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Not to be confused with the recent Park Chan-wook/Nicole Kidman curio, but a return to UK cinemas for Russian provocateur Aleksey Balabanov, whose Of Freaks and Men gained a cult reputation in 2000. His latest is no less bizarre: a pitch-black allegory about an Afghan war veteran employed as a factory stoker. In exchange for paper on which he tentatively pecks out a novel, the stoker (Mikhail Skryabin, wryly touching) allows local heavies to burn corpses in his furnace – at least until matters get personal, and the deal requires renegotiation. It's full of idiosyncratic, almost suicidal directorial choices – a noodly guitar score, inexpressive, doll-like actors – yet weirdly cuts to the heart of a country that's been taken over by such unlovely characters. In materialistic structures, Balabanov suggests, subterranean workers and artists risk being crushed. Pussy Riot, anyone? Dhaka, even? | Not to be confused with the recent Park Chan-wook/Nicole Kidman curio, but a return to UK cinemas for Russian provocateur Aleksey Balabanov, whose Of Freaks and Men gained a cult reputation in 2000. His latest is no less bizarre: a pitch-black allegory about an Afghan war veteran employed as a factory stoker. In exchange for paper on which he tentatively pecks out a novel, the stoker (Mikhail Skryabin, wryly touching) allows local heavies to burn corpses in his furnace – at least until matters get personal, and the deal requires renegotiation. It's full of idiosyncratic, almost suicidal directorial choices – a noodly guitar score, inexpressive, doll-like actors – yet weirdly cuts to the heart of a country that's been taken over by such unlovely characters. In materialistic structures, Balabanov suggests, subterranean workers and artists risk being crushed. Pussy Riot, anyone? Dhaka, even? |
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