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 he Return" marks the debut of Andrei
Zvyaginstev, a Russian film maker who has already been compared by
many to his legendary countryman, Andrei Tarkovsky ("Solaris"). It
is easy to see why, as Zvyaginestv's award winning first film has
the measured, languid feel reminiscent of Tarkovky's "Stalker",
combining stunning visuals with a bare bones plot that belies its
true emotional and thematic complexity. Rich with symbolism and
meticulous design that, for the most part take the place of
dialogue, the film works both as a haunting, almost mythic piece of
art house cinema and as a gripping thriller which skilfully keeps
the viewer in suspense.
The plot follows two young boys, Andrei and
Ivan who live in a remote area of Russia with their mother. One day,
they return home to be greeted with news that their absentee father,
who they know only from an old photograph, is sleeping in the
bedroom. The next morning, the father takes the boys on a cross
country journey to a remote island in what seems to be a series of
tests of their manhood, as well as serving his own, unspoken
purpose. Tensions grow as Ivan, the younger of the two brothers,
refuse to accept that the silent, often violent man is really their
father, whilst Andrei is only too happy to follow unquestioningly.
Eventually, in the middle of the harsh wilderness, disaster strikes,
with devastating consequences.
The plot of "The Return" is, on the surface,
fairly simple. Zvyaginstev, who also co-wrote the script, makes it
plain that there is far more going on beyond the simple mystery of
the father's sudden appearance. The writer/director does this very
cleverly and without any kind of exposition or cheap revelations.
The viewer is given only cryptic visual hints as to the background
of the story and characters, though this fits in with the feel of
the film perfectly rather than seeming wilfully obscure. Despite
this, and its often dreamlike nature, the film has a clear sense of
its own logic and as such is wholly convincing and believable,
making it far more grounded and realistic than a simple allegory or
fable.
"The Return" is, for large stretches, free of
dialogue, and Zvyaginstev gradually fleshes out the characters
through their actions and subtle nuances. In the case of the two
boys, this is more obvious, since the film is clearly seen through
their eyes. The unnamed father, however, remains an enigmatic figure
throughout, and it is only towards the end that the viewer, like the
boys, is given glimpses of any kind of emotional vulnerability
beyond the father's authoritative manner.
This approach works well to generate tension as
to the father's motivations, as like the boys, the viewer is given
no obvious reason for either the father's absence or his return, and
can therefore only speculate along with the boys as to whether the
father is some kind of psychotic gangster, or indeed their father at
all. As the suspicions of the boys mount, spurred on by their
father's at times inexplicable and threatening behaviour, the viewer
is irresistibly drawn into their imaginative plotting, and through
this, the director explores both the fear of abandonment and the
raw, uncomfortable journey into adulthood in an astute,
sophisticated manner.
Perhaps the greatest proof of Zvyaginstev's
skill and achievement is that "The Return" is surprisingly moving
despite its initial apparent aloofness. The emotional impact of the
last part of the film is considerable, and is made all the more so
by its unexpectedness. This shows a talent and confidence all too
rare in modern cinema -- the ability to allow the viewer to become
gradually and quietly involved with the characters without resorting
to emotional clichés or the trashy tugging of heartstrings.
Visually, the film is
stunning, and Zvyaginstev employs a bleak, washed out look that
gives the wilderness an eerie, almost surreal feel. He shoots the
film in a calm, unhurried fashion, with long, lingering takes of the
landscape. As a result, the film is very atmospheric, and the viewer
truly feels transported to this cold region where nothing is
certain. For the vast majority of the film, there are only the three
main characters on screen, and as well as increasing the
uncomfortable sense of isolation, this gives the proceedings a
timeless, almost ancient feel.
This feeling pervades the whole film, and makes
"The Return" a captivating, fascinating experience. Filled with
powerful imagery and an understated yet profound psychological
depth, it serves not only to draw attention to the emergence of an
extremely talented director, but as a superior piece of cinema in
its own right.
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