For the second week, the film "Autumn Marathon" by George Danelia has not come out of my head, and not even so much the film as individual fragments — Basilashvili's hunched back while jogging, his frightened eyes when his wife caught him hiding a new pure cotton jacket in the piano, but most of all this exchange at the beginning:
"It's for me."
"I told him that."
These remarks by Buzykin and his wife are addressed to Professor Hansen from Denmark, a naive foreigner whose poor knowledge of the Russian language saves him from realizing the horror of Soviet life.
Actually, this linguistic detachment of Professor Hansen is used in the film as a kind of valve for releasing steam — the professor appears in dramatic episodes when the interaction of the characters can reach an outright confrontation, however, due to Hansen's inhibition, due to his constant questioning and even because of his physical presence, conflicts do not reach the stage maximum aggravation.
And, conversely, where Hansen is not present, disgusting details of Soviet life come to the surface (such as scenes at the publishing house and the institute, where Buzykin is humiliated in every possible way by careerists and reinsurers) and all the insignificance of interpersonal relationships (episodes with his wife, lover and colleague translator).
The conclusion here is that Soviet (or post-Soviet) people should not be left alone with them, because they will definitely do something, say unnecessary words and do unnecessary things.
The presence of a third, definite conditional West is a necessary component not only of the cinematic, but of any other process in the space known to all of us.
It also seems to me that the scenic and visual components of the "Autumn Marathon" laid down a kind of universal cinematic construction that worked then and still works today.
For all the stories about male insolvency after a certain age were created according to a similar pattern in late Soviet cinema ("Flights in dreams and waking"), and modern Ukrainian ("The Usual thing", and before that — "The Seventh Route"), and in modern Russian ("Simple things", "With that's what's happening to me"), cinematography.
There is an era of pathetic men running from their wives, mistresses, and troubles at work, just as work itself, rather than, say, farming on their own land or some kind of victory, remains unchanged.
Both the motive of escape or a certain wandering in some indefinite, fog-shrouded space, and this fog-shrouded space itself remain not only relevant, but also firmly rooted in consciousness, the unconscious, and genetics. Партнерские программы в iGaming