Balabanov’s Brother offered a response to the stagnation of the Russian film industry in the 1990s, through the invigorating of a past cultural tradition; the Russian hero.
The advent of Glasnost brought with it a climate where, for the first time, a discussion could be had on topics which were previously considered taboo or vulgar. The result was ‘Chernukha’, an eruption in culture which entertained the ugly and dark aspects of Soviet life. Yet in the nineties, a decade of crisis in both the Russian film industry and the social-political sphere, it seemed that the public were no longer entertained by what had become an obsession with negative elements. It’s said that the average Russian bought less than one film ticket a year in the 90s. One factor contributing to this slump was a saturation of Chernukha-based films, which simply failed to engage audiences. It became apparent to filmmakers that the public no longer wanted a discourse on violence, drugs and prostitution to the same extent as in the past. In order attract audiences they had to return to the tradition of the Russian hero, although not in the propagandising Soviet sense. They were calling for a ‘hero of our time’.
Is it a bird? Is it a plane? No it’s a contract killer…
Although an emblem of violence in his capacity for killing people, Danila emerges as a killer with a conscience. Society seems to engineer Danila toward a life of killing, yet it is the way he goes about his business which establishes him as a hero. Danila comes across as good-hearted and likeable, he defends Hoffman from racketeers and helps a tram conductor collect a fine from two individuals refusing to show their tickets. Moreover, Danila seems to be motivated not by corruption but by a desire to do what is right. He promises to always keep his word, a claim which is substantiated through his protection of the innocent director who accidentally stumbles into the gangsters’ world. This moral code, perhaps instilled from his experience as a soldier, is guided by respect for individuals he considers his ‘brothers’.
A Dark Knight.
It is important to note, however, that Danila is not a hero in the most virtuous sense of the word, he kills with such finesse it may as well be a sport. It is the transitional world of Russian cinema, with its heavy reliance on Chernukha which demands a hero of this sort. This ‘dark knight’, who thrives within the lawless state, is the only hero capable of dragging the St Petersburg of Brother to redemption and with it, the wider Russian film industry.
Although, as we accept the dark sides of Danila’s character as necessary, we must also question whether this actually excludes him from being a hero in the truest sense of the word. He displays nationalistic tendencies and although securing a fine for passengers refusing to buy a ticket, cannot help but comment on their foreign complexion saying “you’re no brothers of mine.” Although desperate to do what is right by those deemed his brothers, he draws the circle of brotherhood tightly around those of Russian nationality and ostracises anyone else. Can I man who frankly remarks that he “doesn’t really like Jews” be defined as heroic? Balabanov juxtaposes the image of Viktor Vasnetsov’s painting depicting three bogatyrs, traditional Russian heroes, over the bed where Danila pursues the unheroic endeavour of an affair with, Sveta, a married woman. Inevitably Danila is unable to protect Sveta from being raped and as such cannot be the heir to the Russian heroic tradition.
Гollywood.
So, why must this sense of turmoil be unique to Russia’s cultural identity? The dark hero, Danila, offers a move past Chernukha but he is hardly the most favourable model to base a national hero. Hollywood is said to control 70 per cent of world screen time with 4 per cent of world production and Russian spectators are proud of American heroes. The key to this, of course, is the fostering of the ‘American Dream’ through cinema and the absolute positivity toward identity and state. Hollywood seemed to have succeeded where Russia failed and reinvented, in a less artificial manner, Lenin’s words that ‘of all the arts… cinema is the most important’, for its ability to influence the masses. Furthermore, they have succeeded in implementing this on a global stage.
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