ONE NICE THING about living in Tucson is that even though
we don't get a lot of foreign films, they sometimes come around
twice. If you missed Prisoner of the Mountains when it
first opened in the spring, you have a second chance to see this
Russian film, which was nominated for an Academy Award despite
the fact that it is moving, thoughtful and completely unsentimental.
Based on a story by Tolstoy, Prisoner of the Mountains
deals with sweeping themes of war, brotherhood and kinship by
concentrating on the small-scale interactions between friends
and enemies. Vania and Sacha, a pair of Russian soldiers, go to
the Caucasus to fight the mountain people, whom they dismissively
refer to as "non Russians." These indigenous people
have lived in the mountains for generations and appear to be a
sort of Eastern European version of the Amish. They live in a
primitive village on a mountaintop without running water or gas-powered
vehicles; the men wear black coats and hats that look sort of
like Shriner hats. They're fierce soldiers though, and they capture
the two Russian soldiers in an ambush, killing everyone else.
The mountain folk despise Russians, but as it turns out, the
patriarch of the village wants to make a trade. His son has been
captured by the Russians, and he wants to swap the two captives
for him. This film does a great job portraying the Russian army
as a boozy, inefficient bureaucracy that can barely keep track
of itself. The Russian commander, out of either apathy or inefficiency,
is totally unable to make the trade. "They never take prisoners,"
he says of the mountain people, and leaves it at that. The patriarch
makes the soldiers write their mothers so that they can
negotiate the trade. In Russia, apparently, mothers are more competent
than army commanders.
While we're waiting for the letters from the Russian soldiers
to reach their mothers (only Vania, the young and inexperienced
soldier, happens to have one), everyone starts bonding madly;
the captors bond with their prisoners, the prisoners fall in love
with their keepers. At first Sacha, the older, seasoned Russian
soldier, is cool to his young companion Vania, teasing that he's
either going to die or have his balls cut off. But after being
shackled together for a couple of weeks, the two are so close
they're practically in love. Out on a mountain slope, hauling
some stones for their captors, they stare into one another's eyes
with sultry intensity. Their captors are equally enthralled with
the two young men. Nothing much happens in their little town,
apparently, and these guys provide some welcome cultural diversity.
Vania, especially, charms the townspeople, fixing a watch for
his captor Abdoul and making toys for his serious and lovely adolescent
daughter.
But as the love-level rises, it becomes clear that something
a little less friendly is going to happen. "Would you come
back and kill them?" Sacha asks Vania, who admits that he
wouldn't. "I would kill them," Sacha says. "After
all, it's war."
This film takes its time developing both the relationships between
the characters and the relationship between the people and the
land. Shot after beautiful shot shows the villagers working in
the fields, carrying grain and water, as the mountains change
from blue to yellow to gray in the light. Tolstoy would have approved,
as he would have also approved of the meandering route the story
sometimes takes. There are scenes in Prisoner of the Mountains
that don't necessarily further the plot or help us know how
everything is going to turn out, but which nonetheless add depth
and color to the whole. One scene has a soldier entering a store
with nothing on the shelves but vodka. He asks for two bottles,
then starts to walk away. When the shopkeeper asks for his money,
he takes a pistol out of his pocket and gives it to him. It's
a great scene that gives us an idea of how dissolute the military
is, but it doesn't have much to do with the plot.
In this summer movie season, it's a relief to see a movie made
up of quiet moments that describe the tensions and connections
between people. Don't wait too long...this might be your last
chance.