(Mikhail
Kalatozov/1957/Russia)
After
Stalin’s brain exploded in 1953 and Russia started emerging from
the shadow of his cult of personality there was a welcome relaxing of
constrictions on those involved in cultural production. Film makers
could finally present ideas that weren’t necessarily in line with
the party view. If you look at any of Kalatozov’s post war films
prior to 1953 there is a tension between the ideology of the
narrative and the formal structure of the cinematography. By the time
he came to make The Cranes Are Flying he had established a working
relationship with Sergey Urusevsky, one of Russia’s finest
cinematographers, and was in a position to introduce ideas in his
films which were far more critical than previously allowed. He could
also dally with melodramatic forms discovered during his recent time
spent in Hollywood. I mention these things by way of a preamble
because The Cranes Are Flying is one of the greatest Russian films
ever made. It begins a thread through post war Russian cinema that
takes in Ballad of a Soldier(1959), Nine Days of One Year(1962) and
Ivan’s Childhood(1962) and represents an era of innovation and
experiment in film making.
Before
any credits we see Veronika and Boris hand in hand beside the Moskva
River. They see cranes in a V formation in the sky and Boris recites
a rhyming couplet, “Cranes like ships, sailing in the sky. White
ones and grey ones, with long beaks they fly.” The image of the
cranes will book end the film, traditionally in Russian literature
and folklore they represent hope and optimism. All that happens
between those bookends is a falling away from and a return to the
hope the cranes symbolize. The crux of the film is the love story of
Veronika and Boris which is interrupted by the war. Boris volunteers
for the army and goes to the front. He becomes listed as missing in
action and Veronika is left at home with no communication for years.
She becomes involved with Mark, Boris’ brother, although it is out
of exhaustion at his advances than anything else. It’s an unhappy
marriage and her hope for word from Boris never flags. When the war
ends every character on screen has been indelibly changed by their
experiences. It is a film that concentrates on the effect of war on
those left at home as friends and family go off to fight.
The first
section is visually brilliant with many shots framing the couple in
angles of architecture. There are vistas of characters from low down
with the camera angled up. One striking scene is in a bombed house
with Veronika running up a ragged stairwell contrasting with the
stairwell and steps from earlier in the film when she and Boris
dallied, in love and happy. The framing and mise en scene constantly reflect the emotions occurring on screen. Urusevsky's camera colonizes the emotional space of the characters. However the most extraordinary scene is when Boris leaves. Beginning with the family as he says his goodbyes there is a cut to an incredible handheld shot following Veronika as she disembarks a bus and runs through crowded streets as she attempts to see Boris before his train leaves. It's a short shot and cuts back to an emotional exchange between Boris' parents before showing Boris waiting for her to arrive at the station. It is breathtaking cinema.
The middle section of the film veers into
the melodramatic and is striking for that as it would not have been a
common genre in Russian film at the time. The emotive scenes in the
work house and with Veronika and the young boy, another Boris, all
build towards the closing scenes at the end of the war. The
resolution of Veronika’s story as she accepts her fate and
celebrates, through tears, with the crowds that have gathered to
welcome the soldiers home sees her return to a state of hopefulness
for the future and we see the cranes again. It’s a magnificent film
blending structural symbolism, party idealism and emotional drama to
produce a critique of war that transcends any distinctly Russian
outlook and attains a universal human appeal.
(4.5/5)