I watched "Russian Ark" on a Friday night. A large red poster was posted at the entrance of the Daguangming Cinema. The design was very beautiful, with the "Exhibition of Russian Film Masters" printed on it. There are two such posters, one is slightly lower, and the other is hung high, so that the audience can use it as a background when taking photos, or take a literary photo that contains both a movie theater and a poster from across the road.
"Russian Ark" is the first film to be screened. After the pandemic stopped and restarted, the small congestion at the entrance of the cinema was audiences holding QR codes waiting for their health confirmation. When you enter the theater, you will see another team. Those who left the front of the team held official postcards in their hands. I believe that there is a secretive relationship between them and those who are still waiting at the end of the team. All this is arranged warmly and touchingly, as if movies alone are not enough.
My seat is at the very front of the huge cinema. In the earlier rows, a family who was obviously from Russia didn't seem to have a good understanding of the great design of the seat, and it took a lot of effort to sit in their respective positions. As soon as she sat down, the hostess of the family immediately took off the mask, looked around, and put on the mask again.
Before the movie started, there was a small opening ceremony, which was very boring. In addition to a few jokes caused by the crappy Chinese of the Russian representative, it was the routine applause after each speech. I felt in a daze that the size of the clapping sound also involved certain political issues. I don't know if the Russian family will agree with me. In the repeated "cultural exchange" discourse, the audience no longer trusts those who are standing on the high platform in suits and ties, and when he speaks of "Battleship Potemkin", it is boring. A stumbling.
In the process of watching the movie, my mood can be seen as a saxophone. Starting from a stable and appropriate expectation, slowly falling to the bottom, suddenly turning around when it was almost unbearable, then soaring all the way, and finally flattening, staying until the end of the whole movie, leaving with many Russian nobles.
At the beginning of the film, I must say that the photographer of this film is quite amateur, and sitting too close will make you feel seasick. As he moves, he pushes and pulls the focus, the characters and the background approach or move away from us at different speeds, as if someone squeezed our world like a can. His images are also very amateur, like vlogs taken by many bloggers. Actors in aristocratic costumes are also very unconvincing in the museum, their postures are artificial and difficult to convince the crowd. In addition, the continuous dialogue is sometimes jerky and difficult to understand, sometimes eloquent, and sometimes completely incomprehensible to the audience. In short, it has a hypnotic effect.
I pulled myself up from the chair. The man in front began to tidy up the hair on top of his head. The posture of his arm is very special, like the neck of a flamingo drinking water. He blocked my screen and even attracted my attention for a moment. At the time I didn't know that the magical turning point would come. It wasn't until the Russian family in front uttered the sound of conversation, which took my attention away from the flamingo again. I suddenly realized that the Russian language in my life is so unpleasant, and the endless dialogue in the movie is beautiful and philosophical music. At this time, on the screen, in the snow, Catherine II, supported by the attendant, led the camera to run.
I suddenly realized that the "invisible but very overbearing hand" in previous commercial blockbusters was gone. I need to deploy my attention to where I need it. It could be the skirts of those Russian nobles, it could be the look of disdain on the faces of European intellectuals, it could be the details of a famous painting in the museum, it could be the flamingo-shaped arm and the unpleasant conversation between a member of a Russian family.
Amateur is something worth pursuing. This movie is like a woolen coat hanging on the wall, through some hooks let us remember it in a whole way. Isn't this the real ideal of "one mirror to the end"? The entrance in the snow is the collar, the two runs of Catherine II and the fairies are the hooks on the left and right shoulders, and the grand exit through the stairs is its heavy hem. The uniqueness of director Sokolov is that his attitude towards "field" is so negative, but he trusts the meaning and expressive possibility of the "mirror" unit in the movie more. As early as in "Mother and Son", he clearly expressed this position, that is, using a combination of "mirrors" to complete a movie. However, on some occasions in that movie, Sokolov still inevitably used the shots, and the audience's outdated thinking still couldn't make them completely free from the hegemony of the "field".
So it can be said that "Russian Ark" is a real Sokolov movie. I think he even has the same meaning as Godard's works that have been promoted to the altar. The use of monologues and narrations is as complicated as Godard's film. And the cut and the long mirror will become the same thing at the extremes of each other.
Watching Sokolov's movies is always a kind of perceptual training. When I left the cinema, the people around me gave me a wonderful illusion. It seems that the whole world is talking about this movie. The arm can be not only like a flamingo, but also like a saxophone. It resists forgetting and allows us to sleep peacefully in such arms.
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