Survival Instinct

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Mitya (Mikhail Yevlanov) returns to find his fiancee pursued by the captain on his trail.

Survival Instinct

There's little heroism to speak of in Dmitry Meskhiyev's new World War II film about three Soviet prisoners on the run.

By Tom Birchenough
Published: November 12, 2004

In the wake of World War II, the war film genre became a staple of Soviet cinema, with its frequently and typically one-sided depiction of the conflict. Things haven't changed much either, as witnessed by the success of Nikolai Lebedev's similarly simplistic film, "The Star" (Zvezda), two years ago. A certain overlap can even be seen in recent works that turn attention to Chechnya.

But at the same time, there were always exceptions. Perhaps the most notable was Elem Klimov's 1984 "Come and See" (Idi i Smotri), prepared, ironically, for the solemn 40th-anniversary memorialization of the conflict. In a hint of the early spirit of perestroika, Klimov's film utterly negated the clean, clear values of the traditional genre for the grime, squalor and ambiguity that characterized the war. It went on to gather remarkable acclaim around the world, pitched almost exactly -- though perhaps unintentionally -- to the revisionist mood of the times.

Dmitry Meskhiyev's "Our Own" (its Russian title, Svoyi, was variously translated as "Us" and "Friendly Troops" at June's Moscow International Film Festival, where it collected prizes for best film, best director and, absolutely deservedly for Ukrainian veteran Bogdan Stupka, best actor), is a similar case in point. There is precious little heroism in this story of survival on the run, and a great deal of moral, and very human, ambiguity.

Beginning with a surprise attack in 1941 on a western Soviet garrison town by German troops, it breaks from traditional Soviet war films by showing the uncertainty and desperation that ensues. Among those captured are Jewish politburo representative Livshits (Konstantin Khabensky), sniper Mitya (Mikhail Yevlanov) and secret service officer Tolya (Sergei Garmash), who immediately changes to civilian clothing to escape the likely execution that his status would bring. That, and a dramatically shot attack and reaction sequence, helps to set the strong opening tone.

Breaking to scenes of forced-march evacuation to a prison camp, the film's mood cools, though it's obvious that the prisoners will do anything to ensure their own survival. Mitya's home village is close to the route, and the unlikely threesome escapes to find refuge in the barn of his father, Ivan, played by Stupka. It's at this point that the moral ambiguities really kick in.

Ivan has been appointed headman of the local village by the German forces. He is also an escapee from the gulag, and his grudge against the Soviet government is palpable. Keeping his obvious local influence and connections in mind, he weighs his choices carefully. Should he give up the other two fugitives to local authorities to ensure that his son can stay in hiding? How to placate the surrounding characters, who are all too aware that the three are holed up in his barn? Who is he prepared to sacrifice -- even among his relatives -- to secure his son's life? Who, precisely, is "our own"?

Tensions only grow when a local police captain (Fyodor Bondarchuk) arrests Ivan's daughters as part of the resulting clampdown. To resolve the situation, Bondarchuk's character proposes to marry Mitya's sometime fiancee, Katya (Anna Mikhalkova), precipitating a denouement that is highly driven in Valentin Chernikh's accomplished script right up to the final scene. Complicating the matter is the sexual desperation that settles on the village, as some of the film's female supporting characters adjust to the fact that their partners are long, if not forever, absent because of the war. The interaction of all the players is very finely honed, and topped by Stupka's outstanding performance.

Moreover, Sergei Machilsky's cinematography is little short of brilliant. The indoor scenes are claustrophobic, while the landscape sequences are dark and use as little color as is necessary. The bleached effect may be due to the use of desaturated color film stock, but director Meskhiyev also made sure to shoot outdoor scenes only when local weather was overcast.

Arguably, there is a narrative lapse in the film's closing scenes, but the blemish is a small one indeed when set against the "bigger picture." And Meskhiyev's "Our Own," far and away his strongest film to date, is certainly a big picture.

"Our Own" (Svoyi) is playing in Russian at theaters citywide.

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