This is an eerie, unsettling portrait of two women who - through the shared trauma of war - become dependent on one another.
It's difficult to describe their relationship as romantic, nor uplifting, nor indeed equal; belying her size, Iya (Beanpole) is an anxious wallflower who is emotionally manipulated by Masha into surrogacy. It is uncomfortable viewing; one never gets the sense that Masha is wedded to anything except her need to become a mother again. As such, the reconciliation at the end feels sour; Masha says what Iya needs to hear, and Iya says what Masha needs to hear, but do we imagine that description of an idyllic future is anything but another yarn to string Iya along?
Through this story, we gain other glimpses into post-war Russia - primarily revolving around the comings and goings of a Leningrad hospital caring for injured soldiers. But even seemingly extraneous narrative threads turn out to be linchpins in our two protagonists' tale (for example, unsactioned euthanasia providing the 'kompromat' for Masha to force the doctor into sexual service).
The two central performances are very good. Dialogue is often frustratingly sparse - we get the impression that little of what our characters are thinking makes it out of their mouths intact. The cinematography is artful, and notably warm in its palette - where others might have chosen a washed out, bleak look as a crude match for the mood. Music is almost entirely absent, beyond the occasional diegetic ditty on a radio or record player.
Overall, this is a well-executed, unusual and unnerving film that is difficult to love, but easy to admire.
It's difficult to describe their relationship as romantic, nor uplifting, nor indeed equal; belying her size, Iya (Beanpole) is an anxious wallflower who is emotionally manipulated by Masha into surrogacy. It is uncomfortable viewing; one never gets the sense that Masha is wedded to anything except her need to become a mother again. As such, the reconciliation at the end feels sour; Masha says what Iya needs to hear, and Iya says what Masha needs to hear, but do we imagine that description of an idyllic future is anything but another yarn to string Iya along?
Through this story, we gain other glimpses into post-war Russia - primarily revolving around the comings and goings of a Leningrad hospital caring for injured soldiers. But even seemingly extraneous narrative threads turn out to be linchpins in our two protagonists' tale (for example, unsactioned euthanasia providing the 'kompromat' for Masha to force the doctor into sexual service).
The two central performances are very good. Dialogue is often frustratingly sparse - we get the impression that little of what our characters are thinking makes it out of their mouths intact. The cinematography is artful, and notably warm in its palette - where others might have chosen a washed out, bleak look as a crude match for the mood. Music is almost entirely absent, beyond the occasional diegetic ditty on a radio or record player.
Overall, this is a well-executed, unusual and unnerving film that is difficult to love, but easy to admire.