Dir. Boris Khelbnikov and Alexei Popogrebsky, 2003, Russia, 105 mins
Cast:
Igor Chernevich, Gleb Puskepalis, Vladimir Kucherenko, Agippina Steklova
After his wife's death and the alcohol induced loss of his job as an aerodynamic engineer (Igor Chernevich) sets off from Moscow with his 11-year-old son (Gleb Puskepalis ) for his sister's house in Koktebel by the Black Sea. Their journey is tough one, as set out with brilliant economy with the opening scenes; the unnamed protagonists emerge carrying their makeshift camping equipment in the dark early morning light from a decidedly bleak storm drain shelter, and continue the arduous trek to seemingly mythical seaside town.
The directors Boris Khelbnikov and Alexei Popogrebsky's script was one of ten scripts selected by the international PitchPoint competition, and the writers were invited to present it at the 2001 Berlin Film Festival. Since being shot entirely on location in rural regions of Russia and Ukraine the film has gone onto garner a great deal of festival success, including winning both the Grand Jury Prize and Fipresici Special Prize at the Moscow film festival, and more recently showing at the London Film Festival.
It is the relationship between "the father" and "the son" which is central focus and source of tension in Koktebel. The young boy's childhood, already imperilled from his mother's death and his father's drink problem, is further jeopardised by the harsh realities of travelling through autumnal Russia on foot or stowing away on empty railroad containers. Ironically the very thing that keeps the son striving on, the father's compelling recollections on the flight of the albatross, talk of gliders, the sea and of Koktebel itself, is also the very thing that eventually breaks their bond and sets the son off on his own course.
Puskepalis, for so young an actor, manages to convey a detached, intelligent, loyal and stoic young boy, though is all to aware of his father's alcoholism and limitations. Chernevich 's performance as the father is equally thoughtful and powerful; there is an inherent sadness in his every action and demeanour. Most importantly it is a believable relationship, one under strain, with much unsaid.
During their travels people help or give shelter to the father and son, and whether it is out of simple human kindness, loneliness or in payment for them to fix a leaking roof, the film captures a very sincere level of realism of human interaction. The supporting cast is small but of a high standard, nothing is overplayed, even the drunken old Dacha owner (Kucherenko) who amusingly insists on randomly quoting bizarre sayings to the bemused boy, and who eventually turns on them, is in turns monstrous yet somehow engaging. One slight gripe is the female doctor (Agippina Steklova), whose burgeoning sexual relationship with the father eventually causes the son to continue to Koktebel alone, whose part is uncharacteristically underwritten.
Koktebel above all is a lyrical film, a travelogue that rarely feels like one - the grim beauty of the Russian countryside is unobtrusive, often dreamy and at times mesmeric. The poetic tone of Shandor Berkeshi's cinematography perfectly complements the taut script and mostly sombre tone of the talented, understated naturalistic acting. The directors however (unlike with every other aspect of the story) are not strict enough concerning the editing of their admittedly beautiful imagery, and occasionally this overbears the film, lending a certain slackness to the pacing in some latter sections and perhaps the audience's feeling of connection to the central story. This said the filmmakers are undeniable talents, crafting from a simple story an unusual hopeful, mournful, at times grimly funny piece that in the hands of lesser writer/directors would have had measurably less impact.
Paul Nash
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