I
began my studies at VGIK, the All-Russian State University of
Cinematography in Moscow in the year 1986. In the very same year, the
influence of Perestroika finally reached the forbidden films that had
gathered on the institute's shelves for decades. The largest movie
theatre in the school, the Aktovyij hall, held weekly preview
screenings of new and "old" films due for premiere.
During
one of these screenings, I also had my first exposure to Alexander
Sokurov as a filmmaker. The Lonely Voice of Man had been completed as
long ago as 1978, and had originally been intended as Sokurov's
diploma work at VGIK. However, the outside jury committee thought the
film was politically incorrect; in other words, it did not reflect
the Party's doctrine on how the post-civil-war period was to be
presented in the Soviet Union. The mental trauma accrued by the main
character in the civil war, the presentation of intellectuals as
sufferers, and the actual famine that raged in the war-torn country
were not among acceptable points of view. Andrei Tarkovsky did
everything in his power to save the film, and Lenfilm together with
the Film Union reconstructed the film in 1987. The value of this film
academy has always been based on a respect for the traditions of humanism.
Throughout its history, the VGIK faculty has always consisted of the
country's leading filmmakers who, for one reason or another, have
been out of favour with those in power.
This
first film by Sokurov left an indelible impression on me. None of his
later films have been so austerely true; a mind wounded by civil war
struggling back to life through the power of love.
During
the same year, I also saw another one of Sokurov's films. The
documentary footage from the squalor of a Central Asian village; the
apathetic stares of the mentally ill; when combined with a fiction
narrative, these images struck me with the force of a physical blow.
In Days of Eclipse, Sokurov already employed all of his trademark
stylistic traits: using documentary material in a fiction film, using
amateur actors alongside professionals, and incorporating scale
models into landscapes.
The
next time I met Sokurov was in 2003, when Russian Ark opened the
DocPoint documentary film festival in Helsinki. The festival also
hosted a seminar at which Sokurov delivered a monologue, lasting
several hours, on his most important "theses". I still
recall what he said about feeling: "The only gauge of art in
society is its warmth or lack thereof; the more warmth and emotional
experience the artist is able to convey, the more conflicts he will
have with society." This emotional warmth can be identified in
the spiritual struggles of Sokurov's film characters. With his 17
fiction films and over 30 documentaries, Sokurov has created "another
life", as he calls cinema.
With
my film essay, I wish to portray the universal human values
championed by Alexander Sokurov, and not to create a traditional,
one-sided portrait of a director. The film seeks to express a
worldview that is all too rare today – a perspective that could be
described as humanism, correctly understood.
- Leena Kilpeläinen, director
- Leena Kilpeläinen, director
