The films of Andrei Zvyagintsev
Intuitively, Russian filmmaker Andrei Zvyagintsev’s films are escapist. For one who has directed only two films till date, drawing such a conclusion is jumping the gun but then you watch both his movies and find yourself being introduced to a singular and staid cinematic language. One that defines its elements distinctly using them in recurrently in both the movies with varying implications. What you see is not what it is. But then, you are not able to brush away the immediate response either. It’s conflicting.
Zvyagintsev is not concerned about worldly matters. His films are grounded in themes of individuals in crises; their spaces in the family and the tensions within. The instigating factor is the father’s absence. While his debut, Vozvrashcheniye (The Return) focuses on two young boys trying to make sense of the father’s sudden return home after twelve years, Izgnanie (The Banishment) the second film delves into the alienation and apathy plaguing a spousal relationship with the man often away for work.
If the familial roles and relations are under threat, Zvyagintsev throws open the predicament by displacing the characters from the surroundings that maybe, discomfort them the most. The home is no longer the haven. He then gives way to a world secluded from the hustle-bustle of the regular, a coastal trip for the father and sons in the first story and a vacation in the ancestral home in a remote village in The Banishment. None of this eases the strain of acknowledging the wrong but it sets the pitch for navigating through the mess and finding resolutions, whatsoever it means to them. The dynamics of a specific temporal and spatial setting having been done away with, the characters are let loose to explore do their equations.
However, Zvyagintsev doesn’t let go of his rein. If it’s the desperate need for acceptance in the acutely skewed relationship, it will be initially acknowledged either through force or manipulatively. So for the father in The Return, paternal authority is a given, caring a damn that he has to rightfully earn it from his sons. Vera, the wife in The Banishment will admit that her husband is not the father of her to-be-born. Then begins the struggle.
It’s enigmatically laid out, taking different paths in the two stories.
Sweeping landscapes, barren roads embellished with lush greenery, the sometimes-clear-blue-other-times-heavily-overcast-sky, the deafening downpour, the calm sea and finally, the desolate island are all come-bys for the father and the sons. Pristine and laidback, but for Ivan and Andrei every stop further from home is spiraling into a test of wills against the father. As he verbally roughs them up, bullies them, incites them to get physical, clues are strewn about rationalizing his brazenness. Infact the trip itself is this. But then, it’s no justification. 
The kids are bordering on child abuse. Andrei, the older, though uncertain and conscious, struggles to cope. If this is what it takes to become a man. Like Papa. Ivan, twelve, very skeptical of the man’s intentions becomes openly defiant. By the time they’ve landed on the island you aren’t quite convinced if retaliation is the best alternative. You are not allowed to think. Its just one random snap and you are left all alone. No point in rumination. There is only the emptiness and the strange feeling of immense relief. But then, at what cost? For the father. For Ivan. For Andrei.
For Vera and her husband Alex the family home, standing secluded on a vast prairie, becomes their island. Her confession, he does not understand. She will not have it any other way. A couple grown so apart, the other’s language becomes unfamiliar. Lain in bed together, yet alone and burdened. Instead of verbalizing the misery, confronting the misunderstood, choosing silences and vague talk. The simmering tension will boil over, you believe. They have been married long enough to penetrate these impediments. You are inclined to favour one from the other. You swing back. You wait. You hope. Wait hopelessly. One act and you are denied it all.
The paths converge with the abrupt collapse of the relationships. The characters are deliberately left to grope for motives but it is futile. None of them explore the others’ world. As strangers they meet, relations they are unable to forge. If the pattern leaves one with a feeling of pessimism, Zvyagintsev relegates it to a subtext in a differing manner.
What he intends reveals itself through the unsaid – the visuals laden with biblical symbolisms and references. In The Return, the allegory is the story itself – father and son and the sacrifice that is imperative to grow up – till the devastating end. The sleeping father (when he is first introduced) is reminiscent of a painting lamenting Jesus’ death. Ivan scrambles up the loft to find an old family picture in a book – page has an illustration of Abraham’s sacrifice of Isaac. The day the father returns home; the role of the wife and mother; the days of the trip; the last day. The religious hold up validates the actions and repercussions, but at the heart of it, you want the father and sons to begin anew. Else what is one left with when all is lost?
The Banishment (biblically, Adam and Eve from Eden; here from their home) takes a different turn. Zvyagintsev uses a specific biblical moment exactly the time when Alex has decided how he and Vera could move on. There is this quiet scene of the kids lain on the floor piecing together a picture puzzle…its incomplete but you can see a woman left below and another on the right above. It’s the angel’s visit to Mother Mary indicating that she is the chosen one to give birth even though a virgin. Later when the kids are ready for bed, Frida reads out certain passages from the bible – it is 1 Corinthians 13 – the chapter on love.
Though I speak with the tongues of men and of angels, and have not love, I am become as sounding brass, or a tinkling cymbal.
And though I have the gift of prophecy, and understand all mysteries, and all knowledge; and though I have all faith, so that I could remove mountains, and have not love, I am nothing.
And though I bestow all my goods to feed the poor, and though I give my body to be burned, and have not love, it profiteth me nothing.
Love suffereth long, and is kind; love envieth not; love vaunteth not itself, is not puffed up,
Doth not behave itself unseemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily provoked, thinketh no evil;
Rejoiceth not in iniquity, but rejoiceth in the truth;
Beareth all things, believeth all things, hopeth all things, endureth all things.
A subtle, direct connect to Vera’s confession and what true meaning it holds. Earlier, her resigned lament about the son becoming like the father, she later stroking his face in bed are those tiny hints to be nailed down for interpretation. Alex though is never completely shown what he is supposed to be. Doubts prevail.
Then, a black cat passing over the picture and later hordes of crows nosily flying over the home imminent of the fatal outcome of their decision.
This asks the viewer to rethink his immediate receptiveness to the characters’ plight. It’s not easy because character wise the inferences still hold even though you are revealed the contrary. (If you’ve read William Saroyan novel The Laughing Matter on which the movie is based, I think it’ll fall into place)
Layered and complex, the stories do not unfold through the characters but a lot through the implicit and the shown. It could take more than a single viewing to decipher the symbols but its worth it and allows you to value and interpret the happenings in a truer sense. It’s another thing whether you relate to the confluence or not. Andrei Zvyagintsev’s films are rooted in this portrayal of humanist religious themes.
If the visual imagery evokes one name – Tarkovsky – it is misleading. There is the likeness but Zvyagintsev personalizes the design for his 
own distinctive exploits. You’d catch a little bit of Terrence Malick too, the late afternoon get-together awash with the sun’s rays enveloping the scene in pale gold-yellow. But none is a mere replication. Zvyagintsev also loves the sound of nature. The pitter patter of the rain, the crushing of leaves under the walking feet, the gushing wind, the waves lapping at the shore, the slurs of the oars cutting through the water accentuates the breathing, the sudden cry, the distinct voice, the silence of the protagonists. All these blend with distinctive intentions of their own to direct and ground the viewer to the characters and their story.
The choice of music for the background score is such that it at times is haunting, at times melancholic. Pieces from Mozart’s collection and Andrei Dergachyov’s composition, the music in Vozvrashcheniye makes its way into a scene to make you realize that was what was missing till then. Zvyagintsev uses it for a greater role in Izgnanie using Johann Bach’s Magnificat, a sacred hymn of praise for Virgin Mary. The movie’s last scene is a group of Russian village women harvesting and singing a folk song that apparently signifies hope and renewal (Aptly another woman walks by with a baby in her arms) ending with a classical choral piece from by Estonian composer Arvo Pärt. Brooding and introspective.
The repetitive patterns take form even in the little gestures and pictograms strewn about. Photographs. Vozvrashcheniye ends with a collage of stunning black and white photographs of Ivan, Andrei, mother and father in different moods – at times cheerful, at times lonesome. The bygone. Vera, holding responsible the past insinuated through the family pictures she shows Robert. Zvyagintsev’s choice of women – the mother and Vera – blonde, sensuous, enigmatic, distant – barely communicating, a stare or a lopsided smile barely seems to be. Acutely sparse environs – strangers don’t matter – familial members are outsiders themselves. Some don’t work though, particularly in Izgnanie – the long drawn shot of the stream finding the path from its genesis, the reflections in puddles, the stares into the landscapes, stills on the characters faces, though beautiful, seem vacant because they don’t talk or pull the viewer to fill in the spaces.
Andrei Zvyagintsev made his debut Vozvrashcheniye at the age of thirty-nine in 2003. Four years later came Izgnanie. Motifs of religion are tied with familial conflicts (these two films have focused on the role of the father / husband maybe because the director himself was abandoned by his when six) and search for identities. Placed in milieus intended to gradually reveal the humane, the spiritual and their connection as Zvyagintsev wants to create, they do not become cohesive but then here are films that make the viewer think, take effort to evaluate, to find meanings – whether agreeable or otherwise. This director is now known to be the new voice in Russian cinema. He is not just talented but is genuinely trying to create a fluent cinematic voice of his own.
The Return ends with this wonderful collage:
The Banishment (no subtitles tho):
Anurag Kashyap
Abhay Deol
Dibakar Banerjee
Hansal Mehta
Khalid Mohamed
Kundan Shah
Anish Kuruvilla
Jaideep Verma
Manish Gupta
Navdeep Singh
Bhavani Iyer
D. Santosh
Onir
Ashvin Kumar
Ramu Ramanathan
Sudhir Mishra
Pankaj Advani
Revathy
Saurabh Shukla
Shilpa Shukla
Sujoy Ghosh
Suparn Verma
Santosh Sivan
Shashank Ghosh
Shivajee
Pavan Kaul
Partho Sen-Gupta
Prroshant Naryannan
Sam Langoria
Satish Kasetty
There are many metaphors explaining The Return.The popular one being that the father represents the old Russian soviet rule which was lost not long ago and recently re-surfaced only to confuse the young Russians. The older brother represents the common,un-intelligent, naive Russians who is ready for a change while the younger one is the Gen-X Russian who is obviously skeptical and irritated to welcome the Soviet rule. There are amazing ‘post-mortem’ explanations regarding this movie on the net. An amazing movie though!
Did you know Vladimir Garin,the older bro Andre,was found dead near the lake where the major part of the shooting was held shortly after the shooting was finished! This was the only movie he acted.
yup..the political…comes as a consequence..it kind of puts a stamp on what hap to father n sons..many films draw such…cudnt quite relate to it as much the conflicting meaning bet the implicit and the struggle of the family….thats what got to me….its so blatant yet quite perceptible to the keen…..raises diff qns…
Vladimir died just before the film’s Cannes glory….he was no actor like the boy who played Ivan…infact was training to be an opera singer…but fate willed otherwise….
great detailed writeup on two of the most important films of this decade. They dont make movies this relevant and specific anymore.
Movies have ended up as either a buoyant entertainer or collage of indiscriminate gore and so-called ‘cool violence’…
Nice article. Thanks that you took pain to explore the Russian Cinema. its a new territory for me.
Arthi
Good write-up. Years ago(80’s) when Doordarshan was the only gateway for foreign movies – a Russian movie about prison escape was telecasted.
The movie was very captivating and for me its the best prison theme movie ever. Sad part is — I just don’t remember the movie title. Google was of no help. Any chance that you know this Russian movie title? or maybe an European movie?
Satya
No clue Satya…there cud b a few…:)..
Nice article. I haven’t watched any Russian movies before. Gotta watch these two after reading the reading the article.