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The other day I was talking with a good friend of mine, J. Fortune, and I remarked how strange it was that a significant amount of my pageviews was actually coming from the Ursa Major itself, Russia. It was strange yet pleasant surprise, as I have held a fascination with the Russian people and their culture ever since I was but a young Prince Thunderbird. Hell, I was even majoring in Russian for quite some time during my years in college, although I ultimately decided to switch when I failed to progress in the language as quickly as I wished (Russia, your history is way intriguing but why do you make me study like 8 grammatical cases gurl? Also your R is backwards). So as a small way to honor my very special Eastern demographic, I decided to do an entry from the heart of the Motherland itself. Maybe if you spent more time reading FRANCE, and less time with your blancmange, you could get your own dedicated entry one day. We’ll see, we’ll see.
For those of you who remember Rocky V, Russia was at one point known as the U.S.S.R., or the Union of Soviet Socialist Republics (Soviet Union to its friends), a Communist Bloc that stretched over a large portion of the Asian continent. The West (and most likely modern Russians) remember the Soviet Union to be a harsh and restrictive country, and there’s no doubt that the government came down much more aggressively on its citizenry than what we are used to, unless you happen to be not white. Stalin’s era was a time of strict censorship (big surprise), and films of that era tended to gear towards ‘courageous and dutiful worker extols the virtues of labor and communistic lifestyle’, or at least heavily implied it. The only person who was really into the Stalin method however was Stalin himself, and after his death Russian filmmakers were granted a great deal more freedom, not total freedom but hey, all that grant money has to come with some caveat. As it turns out, giving filmmakers the ability to make the films they want can lead to some good films, and wouldn’t you know it, the Kruschev to Brezhnev saw several critically acclaimed films of Russian descent (I have yet to see it, but Height is apparently considered one of the best films of the 1950s on the Russian cinema wikipedia page. Also the Russian cinema wikipedia page seems severely underwritten). The 80s and 90s continued with this trend of liberalization of films, probably because the Russian government had bigger problems to worry about what with their economy collapsing and everything, but the film we’re dealing with this time was right on the cusp of the 70s, 1970 in fact. It’s a little film called White Sun of the Desert and it’s what happens when Russia decides to take Italy’s advice and make their own spaghetti westerns.
That’s right, it’s Commie Cowboy day here on the Thunderbird Ranch.
White Sun of the Desert begins in the harsh and arid dunes of some unnamed desert in the Orient (specifically in what is now known as Tajikistan, if my findings are correct), as our protagonist Sukhov (Anatoly Kuznetsov) beats a path across the burning sands with nothing but a tea kettle of water and an all-purpose utility dagger at his side. Sukhov, it turns out a bit later, is a soldier, one of the best that the Revolutionary Army has to offer (equal to 300 men, I believe it is said) constantly journeying out into unforgiving environments at the behest of his country. Fantastic fighter though he may be, the only thing on Sukhov’s mind is getting back to his verdant home and his beloved wife Katerina (who kind of looks like a matryoshka doll). Sukhov’s narration of his letters to Katerina are a significant portion of the movie, and while I believe it’s a good way to remind the audience of our protagonist’s motivation, it’s done a bit too much for my taste. Leave ‘em wanting more Fyodor, that’s what I say.
After rescuing Said (Spartak Mishulin), who had been buried in sand and left to die, Sukhov is contacted by his fellow soldier by the name of Rakhimov. Rakhimov explains that during a raid on the hideout of bloodthirsty bandit leader ‘Black’ Abdullah (Kakhi Kaysadze), his forces had been able to capture Abdullah’s harem in the aftermath: Dzhamilya, Zarina, Gyuzel, Saida, Khafiza, Zukhra, Leila, Zulfia and Gyulachatai. As he is unable/unwilling to watch over these women, and knowing that Abdullah will no doubt stop at nothing to either retrieve his harem or murder them to remove the problem, Rakhimov implores Sukhov to transport the former wives to the nearby village/museum of Penjikent, and ensure their continued liberation until his forces can return to and transport them out of the country/satellite. Sukhov agrees, and thus the series of events that can be called a movie is set into motion.
While I did say that this movie was the Russian equivalent of the spaghetti western, that is not to say that White Sun of the Desert is ‘The Good, the Bad and the Ugly but with Russians’. Think of it more of an interpretation, taking things like the barren landscapes and classic archetypes (Said is the man searching for his father’s killer, Abdullah is the unredeemable villain, Vereshchagin (Pavel Luspekayev) is the old drunk obsessed with his long past days of glory, etc) and placing it within the Russian perspective, rather than trying to emulate the American West as the Italians did. It’s unique, from a Western perspective at least, to see how foreign countries transform elements of our culture in strange new ways, especially in things that you wouldn’t expect. Russia has just as much, if not more large untamed frontiers than the United States, the biggest surprise is that they didn’t start making their own gunslinger movies years before. Cossacks were practically nomadic cowboys, it totally could have worked out.
Similarly, while we do see Sukhov blast some fuckers away with some hot lead, he is not the stoic protagonist that Clint Eastwood made into a amazing career. Sukhov is a likable, sometimes comical character (his daydream of how his life would be like with a harem seems more from a comedy film than a serious drama), who seems to use his mind as much as his weapon when it comes to taking out his enemies. ‘The warrior who doesn’t seem like a warrior’ is not an uncommon thing in fiction, but I think Anatoly walks the line between unassuming and serious quite well.
The only major complaint that I have, and it might not be a legitimate one, is that there isn’t as much of the culture clash as I would have liked to see. It’s touched upon a little, such as when Abdullah’s former harem assume that Sukhov is their new master, unable to understand the concept of monogamous marriages despite their newfound liberty, but that’s about it. The women, despite acting as the driving force of the plot, aren’t really fleshed out as characters, Gyulachatai being the only one of the women to to hold any sort of significant role. There’s no real sense of conflict in being a stranger in a strange land, and I feel like it was a wasted opportunity to showcase the merging of mainland Russian culture and those of its satellite nations. Of course, given that the Soviet government’s idea of unifying disparate cultures under the Russian umbrella seemed to follow the policy of ‘wipe out foreign lifestyle and beliefs, replace it with Russian lifestyle and beliefs’, it’s possible that what I’m seeing is what was a huge leap forward at the time. If only the Polish were so lucky, eh?
King Thunderbird: The most up-to-date references possible, all the time.
In summary, those interested in old-school foreign cinema or the cinema of Russia in particular would do well in checking out White Sun of the Desert, throwing it in between their copies of Brother and Battleship Potemkin (not alphabetically though). For those who are actually Russian, hopefully I haven’t proven myself to be an ignorant dumbass in regards to your history or ways of life or anything, and you continue to read and enjoy this stupid little blog of mine. Oh, and watch the movie if you haven’t already. You won’t even need subtitles or anything.
Result: Recommended
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