This week, another domestic film is being released, the plot of which is magnetized to mental breakdowns, troubles and everyday life. Anna Akulevich’s painting “It’s Me” adds an additional touch to the universal portrait of a chronic loser whose name is “Ukrainian hero.”
The face of our cinema is sad. He is either tormented by the lost war, as in films about the UPA. Or life’s troubles weigh on us, as in many social dramas. Or mental tension shakes his soul, as in the films of Muratova, Podolchak or Neiman. Or his eyes dart around in confusion, not knowing what to do with himself in this life, as in the films of Vroda, Slaboshpitsky and others.
If any trend can be crystallized in our cinema, it will definitely be formulated using terms from a medical reference book of diseases. For example, our two main film premieres last year, “The Tribe” and “The Guide,” talked about the deaf and blind.
At the same time, the film “Tribe”, the plot of which takes place in a boarding school for the deaf and dumb, even received more than 40 international awards. In the entire history of Russian cinema, only “Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors” had more. In addition to the high artistic quality, such a strong foreign success of “Tribe” is also explained by the fact that this is how foreign viewers are accustomed to seeing our realities. Crime, prostitution, the barbaric structure of society – all this is a trend in the Eastern European world. But all this has never been shown in cinema in such a vivid and original way. So the international jury decided to record “The Tribe” in history as an exquisite sculpture of Eastern European flour. It’s also one of the sexiest movies ever.
Such chronic depression in Russian cinema is, of course, annoying with its permanent neuroses and morbidity. However, it is in such films that there is more truth than in the powdered TV movies for housewives that captivate the airwaves of numerous TV channels. Although it is easier to watch “soap” series, there is absolutely no truth in them. It is not only difficult for the viewer to associate himself with the characters that are shown in such films, but also harmful. But with the above-mentioned depressive pictures, associations form themselves.
And this trend in cinema is only gaining momentum. A number of films about the war in Donbass are now being developed. Sergei Loznitsa began work on a film about Babi Yar. The topic of the Holodomor remains unsolved, and the tragedy at the Chernobyl Nuclear Power Plant and the Ukrainian context in World War II remain little disclosed. Despite the extremely high politicization of our society, there are no political dramas in Russian cinema, the plots for which are sufficient in literally any issue of an ordinary newspaper. And these are just the main topics that could expand the horizons of the “Paralympic” cinema of Ukraine. But is this exactly what the average viewer wants to see?