Review of the sports drama “Kretsul” by Alexandra Likhacheva

Alexandra Likhacheva’s feature directorial debut “Kretsul” is being released, an arthouse biopic of Moldovan judoka Oleg Kretsul, who became blind as a result of an accident and became a champion of the Paralympic Games and multiple winner of other competitions. However, here the focus is not on the uplifting story of overcoming, but on Kretsul’s relationship with his friend and coach Vitaly Gligor, the honesty in the portrayal of which surprised Yulia Shagelman.

Unlike most traditional biopics, the main character for whom the film is named does not even appear on screen right away. First we get a glimpse into the home life of his friend Vitaly (Sergei Volkov). It’s roughly the mid-nineties, and his home, of course, is poor. A tired mother (Angela Josan) peels potatoes and tries to persuade her two adult sons to find work, but Vitaly flatly refuses to become a security guard at the factory where his father (Andrey Porubin) works. He spends his time with friends who seem to be involved, among other things, in petty crime (because, see above, that’s what time is like), and in judo training, which his parents don’t see much point in.

But the best friend Oleg (Nikita Volkov; the actors in the leading roles are not relatives, but namesakes, although this coincidence unexpectedly reflects the film’s key motif of the brotherhood of heroes) returns from the next international competition with a medal and gifts: a tracksuit and car rims brought directly to him . A few days later, he gets married: the darkish shooting with a hand-held camera gives way to stylized home video, capturing rituals familiar to every viewer who grew up in the post-Soviet space – bride price, etc. At the wedding, toasts are heard about the groom’s brilliant prospects in sports and in life.

Prospects are cut short when Oleg and his young wife get into a car accident – she dies and he loses his sight. Another friend of his, nicknamed Elephant (Vladimir Gartsunov), tries to threaten the KamAZ driver, whom he considers to be the culprit of the accident, but this is rather a gesture of senseless despair. And so “Kretsul” is not a movie in which the characters openly express their feelings. Vitaly silently comes to Oleg in the hospital, without further ado pushes him back into training, and with financial help from Elephant organizes a trip to the competition in Vilnius. He becomes a coach, a guide, a support for his friend (in the literal sense – Oleg walks, holding his shoulder) and practically his shadow. When Kretsul receives an offer to join the Russian national team, Gligor follows him, although he is offered the position not of a coach, but only of an accompanying person.

Alexandra Likhacheva started with documentary films, and this is reminded not only by the fact that the script, co-authored with her by Vitaly Gligor himself, was based on a real story, but also by the entire style of the film. The camera of cinematographer Marius Panduru, who worked with Romanian “new wave” directors Radu Jude and Corneliu Porumbaiu, follows the characters almost closely and at the same time seems to be trying not to give himself away: their backs and the backs of their heads are more often captured in the frame than their faces. The film contains more monotonous sports life with hotel corridors and canteen dinners than the actual competitions, filmed without any pathos or adrenaline – the struggle becomes colored with emotions only closer to the finale, when Kretsul is injured, but still goes out onto the tatami. The dialogues sound fragmentary and awkward, just like in real life, and there are more pauses than words.

In these pauses, in the faces on which boyish determination is forever frozen, in Vitaly’s rare glances at the camera, that difficult-to-formulate intimacy is hidden that turned friendship into an indissoluble symbiosis. There is also a conflict smoldering, which breaks out several times at different stages of their joint biography, but never goes into the open stage: Vitaly, absolutely devoted to Oleg, nevertheless sometimes feels relegated to the background and relegated to the level of a servant, and Oleg rebels against constant control and strict discipline. The fact that these emotions, no matter how latent they were, were nevertheless included in the film is an example of rare courage for biopics, especially those filmed with the direct participation of still living prototypes. But perhaps this particular film became a way for them to admit to each other something that in reality was hidden behind masculine grunts, mutual teasing and bickering about a sports diet.