Elena
Directed By:
Andrei Zvyagintsev
Written By: Oleg
Negin
Starring: Nadezdha
Markina, Andrey Smirnov, Aleksey Rozin, and Yelena Lyadova
Director of Photography: Mikhail Krichman, Editor: Anna
Mass, Art Direction: Andrey Ponckratov, Original Music: Philip Glass
The two
worlds that Elena, the elderly and titular protagonist of this austere and
intelligent Russian drama, inhabits couldn’t be starker. On one side is the
sterile, almost silent world that her and her husband dwell. The only noises are
the sounds of coffee grinding or doors sliding open, as well for the constant
cawing of black crows (a foreboding sign of things to come). Everything feels
sterile and in complete order, designed for minimal chaos to produce maximal
efficiency. And then there is the home of Elena’s son Sergey, which is
littered, constantly bombarded by video games and television noises, and
cramped. This is how the other half lives, and it is not to be trusted.
In what
would seem rare today in Hollywood filmmaking, Elena is a rare film that is not only surprisingly conservative in
its politics but highly thrilling. Liberal films—or at least films that tout
liberal ideas—are a dime a dozen, most of them barely interested in political
ideas. But director Andrei Zvyaginstev and screenwriter Oleg Negin have deliberately
taken on class in what spins into a Hitchcock-like thriller, and brings such an
apt and nuanced hand to its political statement, cleverly disguised as a
morality tale. It’s the type of great filmmaking that could easily convince you
of its talking points.
Shot often
in quiet, still wide shots, Zvyaginstev allows for the drama to unfold slowly,
only clueing us into the particulars of Elena’s life. We soon learn that she
and her her husband, Vladimir, have been married for only a short time, and
both have children from previous relationships. Elena’s son is a mess, young
but already with two children (one infant, one quite unruly and undisciplined).
Sergey always seems to get the best of Elena as well, asking her to get money
from Vladimir to pay for his son’s college, so he can avoid the army.
Vladimir’s own daughter Katerina is her own special mess, but a stroke of luck
(literally) brings the two together, which puts the money Elena needs in
jeopardy.
The film
uses the stillness of the camera to chill us at every moment. A choice piece of
music composed by Philip Glass repeats throughout the film, like a foreboding
sign from God coming down and forcing these characters into tough moral
decisions. Zvyaginstev is content to let the camera linger, forcing these
characters to retreat into their thoughts and often the darkest parts of their
souls. This is allows Nadezdha Markina, who plays Elena, to give her character
terrific subtlety through her dynamic expressions, which seem to reveal both
everything and nothing at the same time. Markina’s withered look gives the film
its anchor as we watch her world collapse, never shouting, but always reacting
to the trembling chaos around her. The comparison to Hitchcock becomes quite
apt as the film is often darkly comic and sadistic in its examination of these
characters, showing little sympathy for those who break beyond the normal
boundaries of morality.
The fact
that I fell in love with Elena and
that perhaps Mitt Romney could as well speaks to the power of the filmmaking,
despite the very conservative message at the heart of this Russian drama. While
a late visual metaphor of a fallen horse is a step too far by Negin, the rest
of Elena is so sublimely controlled
and morally complex to make this one of the exciting thrillers of the year, and
a dangerous look at how as much our children fail us, it is us who often fail
our children more. The film’s final few shots put shocks through one’s bones of
the horrors we have seen, as well as those yet to pass. Elena is the rare look at the 99% from the point of view of the 1%.
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