Reporting for
Talking Pictures on the 2007 London Film Festival, I was completely
bowled over by The Banishment, describing it as “the film of the
century so far”, surpassing the same director’s hugely impressive The
Return (2003). However, the critical consensus of The Banishment is
that, while stunningly beautiful and excellently acted, it is
unoriginal and narratively confused. In fact, reading the reviews at
the time of its belated UK release, it almost seemed as if the
reviewers had for some reason clubbed together to ensure that none of
them went out on a limb to give it too much praise. There was an
excess, we were told, of characters gazing wordlessly into the
distance, like a parody of an Antonioni movie; there was too much
heavy-handed symbolism; too much music by cult composer Arvo Part; the
characterisation was psychologically implausible; above all, the film
fell well short of the achievement of The Return. Nearly all the
reviewers seemed to have identical opinions.
So I was anxious to see whether a second viewing of this intense family
drama would confirm my initial response, and the answer was an emphatic
“yes“. Again, the 160 minutes, which seemed more like 60, were utterly
gripping throughout, though concentration is required. Yes, there are
scenes where characters gaze wordlessly into the distance, but far less
than the reviewers imply, and it is wholly in keeping with the
characters’ predicament. Some reviewers complained, for example, about
an early scene on a train where husband and wife sit opposite one
another not saying a word; it is perfectly obvious that it is because
they are very tired, even asleep!
Having got that off my chest, you will want to know what this
outstanding film is about. It is based on a little-known story by the
American writer William Saroyan, and is set in a vaguely East European
environment (filmed, we are told, in Moldova and Belgium). There are
two brothers, Alex and Mark, with unspecified criminal connections.
Alex, played by the superb Konstantin Lavronenko (the gloomy father
from The Return), takes his wife Vera and their two young children to
stay at his late father’s house in the country. Alex and Vera are
strangely uncommunicative, until Vera drops a bombshell which causes
Alex to call in Mark to help him. This leads to a tragic turn of
events, with an extended flashback near the end which simultaneously
helps to explain things and confounds our previous assumptions. It is
this flashback, which on first viewing I completely misunderstood,
which some reviewers thought was clumsily handled; I would prefer to
say that it is introduced in too original and subtle a manner. The
Banishment is a film that, like Hitchcock’s Vertigo, you have to see a
second time in order to concentrate on a particular character, and
particularly on the dialogue.
Zviagintsev has, to my mind, established himself as a hugely visionary
director, whose debt to Tarkovsky is obvious. He is in a long line of
supreme Russian directors of children (see, for example, Tarkovsky’s
Ivan’s Childhood, Klimov’s Come And See, and Kravchuk’s recent debut
feature The Italian). He is a master at creating an ominous,
portentous, threatening mood (and this is where Arvo Part’s music
helps).
If The Banishment had been Zviagintsev’s first feature, I suspect that
the reviewers of our daily and Sunday newspapers would have hailed it
as an out-and-out masterpiece. But they seem afraid of heaping too much
praise on the second film of a “difficult” director whose first was
such a critical triumph; they prefer the safety of a Batman or Harry
Potter movie, entertaining but otherwise pointless.
Is The Banishment “the film of the century so far”, as was my original
reaction? Probably not, especially as the last few months have seen the
release of two indisputable masterpieces, Anderson’s There Will Be
Blood and Reygadas’ Silent Light. But it is at least the equal of The
Return, and I wish the reviewers would give it another try.