Youth without Youth

If there is any conclusion to be drawn from Francis Ford Coppola’s Youth without Youth, it is that the acclaimed director has obviously lost the plot. It’s been a decade since his last helming effort (The Rainmaker), but now Coppola returns with a film that is more likely to remind audiences of recent David Lynch than of anything from Coppola’s filmmaking past. The premise is that Dominic, an aging Romanian linguist (Tim Roth), is hit by a strike of lightning in 1938, and consequently returned to physical youthfulness. Nazi scientists are intrigued by this rejuvenation and so plant a spy in his hotel, but in the meantime the lightning also appears to have produced an evil alter ego that Dominic can converse with through mirrors. In amongst this all, Dominic struggles to complete his great linguistic work, while encountering a love from his past who is also wrestling with her own problems; a past life as an Indian woman that continually resurfaces through violent trances.

This basic description might hint at some deeper connections or explanations, but these are never forthcoming. The plot simply moves into increasingly unexpected and incongruous twists or tangents without ever reaching any emotional or intellectual heights. Excessively verbose dialogue only serves to confuse rather than clarify, in a classic display of empty pretentiousness. Tim Roth puts in a fine effort, but clearly struggles to develop an appealing or interesting character from this lacklustre script. What’s more, although this film marks Coppola’s return to the low-budget filmmaking form he used to so revere, the director seems to misuse the accompanying artistic freedom for the sake of it. The already-complicated storyline is only further cluttered by with unnecessary upside-down shots, extreme close-ups, jolted pans and surreal visual devices. The simplistic set design (with Romanian landscapes standing in for Switzerland, Malta and India) is disappointingly at odds with the madcap storyline. Essentially, Coppola has produced an extremely self-conscious, stilted and uninspiring work that will let down fans and newcomers alike.

Russian Resurrection Film Festival Reviews

This year’s Russian Resurrection Film Festival is as topical as ever, delivering a showcase of new Russian cinema that is dominated by social and political commentary on the country’s past and present. A highlight includes Karen Shakhnazarov’s most personal film to date, Vanished Empire. Essentially, this film revolves around a dramatic love triangle between three Moscow university students, but the historical period within which these students live shapes much of their character development. Set in the early 1970s, during the peak of Soviet power, Vanished Empire is a nostalgic return to an exciting adolescent past, and to the calm before USSR’s deterioration. This film succinctly captures the challenges that were already influencing everyday life (when Pink Floyd records and label jeans were available only through the dodgy black market), while also weaving in a growing sense of foreboding. It is easily one of the festival’s most watchable offerings, with a touching central storyline and some very relatable characters.

Captive is more explicitly political. From director Alexei Utichel (whose films Dreaming of Space and The Stroll have been featured in past Russian festivals), Captive exposes the folly of the recent Chechen war by portraying meaningless violence, death and destruction from all sides. While some knowledge of the conflict is probably desirable for a more worthwhile viewing experience, it is easy enough to follow the film’s central narrative. A group of Russian soldiers has been isolated in unfamiliar Chechen territory, and two of their number, a responsible commander and an impetuous snipper, have been left with the responsibility of locating a local guide to facilitate their escape. They seize a Chechen boy, but, in the process of drawing him back from the village to their troupe, an interesting rapport develops between the three, with some unexpected consequences. This film makes emotional involvement very difficult, with plenty of dislocated dialogue and long, meandering scenes of silence, so you’ll need to be in the right state of mind. Its conclusion is extremely powerful, though, and its message very important. At just over an hour, Captive presents but a small slice of the tragedy that that has plagued that area in recent time.

The (post-)courtroom drama, 12, also touches upon the Chechen conflict, by exploring its impact upon racial attitudes in contemporary Russia. From director Nikita Mikhalkov (who received an Oscar nomination for Burnt by the Sun), 12 is a distinctly Russian adaptation of Sydney Lumet’s 12 Angry Men. Based around a similar premise, it begins just after courtroom proceedings, as a group of 12 middle-aged male jurors are left alone to reach a unanimous conclusion. Unlike the original, however, where the accused is of African American descent, the accused is now Chechen, and therefore inspires similarly racist sentiments from some of the men. Only one of them is brave enough to speak out in the boy’s defence, but in doing so he provokes the other 11 jurors to think in more depth about the case. As they look further into the intricacies of the accusation, the men also reveal more about themselves and their personal pasts; each of them has in some way been touched by Russia’s tumultuous history. Intriguing up to its finish, 12 ideally captures the pervasive nature of the past. With some fascinating revelations and some solid performances, this film is a real festival highlight.