04.01.1996

Humanity denied

Danny Hammill reviews 'Burnt by the Sun' (directed by Nikita Mikalkov, 1994, Russia) and La Haine (directed by Mathieu Kassovitz, 1995, France)

FORGET Hollywood, action movies, mega-blockbusters and tiresome sequels. This is the real stuff. Refreshingly, both of these movies remind us that film-making is an art form, not just a technical, special effects-driven artifice.

Stalinite Russia is the setting for Burnt by the Sun. A hot summer’s day at a dacha in 1936 provides the location. Right from the beginning, an air of menace hangs over the idyllic family setting. 

The main character, Kotov, is a hero of the October Revolution and the Civil War. A scene early in the film establishes the fact that Kotov has gained a near legendary status and is a man not to be messed with. To Hollywood-trained audiences it might appear that Kotov is going to be the indestructible super-hero, so beloved of mainstream movies.

Not so. We gradually realise that Kotov’s cosy little world is an illusion, and is going to descend into a nightmare. This is signalled by the unheralded arrival of Dimitri, an agent for the secret police, the NKVD. Almost inevitably, Kotov is to be arrested as a “counterrevolutionary” and “German spy”. The surreal nature of the accusation is reinforced when the camera lingers on a photograph of Kotov sitting happily next to his dear comrade JV Stalin, and by the fact that Dimitri fought on the side of the Whites during the Civil War.

During Burnt by the Sun we are painfully aware that Kotov remains totally loyal to the ideals of the October Revolution - and to JV Stalin. Even when he is being driven away to Moscow by NKVD thugs, to certain execution, he still believes that his personal ‘friendship’ with Stalin will avert his fate. Pathetically he tries to impress his NKVD captors by quoting Stalin’s personal telephone number. In the spirit of communist fraternity he is beaten to a pulp, in a violent scene which genuinely shocks the viewer. This is a universe away from the casual, ‘cartoon’ violence of The Terminator - or the ‘ironic’ blood and gore of a Quentin Tarantino film.

This film cannot be recommended highly enough. Like many Russian films it manages to seamlessly fuse together intense naturalism/realism with almost magical fantasy. Humour and horror co-exist, without ever being heavy-handed or awkward. The theme of betrayal pervades Burnt by the Sun. Dimitri finally commits suicide, almost all of Kotov’s family is murdered and we are left sickened by the barbarous inhumanity of the terroristic Stalinite bureaucracy, as it literally slaughters the October Revolution.

La Haine (Hate) is a tense, shocking, fast moving picture. On the surface it may seem the exact opposite to Burnt by the Sun - with its in-your-face ultra-realism, stark black and white photography and jerky camera shots. However, the action all takes place within 24 hours - like Burnt by the Sun - and the viewer experiences the same feeling of dread, waiting for something bad to happen. The central difference is that in Burnt by the Sun we see the brutal destruction of an illusion, while in La Haine we see people living lives devoid of any hope or optimism whatsoever.

The three principle characters in La Haine are at the bottom of the pile, trapped in hellish urban estates known as ‘projects’. Vinz, a Jewish skinhead, Hubert, a black, and Said, an Arab, are condemned to a poverty-stricken existence. They suffer constant victimisation at the hands of the vicious, racist police. Unsurprisingly, given the social reality which envelopes them, they are prone to violent fantasies and a burning desire to ‘hit out’.

When one of their friends, an Arab boy, is shot by the police, their desire for revenge magnifies. In the case of Vinz, this desire becomes obsessive and ultimately self-destructive. When Vinz finds a police revolver, the countdown begins. For Vinz, Hubert and Said there is no escape route.

It would be a mistake to label La Haine a purely nihilistic film. While the overall content is politically bleak, there are many funny moments - mainly in the snappy, vulgar dialogue - and we develop a genuine affection for the characters. The film lays the blame on the system which manufactures the conditions that Vinz, Hubert and Said have to endure. The same lesson applies to Burnt by the Sun: human beings stifled by an inhuman world.

Danny Hammill