Defense of Balabanov – Weekend – Kommersant

At the closing of the Message to Man International Film Festival, the world premiere of Lyubov Arkus’ film Balabanov. Bell tower. Requiem”, work on which she began two years before the death of her close friend, the favorite of the magazine “Seance” and the most important Russian director of the turn of the century. It took more than 10 years for the work to be completed, but right now it looks especially relevant.

Text: Zinaida Pronchenko

Nevsky Prospekt in the already frosty autumn haze, in the distance the imperial gold of the Admiralty, people hurrying along the chaotic trajectories of doom, among anxious and at the same time distant faces, the dreamy Sergei Bodrov / Danila Bagrov – brother, intercessor, savior, who had just returned from the first Chechen war. He has a player in his left pocket, a pistol in his right pocket, and his heart beats in his bosom. And in the heart beats not for life, but for death, God with the devil.

Here it is, the new Russia (sample of 1997) in the lens of its most popular director. From today, it seems that Alexei Balabanov’s personal dream of truth and power has turned into a collective nightmare, because it was misinterpreted, no matter who, God-bearing people or a bunch of Pharisees. Force and violence are not the same – Lyubov Arkus, a close friend of Balabanov, explains behind the scenes in a tired voice, so close that in his dock he calls the genius at home Alyosha. Her film Balabanov. Bell tower. Requiem begins with a brilliant film-critical essay about the director’s universe, and then transforms into a diary letter about cursed days. In this introductory speech, which is too reminiscent of a disclaimer in form, Arkus assumes the authority of a lawyer, because it is in 2022 that Balabanov especially needs protection from those viewers who, except for “you will answer us for Sevastopol,” did not remember anything, nothing did not want to understand.

Instead of arguments, Arkus cites a scene from “Brother”, which for some reason many overlooked – a dialogue between Danila and Nemets in the middle of abandoned graves. From truth to lies, from strength to violence, there is only one step, or rather, a shot, and Danila has already pulled the trigger, which means he has also disappeared. Just like the new Russia, now Novorossia, just like the author of a cruel but beautiful myth himself, who at the end of his life became disillusioned with the possibility of theodicy in the homeless expanses of our Motherland. At the “creative evening” in the legendary St. Petersburg book “Word Order”, answering the questions of young people about whether there will ever be happiness in our land, whether they will take us all to the bell tower from the latest film “I also want to”, Balabanov says: ” Motherland, it’s too big.” And in this characterization one can hear the echo of another catchphrase – “she drowned.” But it is still the winter of 2013 in the yard, exactly nine years before the complete immersion to the bottom.

That Nevsky Prospekt, which is around the corner from The Order of Words, that vague smile of Bodrov, listening to the lyrics of Nautilus on a granite embankment pierced by seven winds, all past life, an integral part of which were Balabanov’s films – all this is true now looks like Atlantis. Not only those who left, but also those who remained. And they dream of, wherever they are – in Paris, Astana, Istanbul, Tbilisi or in their own home – the famous Balabanov passages: along bridges over rivers and canals, along courtyards-wells similar to prison ones, along the outskirts and center, along snow and ice. These passages, by the way, despite Balabanov’s seemingly obvious soil-practice, are somewhat reminiscent of Melville and Godard, and Bodrov, Chadov, or Bichevin, slowly walking or rapidly running through the void, are Reggiani, Belmondo, Delon, overcoming the last meters before open the door to oblivion.

Obvious soil partisanship, but on the home chronicle Balabanov, reluctantly telling his son, burdened with a stupid school assignment, which Russian writers he loved in childhood, lists: Cooper, Salinger, Hemingway. And Dostoevsky? And Tolstoy? His wife tells him. No, no and NO.

The riddle of the Russian soul, according to Balabanov, lies in the simple (historical) fact that the soul does not want to linger in the body, because it is part of an ugly, albeit firmly sewn reality. That is why in Russia the living hasten to give way to the dead, and the dead are more alive than all the living. His main film about Russia is called “Cargo 200”, a material, but already inanimate cargo. Dead nature under the thickness of dead water, which the hero of Makovetsky crosses on a boat, like Charon, leaving behind both freaks and people.

For many years, the most striking image from Balabanov’s legacy was considered a maniac policeman entering the city of Leninsk – a conditional kingdom of the dead – on a motorcycle with a sidecar under “On a small raft” by Yuri Loza. This autumn, the first thing that comes to mind from Balabanov is the empty tram from the first “Brother” heading to the depot. A tragic hole in its interior, through which a dank, informal city is visible. A life given over to death. We’re not there, that’s for sure. The only question is whether it is temporary or permanent. Balabanov is also not there to answer the silence.

---

Subscribe to Weekend channel in Telegram