In the comic fantasy "Rabbit Over the Void," the bushy-eyebrowed Soviet leader gets unexpectedly caught up in the colorful intrigues of Gypsy life.
By Tom Birchenough Published: February 17, 2006
With its combination of gentle Soviet retro and the vivid colors of a Gypsy world, Tigran Keosayan's fantasy "Rabbit Over the Void" might seem like something of an odd mix. Though it's not likely to score that highly with critics -- and reaction from audiences more accustomed to action may be muted -- it's the most thoughtful film that Keosayan, who has built himself a reputation as a music video and comedy director over the last decade, has made to date.
Gentle summer colors dominate the film's visual style, very well captured throughout by cinematographer Igor Klebanov and designer Nikolai Terekhov. Recreating Soviet-era environments has long been a challenge, given the extent of visual changes in the last 10 years, but Terekhov pulls it off well with the opening scenes, set in and around Party headquarters in Kishinev, before the action moves out into the open air.
There's an atmosphere of sunny indolence as official drivers lounge next to their Volgas on the street while two local Party bosses (played by Yury Stoyanov of the television show "Gorodok" and Vladimir Ilin) agonize about how they are going to cope with the upcoming challenge of a visit to Moldavia from none other than General Secretary Leonid Brezhnev (played by Ukrainian actor Bogdan Stupka, who has been justifiably prominent on Russian screens in the last couple of years with roles in "Our Own" and "A Driver for Vera").
Fortunately, one of them, a past war comrade of Brezhnev's, has a pretty shrewd idea of what appeals to the leader, which he describes as "an encyclopedia of Soviet relaxation" -- namely, the circus, folk dances and hockey. Cue to scenes of Brezhnev inspecting various facilities, from ranks of attentive waitresses to an incompetent hockey team falling over on an artificial ice rink (the republic has no ice hockey team, so its footballers have been roped in to to improvise). There's also a hot air balloon into the bargain, which precipitates one of the film's plot developments.
Contrasting with the artificial etiquette and complications of the Communist Party hierarchy, the film's other world is centered on a local Gypsy baron (Sergei Gazarov) who runs his own fiefdom, one that is apparently centered on various forms of production for the local black market, and headquartered in his lavish country compound. The baron's main preoccupation is the likely marriage of his daughter Anna (Valeria Zaitseva) to a far-from-desirable son-in-law, Lautar (Vartan Darakchyan, like Zaitseva in a screen debut).
As the two worlds begin to interact, Keosayan's fantasy -- and that of screenwriter Dmitry Ivanov -- kicks in. Brezhnev arrives in a melancholy mood, and the elaborate reception accorded to him doesn't seem to change much, especially when his limousine is hijacked by Gypsy musicians (so that Lautar has something to offer his father-in-law). And when the gensek inadvertently takes off into the sky, he descends into Lautar's Gypsy world, ending up as his svyat, or endorser of the young man's marriage proposal, to the baron. Comedy stems from the fact that both Brezhnev and the baron are figures who confidently control their respective worlds. Still far from satisfied with his prospective son-in-law, the baron is persuaded by subtle hints from the gensek that Siberia could just prove an unexpected new home for his Gypsy contingent.
Comedy with a tinge of melancholy develops nicely as officials hunt frantically for their lost leader, while Brezhnev himself relishes the freedom of this new world, as well as his release from the demands of his old one. It turns out that he has his own unrealized romantic dream as well, a love for no less a character than the Queen of England (Yelena Safonova), who is spirited away through Gypsy cunning for an all-too-brief moment of happiness.
That achievement of a moment's freedom -- one bound to end, given that Keosayan knows his short-lived fantasy obviously can't exist in any real world for long -- captures the film's lyrical closing mood. Enjoy it while it lasts, the director seems to be saying, and give in to the enticements of Gypsy life, with its humor, color and rhythms (helped by a score from composer Alexei Rybnikov). The film's title is explained late in the proceedings: a rabbit driven to the edge of a precipice will laugh first before it jumps to its inevitable destruction.
"Rabbit Over the Void" (Zayats Nad Bezdnoi) is playing in Russian at theaters citywide.
http://context.themoscowtimes.com/stories/2006/02/17/110.html
Nu, zayats, pogodi!
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