness as a kind of hypnotic trance. Everything is marked by the fine clear light, the frequent use of long shots, and the pale blue filters that give everything a distinctive look. Some of the long landscape shots are absolutely stunning, and the interior light and the way shadows gently caress the faces are almost too good to be true.

When another family comes into the picture and they all spend a day outdoors, the sense of familiarity, summer listlessness, and vague unease made me think of a play by William Inge or Tennessee Williams. That may seem odd for a Russian movie, but the names are only partly Russian, the location is deliberately indeterminate, and Saroyan's source story is set in a long-ago California, not in Russia. Zvyagintsev doesn't seem to work in the real world but in some kind of super-real nether-land. Whether it is unforgettable or simply off-putting seems to vary. In 'The Return' it as the former; here it is more the latter.

Vera drops a bombshell, when she announces she's pregnant and that the child isn't his. The tragedy that slowly but inexorably follows arises from a derangement in the wife and a misunderstanding by the husband. To deal with the problem Alex wants the children out of the way and he is happy to have them stay at the friends' house, where they're putting together a large jigsaw puzzle of Leonardo da Vinci's painting, 'The Annunciation'. I'm indebted to Jay Weissberg's review in 'Variety' for this identification; Weissberg adds, "That... isn't the only piece of heavy-handed religious imagery on offer. There's Alex washing his brother's blood off his hands, Eva/Eve offered an apple, and a Bible recitation from 1 Corinthians about love ("It does not insist on its own way"), handily set apart by a bookmark depicting Masaccio's 'The Expulsion From the Garden of Eden.' OK, we get it, but that doesn't mean the parallels offer a doorway into personalities who offer little emotional residue on their own." And he is right: Zvyagintsev's fascination with Italian painting, and here also with the Bible, doesn't change the fact that the characters nonetheless remain, this time, troublingly opaque. Mark is an adviser and stimulus to action for Alex. Robert (Dmitry Ulianov) is a third brother who enters the picture later. I will not go into the details because the chief interest of the film is its slow revelations.

And yet the revelations don't quite convince, because for one thing they do not fully explain. The wife's behavior remains unaccountable. And a long flashback in the latter part of the film seems to come too late, and to explain too much, yet without explaining enough. None of this is the fault of the actors, who are fine, including the children.

Zvyagintsev's second film, then, is a disappointment and a puzzlement. I began to think after a while that the whole thing would be much more effective if it were done in a very simple style, with simply workmanlike photography, in a film trimmed of all externals, down to the bone, something noirish like Robert Siodmak's 'The Killers' or Kubrick's 'The Killing.' We are left to figure things out anyway, so why all the flourishes? Yet Zvyagintsev's style is nonetheless beautiful, and one only hopes he finds material that works better for him next time. I was thrilled with 'The Return' and wrote of it in my IMDb Comment: "This stunning debut features exceptional performances by the talented young actors, brilliant storytelling in a fable-like tale that's as resonant as it is specific, and exquisite cinematography not quite like any one's ever seen before." The excitement I felt about the first film is why the new one feels like such a let-down.

Seen as part of the Film Society of Lincoln Center series Film Comment Selects 2008 (February 25) at the Walter Reade Theater, NYC.

__________________

From the outside, characters are clearly sophisticated enough and it is curious why connection never gets there.

[crey014 · 6/10 · 24 July 2008]

A respectable family drama with its style and lethargic editing its main drawback, "Izgnanie" will also definitely test the patient, even Andrei Zvyagintsev's most loyal of fans. Insecurity over the plot is palpable as film overextends its welcome with pondering and introspective filming that doesn't quite translate well on screen. Plot and cinematography, especially in the countryside, offer some solace to art house fans, however audience will wonder why it took too long to make the point.

Film follows a middle class family as they go to the pastoral countryside, presumably where the paternal character, Alex (Konstantin Lavronenko) grew up. Plot only advances approximately an hour in the picture as a reveal is introduced. Character and story development is sporadic, definitely welcome, as it reminds audience that they aren't watching paint dry. The final act in the film, a flashback, carries the meatier part of the movie as it emphasizes the tragedy that happens earlier. Adultery, abortion and family secrets are aplenty, however seen and are better executed before.

Best actor nod for Konstantin Lavronenko at Cannes 2007 is somewhat deserving. It is indeed a subtle performance, however doesn't hold a candle to other actors vying for the same gong.

With an abundance of establishing shots and transport moving in and out of frame, the film could have easily eliminated 30 minutes of its 2 and a half-hour running time. Anna Mass, the editor, has puzzled together a film that wallows in atmosphere and creates images that are borderline pseudo-cathartic. Such scenes include a 3-minute trailing shot of water flowing from a water source that stopped delivering hydration before. May have functioned as time change and indication of liminal moment, but overly indulgent nonetheless, as it feels that it's delivered as art for art's sake.

Adapted from a novel by William Saroyan, it is clear that translation is also a problem. With the production of the film being abject to the characters, audience is clearly not allowed into these personalities, only as observers. This abjectivity produces lack of engagement that a plot like this could easily flourish on. From the outside, characters are clearly sophisticated enough and it is curious why connection never gets there.

English title is marketed as "The Banishment" as it may signify a plethora of themes and undertones in the movie. It straight up refers to the family's eviction from their 'idealised' Eden in a midtown neighborhood (although clearly far from it as it is depicted as violent and drab), but also refers to the individual isolation of the characters from one another. They are all devoid of communication or any sort of outward emotional connection, except for hate, contempt and the chains of nuclear family. Film becomes a burning effigy to families that are only bonded because they have to.

What could have been a beautifully insightful movie on the danger of disregard of family bonds, film overachieves in being meditative to a fault: dragging its run time to way beyond its limits, diluting its intended purpose. The patient will find satisfaction but will still notice the film's over the top brooding by overstuffing it with non-consequential establishing shots, pretending to be worth more than it is.

a terrible darkness here but the performances are as magical as the cinematography

[christopher-underwood · 9/10 · 10 February 2021]

Having recently watched and been most impressed with director, Andrey Zvyagintsev's first film The Return and having also liked his later films thought I would take a look at this, his second outing. It is a terrible tale but, oh so well told. From the opening shot of a solitary tree in a golden landscape to the very end this is wonderfully filmed with frame after frame a joy to behold. The story itself is another matter and the director's easy way with children means that even if the adults avoid saying very much, the children are less inhibited and provide a delightful backdrop. Although the innocence of the young children does contrast and further emphasise the horrors that the adults do, to each other, mostly mentally and off frame something pretty terrible too that we are not privy to. There is a terrible darkness here but the performances are as magical as the cinematography and the whole is a great pleasure to watch. The town and city sequences are, apparently, shot in France and Belgium whilst the unique countryside scenes are filmed in Moldova, which I discover is a small former soviet country between Ukraine and Romania. Brilliant film - the director talks of L'Aventura and this just could be considered a Russian Antonioni - even if it wasn't filmed there.

Intriguing but slow

[tao902 · 6/10 · 24 July 2015]

A city family take a holiday in the country, staying at a remote house in the Russian countryside for a. Alex's wife, Vera, reveals to him that she is pregnant by another man. He struggles to decide how he should respond and what should be done, eventually deciding that an abortion should be arranged. His wife kills herself with an overdose immediately after the abortion. However, Alex then finds out that he was in fact the father and that in fact his wife had never felt close enough to him to be able to regard him as a partner.

An intriguing story but slow, in the style of Tarkovsky, maybe too long.

Beautiful cinematography; vapid story

[satxfan · 28 August 2018]

I have seen four other films by Andrei Zvyagintsev - and I liked all of them (especially "Elena.") This film, though --- "The Banishment" -- is not very good. The cinematography is absolutely gorgeous and I would have been happy to watch a documentary on the cinematographer's technique and simply look at shots from this film. The director takes advantage of every landscape, showing it in all its glory. The interior scenes are lit and shot like beautiful Flemish paintings. Unfortunately, the story is not well-thought-out and the film is loaded with continuity errors. The story should have had dramatic impact, but it's so poorly written that each event feels contrived and rings false. Very disappointing.

a feminist field-day

[karlericsson · 1/10 · 25 June 2018]

Oh, see the poor woman so depressed over, well, nothing really. The man, so confused by the swinery that we call society, does not understand. But he is to blame, yes sir. And the confusion lives on and there can be no understanding because that means that the woman must give up her feminist preoccupation and try to imagine the slavery of her man and who wants to do that? Instead she wallops in her own confusion and finds a way to blame the man for her suicide that she cannot avoid in her fantastic preoccupation with herself. A feminist field-day indeed - total and utmost confusion.

I have unlocked the enigma of the narrative, mid-review no less...

[GummoRabbit · 10/10 · 2 January 2018]

The two and a half hour run time didn't seem like much, given how absolutely captivated I was by the breathtaking images in this film. Many of the shots were so beautiful, and more importantly, meaningful, that they reminded me of some of the great oil paintings I've had the pleasure of observing as an art connoisseur. The scene of the children asleep on the train in their parents clutch portrayed a powerful sense of innocence and security, foreshadowing what feelings would soon be put to the test.. Or the shot of Vera in a virgin-blue colored dress, sitting in contemplation on her bed. The usage of color gives rise to a new definition of "pastoral": of the quality of a pastel. These being just two of many examples of how such stunning imagery works in the film's favor and remaining entirely relevant.

Yes, the beauty of the film was even enough to keep me viewing, even when I started to lose my comprehension and understanding of what was going on in the final thirty minutes of the actual plot. When this occurred, I was left wondering if I was really so short sighted or if the director made something that was simply "complicated" and required a second viewing. Upon research and reflection, it appears there is nothing at all complicated about the story. If anything, the confusion was a result of how shrouded in mystery the wife's actions were. This, along with the sneakily added flashback scene at the end. It took a while to even realize I was watching a flashback and it was almost intentionally tricky to follow. This was frustrating as I had invested two hours of my time into the movie only to be thrown into a mild state of confusion at the last minute.

But even if you agree to label the flashback criticism as my own inept comprehension, let me come back again to the real source of frustration: The wife's actions. I simply cannot fathom how anyone in their right mind (haha, I just realized mid sentence that maybe she WASN'T in her right mind). And, oh my god... I don't think the women in the adapted novel this was based off of was in her right mind either! Actually, of course she wasn't in her right mind! She killed herself and her baby for Pete's sake! This explains everything!

*Please forgive my real time realizations mid-review, perhaps this will serve as more enjoyable or enlightening for any readers. I write these in part to enhance my own understanding.*

When I first became aware Alex was in fact the biological father, I was in shock, and almost disgusted with frustration over how Vera told him that "it wasn't his." "How stupid could she be?" I thought? Why would she NOT deny Alex's misguided thought that she was adulterous? Who in their right mind would do such a thing?! And that's the AHA! moment! She WASN'T in her right mind at all! And that, my peers of the internet, solves the enigma that is frustrating even the most astute of reviewers. It is so simple actually...As simple as a shot of water coursing through dried-up Earth.

And boy am I glad...because when I first saw this movie I was pouring over reviews trying to find reason and accountability for Vera. It took my own serious reflection with THIS written review to realize it. And...maybe I'm wrong? Maybe my realization is just as inept as my first-watch comprehension ability? But for me, my interpretation makes sense...With a reason discovered for Vera's actions, the movie's narrative becomes as beautiful as its cinematography... I recall one of my favorite movies ever, Tarkovsky's Zerkalo, to be in a similar vein: Demanding from it's viewer.

Another interpretation,another tradition

[shusei · 9/10 · 2 January 2008]

In "The Return" we saw a citation from renaissance painting by Andrea Mantenia,"The Lamentation over the Dead Christ", which had been cited also by Tarkovsky in "Soryalis". Then we saw also black and white photography,resembling in texture to that in "The Mirror(Zerkolo)",and tracking back into the forest from open space with the water("The Mirror" and "Sacrifice"). All these citations or reminiscences naturally reminded us of Tarkovsky's cinematographic tradition. So it's not strange that Zvyagintsev was then mentioned as his successor.

But in "Izgnanie" we can see also reminiscences of another,religious and one of the greatest director;Robert Bresson. Children with a little donkey from "Au hasard, Balthazar",the use of windows and doors as symbols of human isolation,framing of shots which make us feel not too close,not too distant form characters... As far as I remember, Bresson wrote about "ironed"shots as his ideal material for editing.For him,and for Zvyagintsev,cinema is not an instrument to "move" viewers' soul,but only a key, through which every viewer's mind must find the way to the higher Order. I would say that Bresson made religious novella in laconic prose, but Zvyagintsev makes religious fable with poetic language.

In this time too, we see reminiscences of Tarkovsky(the composition and camera movement of the first shot,for example),but here an another tradition,which the director follows, is clearly shown.

Truly Atrocious - Minus zero votes

[robert-642 · 2 July 2011]

I watched this film on the basis of having enjoyed The Return. How wrong can one be. It would be generous to say that it makes the films of Bruno Dumont seem like action films! You can tell when a film is a deceit by the opening shots. Long takes of roads and trees are nothing but a waste of film and the viewers time. A walnut tree does not a film make. Creating atmosphere is one thing but suffocating the viewer is another. And so the rest of the film goes on in the same way: ennui seems more debilitating than euthanasia and that is what this film engenders.

Tell me: how many children have you seen who, going to a new home, albeit dilapidated, show no excitement? Are we saying that Russian children don't run around exploring every nook and cranny with yelps of delight? And so having flicked through chapter after chapter to see if their was any movement - a rabbit skipping across the grass would have been fine - I decided to call it a day and put on a DVD of Tom & Jerry.

Good films I enjoy. Pretension I detest.

• Zero

Is this a man of virtue? Second part

[frankde-jong · 7/10 · 20 February 2022]

The second film from Zvyagintsev. The theme is very similar to his debut "The return" (2003). The story is a family drama. There are hints that the man has criminal connections. The question arises if the man can be trusted as a family man?

In "The return" his sons have to answer this question, in "The banishment" it is his wife. The two sons come to different answers. His wife is swaying back and forth between different answers. That gives her a dual personality and makes "The banishment" less convincing than "The return".

Agonising but thoroughly magnetic character observation, as those therein traipse through unremitting psychological territory resulting in compelling viewing.

[johnnyboyz · 8/10 · 21 April 2011]

Andrei Zvyagintsev's gripping drama The Banishment plays out like Eastern Promises meets Carlos Reygadas' 2007 feature Silent Light; a combination of rather embittered Russian criminals operating and uncovering certain revelations around innocents whom later become caught up in the crossfire, with this weighty, steady visual aesthetic of rural land captured by way of long takes and eerie, heavenly music juxtaposing the on screen non-paradise we witness. Zvyagintsev's film is a minor-masterpiece, a film combining the essence of each of the above films with various cues from that of something like Coppola's Godfather films; the studious deconstruction of a family unit, not all of them necessarily criminally minded, slowly; painfully; deathfully falling apart at the seams as those of varying genders, ages and backgrounds fall away from one another because of a troupé of men's actions. It is a rigorously immersive film, a fine effort from a man firing on mostly all the cylinders he decides to shoot from; the end product formulating into a morbidly fascinating procession of drama and character.

The film will begin with a car being driven by a wounded man through rural fields split by the tarmac road his car occupies, the trees and birdsong unpleasantly disturbed by the roar of the car as it hares by. After another instance of countryside peace being disturbed, an unperturbed cut will see the car enter a more urbanised locale full of bricked up walls and factory chimneys churning out reams of smoke. The driver is a certain Mark (Baluev), a criminally orientated brother to that of Alex (Lavronenko) who lives in the city; the charging of his car past the calm, peaceful rural world during the opening shots a precursor to the sorts of later shattering of the tranquillity he and the family with whom he shares ties to. The aforementioned jolting cut between peace and countryside to city life additionally highlights a sudden change in surroundings, an example of shifting surroundings for the worse which will additionally go on to encapsulate the framework of the film and the general well-being of a family congregation. Mark is injured, but trusty brother Alex patches him up in the dead of night - his dealing with a bloody, scuzzy; grotty situation highlighting skill of a physical nature in his ability to deal with such a scenario of such a delicate, precise nature; before the film places him into a similar predicament, only of immense psychological and spiritual sorts.

With Alex lives his wife Vera (Bonnevie), whom puts up with people of Mark's ilk arriving at her home whilst she sleeps at ungodly hours; when Alex goes to lie next to her, the film providing us with the first of many eerie shots that peer straight down at the couple lying in bed facing upwards at us: very little in the way of contact nor communication and grossly varying positions as they lie situated there, as if not of a similar ilk. Following on from the opening, Alex; Vera and their son Kir with their daughter Eva journey by way of localised train network and by foot through the forests and fields to a farm house. The journey by train is, again, muted; the unit of four sharing varying poses and stances as they sit in the train's compartment avoiding eye contact; the insinuation is disenchantment or a unit not hooked up to one another.

The house they arrive at is one Alex appears highly attuned to, later reveals are that he spent time there as a boy with brother Mark; the faces of elderly and long since deceased family members peering through the exterior glass window of their photographic frames as their image hang there, looming over proceedings as they watch on from the walls. The house, of which is seemingly only accessible from the front by way of a narrow wooden bridge over a kind of moat thus inflecting it being cut off from a distinct 'other side', is a peaceful haven set isolated from civilisation amidst the scorched fields and constant sun. The family are not infallible, uncomfortable scenes such as the one that sees Vera argue with her young daughter unravel, whilst the visiting to Alex's family by neighbouring relative Viktor (Sergeev) and his family demonstrate a seemingly perfect, working unit of this nature in full flow as the distinction between his and Alex's appear even greater.

The bombshell which ruptures this existing arrives in the form of the announcement of Vera's pregnancy, a pregnancy which Alex is informed wasn't instigated by him. What follows is a slow burning sensation of dread and affliction, perpetrated out of human nature's ill-advised methods in dealing with such situations; a late night seeing off of Vikto and co. whom were visiting seeing Alex occupy a part of the porch to the left side of the screen as a distinct wooden foreground beam splits the frame down the middle, distinctly placing Vera on the other side; the film seeing it now necessary to place a physical object so as to highlight the 'split' from one another the two characters share. Zvyagintsev's film is a fine effort, instilled with an agonising and morbidly captivating air about it as we witness these people and their lives disintegrate out of a man too of-his-ilk to be making decisions whilst influencing another man whom ought to be strong enough to see sense. The contemporary cinematic antithesis to Bekmambetov's Americanised Night Watch, or indeed Bondarchuk's Hollywood war movie simulacrum 9th Company, The Banishment banishes most doubts over the Russian cinema industry's strengths and motifs.

The Banishment grants an expulsion of familial melodrama before ensuing tragedy.

[TheMovieDiorama · 7/10 · 22 January 2020]

Estrangement. The antipathy that can manifest in the strongest of bonds. Emotively ruptured by natural progression or artificial intervention. Spouses who reside with each other for a long period of time can always notice changes. Behavioural alterations that enable self-questioning and doubt to override the mind. Is this man today, the man I fell in love with years ago? Has time forced us to become "strangers"? Zvyagintsev exhibits his inner Tarkovsky, paying homage to his legendary style of directing, to convey paranoia and guilt residing within a withering relationship. Alex, a father of two, is forced to confront his wife Vera who is pregnant with another man's baby.

Having temporarily moved his family to his childhood home in rural Russia, the tranquility of the countryside landscape is shattered when the traumatic news is broken to him. Lost of trust. Paranoia. Depression. Heightened states swarmed Alex's mind, searching for the appropriate way to respond. Confiding in his recently injured brother, whom embraces criminal affiliations, to seek the prime reaction. Through Lavronenko's exceptionally disorientated performance, a distant sense of melancholia shrouded the glistening hills. Vera, purposefully neutral in direction due to Bonnevie's intelligent stance, patiently waiting for Alex's response. A conversation? Therapy? Domestic violence? Murder?

Regardless, Zvyagintsev's intention wasn't to produce a twisted drama. It was to depict the disintegration of a relationship. The inability to communicate, and how a consequence of that incapacity is guilt. Vera never looked guilty for her actions, subtly smiling after confessing. Then tragedy strikes. The implication of culpability is reversed, with Alex now symbolising its manifestation. Testing the strength of masculinity amidst the peril of emotional vulnerability. Zvyagintsev seamlessly transfers this emotion from both individuals and illustrates a difference in betrayal.

It's yet another depiction of familial woes that exhumes a bleak aura of soul-destroying depression. However, unlike his previous film, Zvyagintsev inflicts ambiguity and an unsteady structure upon its story. The long, pandering shots that linger after characters exit the scene exemplifies the homage to Tarkovsky, an obvious inspiration for Zvyagintsev. Its pace is methodically slow, requiring an extraordinary amount of patience throughout its near three-hour runtime. Scenes involving the couple's children frolicking in the surrounding grassland become unnecessarily overstretched, adding little to no substance to the character interactions. This becomes more apparent when Kir and Eva are discarded for the last hour, offering no alternate insight to the tragedy that occurs. The climactic flashback, so seamlessly transitioned from present to past that I did not notice immediately, was clumsily embedded to provide answers that Zvyagintsev's ambiguity was already alluding to. Unfortunately juxtaposing the intellectual approach that preceded it. Zvyagintsev does however intelligently reverse the introductory shots throughout the city and utilise them for the ending sequences, personifying the indication of closure from this circle of torment. And he does embed a vast amount of spectacular shots from Krichman's cinematography. So many, that we'd be here all day analysing each one!

The beauty of The Banishment is with its meticulously deliberate pace. Allowing the onscreen estrangement to percolate, trickling its sorrow through the oblique Russian architecture. Yet its also the feature's curse, with Zvyagintsev prolonging a story that would've benefited from a stronger structure. Regardless, The Banishment is a reminder. It reminds us that we as humans need to talk. Otherwise, we lose everything.

Profound movie about relationships and destiny: 10 stars at "illustris Star Scale"

[illustris · 10/10 · 12 October 2007]

I give it TEN STARS* at my scale.

Additional remarks: This is not a thriller or smashing computer-aided million dollar blockbuster. Instead this is a genuine masterpiece of classical cinematography. Very profound characters, the plot is taking place out of time and geography concentrating our attention on the people's relationships and the mother nature's surroundings, like real life flow.

The other title I would give this movie would be "The Destiny". There are moments in our lives when the certain acts that we perform or even conceive may irrevocably change our life. This movie is about this. Who we listen to, who we ignore, who we selfishly love, why meandering from our true self may destroy ourselves and even ruin everything one has built, and how perilous it is sometimes to be our true selfish self.

Many people blame this movie for the slow pace and scenes of nature, but exactly these two things perfectly serve as background for the development of the events and characters like they were real living people. Even the children in the movie do their job very well. My advice is just to relax and flow along the plot, living together with the characters, at least for two hours.

One incomprehensible thing, nonetheless the camera in the movie may seem unsophisticated the certain images remain branded into my mind, clear images, like in one's childhood. This is real magic pertaining to true cinematography.

* --- I have an independent approach to rating movies. I use it myself and it proved to be helpful to my friends. This approach does not reflect any specific quality, nor playing of actors, camera work, director, script or even budget. Instead, it ranges the work as a whole, indicating its consumer value and time-provedness. The rating can be easily applied to other entertainment articles like music CDs, books or performances, thus making the method universal and simple for both using and understanding. It ranges from one to ten stars according to the statements:

1*......... - I started watching but quit before the end. (I left the house).

2**........ - I could hardly sit out till the end.

3***....... - I saw it once. (It's worth watching once).

4****...... - I saw it and would recommend it to my friends. (It's a discovery!).

5*****..... - I would watch it again and could join a company. (Next time I can invite my friends).

6******.... - I can go and watch it many times. (I must find out if they sell it).

7*******... - I saw it and am about to buy a copy. (Happy to have it on my shelf).

8********.. - I saw it and bought it, I enjoy re-watching selected episodes.

9*********. - I saw and bought it - it comes as a source of citations.

10********** - I saw and bought it, the source of all time enjoyment, my favorite. (Next generation will appreciate it like in 10 or 20 years as well).

If you'd like to use the method please mention it as "illustris Star Scale"

A family leaves the city to vacation in the country

[Red-125 · 9/10 · 1 September 2018]

The Russian film Izgnanie was shown in the U.S. with the title "Banishment." It was directed by Andrey Zvyagintsev.

The movie stars Konstantin Lavronenko as Alexander and Aleksandr Baluev as his brother, Mark. Maria Bonnevie portrays Vera, Aleksander's beautiful wife. (Although her name sounds French, Bonnevie is Norwegian-Swedish. I don't know whether she speaks Russian, or whether her voice was dubbed.)

The film starts and ends with an automobile racing along country roads and then into the city. These almost identical scenes frame a fascinating, complex narrative.

I think the title, accurately translated as Banishment, is misleading. (Well, at least it's misleading in English.) To me, the title implies someone being forced to leave one location and go to another. It's true that Alexander and Vera leave the city and go to a rural area, where they have a home. It's not a dacha--it's an old farmhouse inherited from Alexander's father. Still, they're not forced to go.

After they arrive in the farmhouse, we get hints that something's not right in their lives, but we don't know what it is. We get a clue that the brothers may be criminals, but we never learn just what they do that is illegal.

At first, Vera appears to be an ideal wife and mother, but the situation is much more complex than that.

This is a long movie, but it's never boring. Director Zvyagintsev likes to hold scenes after the main action has taken place. In this context, it's very effective. He also knows how to direct his actors, especially the three leads. Their acting is outstanding.

We saw this movie in 35mm at Rochester's superb Dryden Theatre, at the George Eastman Museum. The Dryden showed three films by Zvyagintsev on consecutive Wednesdays. My compliments to the Dryden for sustaining this high level of programming.

The movie will work better on the large screen, but it's good enough to be sought out and seen on the small screen. The film has an excellent IMDb rating of 7.7. I think it's even better than that.

Epic Russian drama - not for the short of attention span. Anna Karenina stuff.

[joachimokeefe · 9/10 · 1 December 2019]

Superb cinematography, so there's that. You can almost smell the family holiday atmosphere. Two-and-a-half hours of a couple who take their children to visit relatives in the country; except there's something else, something life-changing going on between them. Be advised that an hour and six minutes in, there's a scene of sheep running across a hillside. If you're knocking back a Baltika or three, you may drift off at this point.

But when things start happening, they happen fast - I don't mean gangster action, I mean that you start to realise, at the 90-minute point, that it's all been leading up to the various revelations that happen. You want spoilers?

Ok then, it's quite simple. A woman who feels unloved after so many years of marriage falls pregnant again, but rather than carry on living just as an extension of him, tells her husband it's someone else's baby, knowing that he will expect her to 'get rid' of it. That's only the start.

You should also be aware that at the 2:06 point, this film dissolves smoothly into flashback, which explains the above spoiler, then smoothly dissolves out again. If you miss it, you may wonder why the wife - well, leave it at that.

A beautiful, absorbing drama that takes its time and has a great payoff. Don't worry too much about pausing it to go to the bathroom or make tea for the first ninety minutes. Then pay attention. This movie also has the best rain, real or fake, of any movie ever made.

On love and loss

[juan_palmero2010 · 9/10 · 1 February 2015]

A family with two pre-teen children go to spend some days in the isolated country house where the father was born and raised. The first hours are spent bringing the house back to a minimum of working order, with the children spending much of their time outside in the garden, as children do. And then, in the evening, after dinner, when the children have gone to bed and the adults sit on the terrace on their own, the wife tells her husband something very short and simple that will overhaul his life and set the mood for the rest of the film.

Those looking for easy entertainment, better look elsewhere. The first simple and bleak images and the music already let you know that this is not going to be a relaxing experience. There is tension from the beginning, and it is there to stay until the end.

This is beautiful, artful cinema making, of the kind that requires spectators to approach it with their emotions and an open mind.

Perhaps demanding cinema. Though not overly intellectual (the story is, in some ways, quite a simple one), it contains powerful undercurrents that are not obvious until the very end. Like most good films, you will get more out of this watching it more than once.

Astounding acting by the three main actors. The range of feelings displayed by actors Konstantin Lavronenko and Maria Bonnevie as the married couple and by Aleksandr Baluev (Konstantin's brother in the film and perhaps alter ego) is breathtaking. Bonnevie looks totally natural, even if dubbed, chapeau to her. Lavronenko deservedly got Canne's Best Actor prize in 2007 for his role in this film.

Zvyagintsev's craft, as shown by his other films, is felt from beginning to end, with exquisite attention paid to detail, light, colour, shadows, filming locations.

As with good art, everyone will get something different out of this film. Leaving aside some possible religious or spiritual connotations, I take it that this film contains a reflection on love and the absence of it, about sharing and its limits, that can speak to very wide audiences, irrespective of time and location.

The death of Death

[eurolaura2000 · 10/10 · 16 March 2021]

The drama of the uprooted man, snatched from his land and taken to the city, between 4 cold walls, surrounded by metal, brick and glass, without clean air and light, in pursuit of chimeras (money, car, etc.). Note the contrast between the two worlds, the gray of the industrial city and the perpetual light from the country (probably filmed in the White Nights Russia lands). In this gloomy, industrialized world, life no longer makes sense, souls no longer communicate, doubt creeps into minds, natural connections are perverted. In this gloomy world, she, a sensitive soul, does not want to give birth to Death, a child like her father, dead in life and chooses the right death as a form of purification. A clear sign of this idea is the spring from which water flows again, living water that washes the earth, washes away sins, washes away unlove. Karma was paid, the sacrifice was received. And life goes on. It's harvest time. Another summer has passed. The brother is also an important part of the drama. He represents the deepest perversion and ugliness of the city, a piece of soulless flesh, which no longer cares about anything, giving in to the ephemeral pleasures and which the disease of unlove consumes little by little. And maybe everything would have been so simple. The whole family remains to live in the country, slowly healing under the beneficent rays of the sun and walking barefoot on the land of their ancestors. But it seems that it is too late, evil is already too deep, patience is at its limit, hope is dead.