The Cranes Are Flying

(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)