Tramuzgan recommends 12 russian films

I've been wanting to make a list like this for a long while, but I wanted to have a strong enough base of films watched. So I've seen all the real famous stuff, as well as enough of the obscure stuff to (somewhat) know what I'm talking about. That being said, this is more of a personal recommendations list, not the be-all-end-all of ruskie cinema, because it won't include films that may be good but aren't for me (like Irony of Fate). It's not my place to talk about these.

The list also won't be in any order. I recommend them all equally, unless noted otherwise. I saw no point in ranking them numerically. They will also be listed in separate posts, for the sake of legibility.


A time-travelling accident leads to an idiot trading places with Ivan the Terrible

A comedy by Leonid Gaidai, one of Russia's most popular directors. His run from the 60's and 70's are considered classics nowadays, and his distinct style and timing has influenced a lot of modern ruskie visual humour (Little Big, Red Medusa cartoons...). While you can't go wrong with any of them, Ivan Vasiliyevich Changes Professions is my pick of the bunch. It's the ''just right'' one. Like Blizzard has Brood War and Pink Floyd has The Wall, Gaidai has this.

I've heard people compare it to Mel Brooks, which isn't too off since their timing is similar, but Gaidai is distinct in the fact that his comedies don't really have a ''target''. They're light-hearted. Not trying to be emotional or satirize anything. Just lolz for the sake of lolz, carried by a smoothly unfolding story, always with perfect delivery. The setups are nicely weaved into the story, you don't see the punchlines coming, the jokes are nicely varied, with physical humour, verbal humour, fish-out-of-water jokes, fourth-wall breaks, absurdism, ''it's funny because it's true'' jokes, etc., basically whatever type of joke the situation calls for. It's all the basics of comedy done perfectly.

My second favourite of his would be ''Operation Y and Shurik's other adventures'', a collection of 3 half-hour short films.

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I'm the Yugoslav cinema guy. I dig through garbage. I look for gems.

An estranged father returns to spend some time with his two sons.

2003's The Return is a great example of well-handled angst. Driven by the unresolved tensions between the brothers and their father unfolding along a linear trip, it sets an unpleasant, but honest and human tone. Basically, whatever you'd expect The Return to mess up, it doesn't mess up. It's written with enough emotional maturity for all 3 characters to remain psychologically convincing, the actors are all fully convincing (even the kids, despite these roles being something even most adults can't get down), the visual style is tastefully cold reflecting the tone of the story, and the story works both with and without the metaphor for our relationship and miscommunication with God (something it's not at all subtle about). All this, and it still seems like a honest, personal story, like it's something the director was dying to get out. Him opening his heart to the audience.

It's a great drama regardless, but seeing it walk the edge for 2 hours, waiting for it to mess up and it never happening, adds an extra fascinating layer to it. Just goes to show, don't be scared of aspects of yourself that are red flags. Just know how to handle them. Self-mastery, not self-denial. Something I find very inspiring as a hobbyist writer (won't be the last time you hear this).

Andrei Zvyagintsev, the director, recieved endless acclaim for this debut film. The inexperience shows in places, but the overall quality of the film painted him as a bright hope for the future. Sadly, the praise went to his head and he only got worse as he aged, making nothing but oscar bait. Inflated egos are the death of art.

I'm a huge fan of The Return.

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Not a fan of Gaidai. Zvyagintsev, on the other hand, I like.

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Look, I'm not judging you - after all, I'm posting here myself, but maybe, just maybe, if you spent less time here and more time watching films, maybe, and I stress, maybe your taste would be of some value. Just a thought, ya know.

I liked The Return, and wrote this about it in the Russian language HoF

I watched Ivan Vasilievich Changes Profession for the Foreign Language Countdown based on your recommendation, and I thought it was a lot of fun. I think it even made my Top 25 list.

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If I answer a game thread correctly, just skip my turn and continue with the game.
OPEN FLOOR.

Strongly disagree with this. 'The Banishment' is absolutey excellent. And is in no way, shape or form 'oscar bait'. Leviathan and Elena are also extremely good.

The eponymous prince rallies a defense against the invading Teutonic knights.

The first sound movie by the revered Sergei Eisenstein, released in 1937 as preparation for war against uncle Adolf, is something every fan of historical or fantasy epics should watch. While Battleship Potemkin is usually considered Eisenstein's (and Russia's as a whole) most important and influental film, Nevskiy is both his most enjoyable one on its own, and pretty influential in its own right. Its DNA can be seen in basically any film with a sword, from Conan the Barbarian to Star Wars. Fans of this type of film (like me) will find it cool to see all these common tropes at their purest and most basic.

As for what these things are, it all stems from Eisenstein's distinct high-strung style, leading to a film that's very visually considered, always eloquently communicating ideas like authority, defeat, pre-battle tension, or group behaviour, in ways that'd give others ideas for decades to come. Every shot is made with attention to detail, every figure is placed where it is for a reason. The montages are likewise airtight, and bring across what they want without taking a second too long. Sergei Prokofiev's score is the best one they could've asked for. As elegant and dramatic as the visuals.

Overall, like Eisenstein's other films, this is one that you can't watch slouching, it makes you jut up like a merkat. It's just the one that does it the best. And, from the perspective of a hobbyist writer, a show of how far you can get with a simple idea when you set your mind to it.

The life and development of an orthodox icon painter.


A writer and a physicist smuggle themselves into a zone where the laws of physics no longer apply.

Andrei Tarkovsky is a director I was inevitably gonna have to get into if I was gonna make this list. I didn't make a conscious rule not to repeat directors here, but you'll notice he's the only one who appears twice, but that's because all the others have one film which feels like their ultimate statement. With Tarkovsky it's two. It's kind of a Fritz the Cat-Nine Lives of Fritz the Cat situation, you gotta see both to appreciate either. You may wanna see The Mirror too for that reason, not sure if it's necessary.

What links the two together is the theme of aesthetic philosophy, the machinations of both art and science, the role faith plays in the two, as well as hope and despair, naiveté and experience, theory and practice, familiarity and unfamiliarity, wonderment and certain knowledge, does it have a purpouse or does it exist for its own sake... you will get the most out of these films if those topics interest you. And they do interest me, I was all for listening to what he had to say. It's like having a conversation in a bar with one of those one-in-a-million people who are on the same page as you. I'm always happy to hear someone who understands the basics better than I do, and can elaborate into better points because of that.

The difference is that Andrei Rublev is more of a straightforward story. Yes, the protagonist is more of a background observer within his own film, but there is a definite hero's journey, a character arc that has meaning, even if it is achieved through mostly observation. Stalker is not meant to be taken as literally. The metaphors are made obvious through the many interesting conversations the characters have, and the slow-paced directing is there to make sure you're emotionally on the same page as the director. Consider Stalker's beautiful long shots and abandoned, retaken-by-nature setting as another selling point. Made me feel like a snug cat.

These two films are very idiosyncratic, and very clear about what they are. That means they won't be for everyone, and there's nothing wrong with that. I'd never judge someone for seeing Stalker and not resonating with it. But I'll always be for an artist just getting out what he's got to get out, no apprehensions. Some of my favourite creative types are those that wear their hearts on their sleeves. I enjoy Andrei Tarkovsky in the same way I enjoy Robert A. Heinlein, or Eric W. Schwartz. Those guys where the presence of the author is felt stronger than the presence of the characters or setting.

A young russian soldier and british stage actor are sent to find ransom money for the latter's wife, held hostage by a Chechen warlord.

This is my favourite russian movie. Made by the Aleksei Balabanov, one of the first auteurs to gain traction in post-Soviet Russia, whose gritty style and individualist stories struck a great chord with people at the time. He's one of those artists who's not at all shy about his political stances. His films are filled with them, top to bottom, but much in the vein of Alain Ayroles or Jay Naylor, he pulls it off with grace, his stories being built from the same set of values that inspired his stances, rather than just cheering for team A over team B, hoping you'll like it if it agrees with you enough.

What values? They can be best summarized as ''fight back''. Voyna (that's how I call it) depicts a situation where, after all establishments fail you, all the easy solutions turn out to be duds, your options dwindle, and you're left cornered, you gotta take matters into your own hands. Individual agency is everything. Free will. Acceptance of risk, consequence, and responsibility. Even when the problem seems way out of your depth, better to lose than to surrender, right? It effectively evokes the feeling of being thoroughly screwed, and weaves an inspiring story of a man in such a position doing what's right.

Balabanov's breakout hit, Brother, gets that down too. Voyna edges it out because of a more focused story, and some truly inspired directing. Mixing in documentary-style interview footage and in-universe headcam recordings, I frequently forgot that what I'm seeing is fiction. Not even the extremely camp villain and occasional hammy dialogue threw me off.

If it's not obvious, this is a film that really inspired me, and it may inspire you just as well. If a storyteller's duty is to share with you an experience that leaves you different to how it finds you, then it's mission accomplished for Aleksei Balabanov.

A seminary student must spend 3 nights praying for the soul of a girl, that only he knows is a witch.

Viy is my second favourite russian movie. It's often noted for being one of the few horror films made in the Soviet Union, but I think that's misleading. I call it fantasy first, and horror second, because its main selling point isn't that it's scary. It's that it tells a good story, and one that couldn't be told without all these fantasy elements.

It's adapted from a novella by Nikolai Gogol, which itself claiming to be a retelling of an old folk tale, and I didn't doubt that claim for a second. It has a quality similar to the 1981 british film Excalibur, that it eschews the hollywood style of storytelling and visual realism, to convey the sense that what you're seeing is centuries old. Something you didn't create, but rather, something that created you. It makes sense a film like that would use a more dreamlike, theatrical style. It makes it feel more untouchable. Like you're experiencing it through the intermediary of narration, not that you're seeing it directly, literally, physically occur in front of you. It sacrifices immersion for a sense of reverence. Again, just like Excalibur.

The thing with old wives' tales (or, of Gogol was lying, damn good imitations of old wives' tales) is that they speak to a base and oft-unacknowledged part of us. They wouldn't have survived for so long otherwise. What you get out of Viy will depend on you almost as much as it. Personally, I took it as a story of id vs superego, pathos vs logos, the irrational vs the rational, energy vs structure... but that's just me. Some will care about this aspect more than others.

See Viy if you're in the mood for some good old unfiltered unga bunga. Or if you're a writer, to see how to go about this kind of thing gracefully. All art has some unga bunga in it, and when you're the creative type, you see something like this as, how they say, touching grass.

The development of a small siberian village throughout the 20th century

Siberiade, otherwise known as The Siberian Saga, is a 4-hour film encompassing 80 years, 3 generations, and the many major events in russian history that those 80 years encompass, including the October revolution, World War 2, and the aggressive industrialization of the late 20th century, which shook up the hitherto simple and traditional lives of the villages. What this film does right, that's absolutely essential to any film about the sweep of history, is that it understands how we're swept up in it, but it also understands how we contribute to it. Even when we don't know what we're doing, even when the plans change wildly from generation to generation, even when our own individual contribution is just a drop in the ocean, the fact remains that the ''sweep of history'' is a fruit of human effort, and human free will. It's this core understanding that ensures Siberiade to be a great film, the rest is just a matter of ''how''.

The story itself is rather meandering, but then again, so is history. It doesn't act with an exact plan. But it manages to wrap itself up, becoming a complete story, even with that. The final sequence, with the characters finally finding oil in the village area, Artemiev's music euphorically swelling, may seem like over-emotional if seen out of context. But in context, it makes perfect sense. This is what it's all been leading up to. You see young men going to war. You see ideologies changing at such a fast pace, that parents and children can barely see eye-to-eye. You see centuries-old simple lifestyles disappearing. You see the loss of superstition, of rural mysticism, and what did we get in return? This. Was it worth it? Is this what we always wanted? Did we plan for it? Would we rather have something else? Do we want our old lives back? Who knows. But you're only human, and after all this effort, of course you're gonna be proud. This is the fruit of your labour.

Of course, it's also a very beautifully shot film, tastefully directed and interspersed with montages depicting what's happening on the front lines of history, and the score by Eduard Artemiev, one of Russia's best and most inventive composers, is neither overused or underused.

It's well-worth the long runtime.

I've seen Stalker and Viy. Writing up the others to add them to my watchlist.

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The lives of the Russian nobility during the Napoleonic wars

Behold, the mother of all vanity projects.

Conceived in the 1960s, when the big thing in hollywood were historical epics, the Soviet Union felt it must one-up it in scale, quality, and patriotic appeal all in one swing. So adapting a long war novel, depicting a proud moment in ruskie history, whose very existence allows for a lowkey patriotic brag, was the most obvious choice.

What you get is an abridged version of the book, cutting out some of the nuances and being mostly about the huge responsibility being a noble leaves you with. It's a good story, even though you often get the feeling that you're not getting the full thing. What makes War and Peace so great is the directing. Eloquent and visually inventive, and accentuated by the incredible scale. Tens of thousands of extras, all with real horses, real uniforms, weapons whose fire leaves real smoke, explosions that cover them with real mud, real scorched grass on real pastures. Party scenes where they get a real bear drunk and break real windows. Even at the time, it was incredible that something like this was made (normally they'd just use camera tricks to fake a scale this grand), and today, there's no way you'd ever see something like this without CG. Even when it's something that couldn't be done for real, like the shot of Moscow being rebuilt, I didn't doubt it for a second.

Interesting camera tricks happen back to back, especially in battle scenes. The director went wild. You'll see shots tracking a line of cannons as they fire one after the other. You'll see the POV of a falling cannonball. You'll see a man falling off his horse as it runs in panic, things flying out of control. You'll see hundreds of horses running in a circle from a bird's eye view. You'll see Napoleon ruminating over a battlefield where he just won, illuminated by the sun from the back, as if he's the final boss of real life. The fact that this keeps going for 7 hours without ever going stale is what's truly impressive.

I also can't ignore the choice of actors, which is perfect across the board. Everyone looks how he or she acts. When someone is supposed to be the exemplary brave noble, or the well-intentioned dork with much to learn, or the bright and innocent young lady, you know immediately.

War and Peace is what happens when big money is spent wisely. They commissioned the best of the best. They may be communists, but they're not idiots; they knew that they could only pull something like this once. And if you want proof of that, feel free to see Yugoslavia's attempt at the same thing, called Battle at Neretva, which is like a fat plumber showing up to a bodybuilding competition. You laugh, and then you realize that it's not a joke.

A young boy joins the Red Army at the German invasion of Belarus.

Let me step out of my area of expertise and say: this is a film every aspiring director should look into. Because other than being a notoriously hardcore anti-war movie, it is also a good showcase of what the medium is capable of.

The story, inspired by director Elem Klimov's own memories of the siege of Stalingrad, is that of a child conscript for whom things just keep going from bad to worse. Starvation, massacre, humiliation, fear, savagery, he sees it all. There's no rock bottom. It rings true, and feels natural instead of forced, coming from a director who's been through similar events (anecdotes say he's had to tone it down, so to not give the veterans on his crew PTSD attacks. Klimov must've been a very tough man.). The sheer directness of the story is half of the selling point. The other half is how it's told.

It takes a subjective (some call it ''impressionist'') stance, where everything we see is spiced up with the protagonist's interpretation thereof. That may entail some exaggerated facial expressions, pent-up audio mixing, anxious-looking montages, or giddy wide shots. Most notably, when there's something really bad going on, like a group of civilians being massacred, the camera dwells on it for a long time, as if to say there's no escape. It also does the same thing to human faces, where the camera is so close up, there's no room in the frame for anything else. You're made to drink in all the emotion, including the awkward pauses, including the obvious denial of reality. All the humanity - with all its glaring flaws - that swims up in a crisis like this. The acting is flawless across the board. Many have noted how the protagonist looks physically aged by the end. It just takes whatever chance it can to communicate its very blunt message. Whatever chance the medium offers.

You ever feel like, when you see (read, listen to...) something like this, the director's good quaities rub off on you?

The life of Genghis Khan, from early childhood up to the foundation of his empire.

This is an easy sell. I talked about films like Conan the Barbarian, and if you like that type of film, you'll like this. Simple as.

It's not just films. It's that kind of media in general. Comics like Dragonero too. Good visuals, good heroes, not written by children, not pretentious. All the classic stuff. I feel like the last time that kind of media has been standard were the 1970s, and since then both the EQ and the testosterone in pop culture has been getting lower and lower, with there being the odd refuge like italian comics (french too, but those are their own animal). The niche nerd stuff is even worse in some ways. The reason I like Mongol is because it feels like something we'd get if that had never happened. A peek into a parallel timeline where steven spielberg never got famous, and Fred Patten never invited japan into western pop culture.

Is it a perfect movie? No, it's rough around the edges, but it succeeds at what counts. A good character arc, an inspiring hero, a perfectly respectable script, wonderful atmosphere of the mongolian plains, mostly practical effects.

You could debate as to whether this counts as a ''russian movie'', since it's a collab with Kazahstan, Mongolia, and China, but I've got the chance to include it, so I will.

A group of russians and a finn go on a traditional russian hunting trip.

This is a weird one. Show this to any normal person and they'll see a simple, lax ensemble comedy. One that's funny, and has great, wholesome character chemistry, but what put it above so many other ruskie films for me is something that wouldn't work for everyone.

As the title and story pitch imply, it's a comedy about russian traditions, grounded by the presence of a foreigner. It's nationally self-conscious. It's a ruskie reflecting on being a ruskie, and all that that entails. The intermezzos of the same hunt being done in the past, the misunderstandings the hosts have with the tourist, the reflections on the contradictions between what the hunt is vs what the hunt is expected to be. The tone is neither whingy cultural cringe or sappy patriotism, but rather, a sort of accepting, self-aware affection. I believe it's that that earned it its cult classic status. I base that assumption on the fact that we've had something like that here in Dalmatia, called A Wonderful Night in Split, and it's one of my favourite films for exactly that reason. Besides, seeing something like this from Russia is a treat for people like me, who just find the country interesting.

It has a sequel named ''Peculiarities of the National Fishing'', which I expected to be another Fritz the Cat situation, but it didn't do it for me. It's a good comedy, but doesn't complement the first film like I thought it would. Eh, maybe some day.

I remember enjoying Mongol quite a bit, but I haven't seen it in a looong time. I do remember that it was supposed to be like a series, but the sequel never came.