The Return

So, anyway, here’s how the whole thing kicks off:

A promise is a promise. I mean, seriously, even when the timing is totally off—like last night, when I found myself sitting in one of those cramped, run-down movie theaters in downtown Chicago... it just goes to show.
I’ve been thinking lately... I mean, I guess I have been, about those endless, marathon sessions. You know the ones? I've actually sat through quite a few of those "legendary" meetings held by various social democratic groups, labor unions, and all those other political factions. And honestly? Most of them took place out in the biting cold, with temperatures hovering around five degrees below zero! It’s just... well, it's something else entirely, isn't it? Maybe it's just me, but there's something about that freezing weather that really changes the whole vibe of a political gathering.
A little bit of inner monologue—it’s kind of vital if you want to see where the plot is actually heading, I guess. A legend of the streets in Chicago, some young housewives, and a certain user...
Down at the Lester Garage with Mr. Leopold Bloom and me—well, he was running late again, as usual, mostly because of some chaotic transit delays on the MTA and a quick detour to grab a snack... I guess he just couldn't resist a quick bite before we met up!
Well, we’ve got our Smokey snacks and everything ready to go! We just settled into our seats for the screening of last year's big festival winner—that film *The Return*.
The Return of Andrey Zvyagintsev. Ugh, honestly, that was—well, at least in terms of length—a sentence worthy of Marquez and Joyce. I didn't even bother taking off my jacket, but Mr. did take off his coat... which felt a bit Beckett-esque, I guess. Maybe? Just a feeling!

It’s kind of like tracing the footsteps of those old-school Russian masters, I guess... there's this strange, almost mystical story unfolding about two brothers and their father, who suddenly just shows up out of thin air after being gone for twelve whole years. It’s wild because the movie doesn't even bother asking *why* he left, which feels weird at first, but then you realize—maybe that's not even the point? It really isn't. There’s so little dialogue, too. It’s very sparse. It feels more like a journey, a long road toward these heavy life lessons—dealing with resentment, bitterness, patience, maybe even revenge... all that stuff about overcoming weakness, facing impossible dilemmas, and the weight of being Sacrificed. There aren't any easy answers to the questions it asks. Instead, the tension just builds through these shots filled with nothingness—empty plazas, lonely streets, quiet diners, desolate highways... you know that feeling? And then, everything between these three people just hits a breaking point on an island. An empty island, I assume.🙂So, where exactly does the story lead after those mysterious phone calls from the father? I mean, the photography is just stunning, truly top-tier. Some of the scenes drag on a little longer than they probably should—though, I guess that long-take effect is something only masters like Kurosawa or Tarkovsky could really pull off without it feeling forced. It was actually a bit distracting for Herr.No, especially since he’d already taken his coat off, so I can't really blame him for being a bit restless! On the flip side, though, there are these absolutely incredible camera sweeps that I haven't seen in ages—it honestly reminded me of the style in Antonioni’s *Reporter* or even *The Sacrifice of T.* Just beautiful stuff. Take the very end, for instance: the camera tracks the departing car from an elevated angle, then dips down, slides to the right, focuses on the road and the coastline, pulls back, climbs up toward the left, and finally settles at this even higher vantage point on the right. It's just... wow. Such movement!
Mmm, absolutely brilliant... You’ve got all these scenes—on an island, in a boat, inside some abandoned house, at a lighthouse, along the coast—all building up toward this supposed resolution and climax that just... isn't there. There is no "week." And yet, that lack of a week *is* the film's climax. If you're wondering why I’d even bring up the missing week, well, I guess it's because at one point, I really thought there was something deeper going on. Given how the events are partitioned by announcements of the day (sort of like the vibe in *Radiation*) and the sheer nature of the events themselves, I kept sensing a parallel to the Gospels or those descriptions of the final days of Christ on Earth. Though, I suppose Mr. noted that such a comparison might lean into cheap sentimentality. Now, after a bit of a sleepless night, I actually think there’s some ground to stand on there. Especially when you consider how several scenes seem staged after Renaissance or later biblical paintings, or the constant presence of those soulful fish, the lectures, the themes of betrayal and disbelief... It's all very layered. Plus, the movie is peppered with these specific cinematic nods—you see it in the fire scenes (*Stalker*, *Mirror*), the meal scenes (*Seven Deadly Sins*), the bedroom settings (*The Sacrifice of T.*), and even that camera movement we were just discussing regarding *The Reporter's Profession*. I think Mr. even spotted some motifs reminiscent of Kurosawa. The film ends in such an unexpected way, too, with this sequence of stunning black-and-white photographs capturing everything that happened. But here's the thing: the father is absent from every single shot. Except, of course, for that very last photo, where everyone is together from the earliest days of childhood.

Just like Proust finds his own sense of time... I guess you could say sons eventually find their fathers too. Maybe? It’s funny how things work out that way, isn't it! Always coming full circle.

It feels like we’re circling back to one of those eternal themes that always seems to haunt Russian cinema—you know, that heavy, lingering focus on the tension between parents and their children, much like what you see in the works of Tarkovsky or Sokurov... I guess it’s just an inescapable part of their storytelling DNA.
With his debut film, I guess you could say The Return of Andrey Zvyagintsev manages this really incredible balancing act... he stays just far enough away from those heavy-hitting masters like Tarkovsky or Kurosawa to avoid being a mere imitation, yet he feels close enough to their spirit to carry that same weight. It’s quite remarkable, really! He finds this unique middle ground where he can honor those giants while still being entirely himself. Maybe that's the real trick to making a mark, isn't it? To be influenced without being swallowed up by it. Truly impressive stuff!
Man, what a fantastic movie! I mean, just... wow. Truly great stuff.

Frozen Mr. (that's what happens when you leave your coat behind) and Knee-Stiffened Alley (the inevitable result of legs that are just a bit too long for those narrow seats and a slightly yellowed baptismal gown) sort of slid their way down the main boulevard, heading straight for an espresso and cappuccino at some trendy, hip live jazz bar in downtown Chicago.

To echo what Arsenio was saying:
....just a quick stroll over to Times Square and the 42nd Street station, and we're basically there...
_________________

It was a truly phenomenal film; I shall attempt to gather my thoughts more thoroughly at a later time, but for now, I must depart.
I am quite pleased that someone has finally opened a discussion thread regarding this particular motion picture.

Oh, me too, me too!
The Return isn't just some movie; it is an absolute cinematic masterpiece...
Wouldn't I just love to sit down and experience it all over again?

Has anyone here actually sat down to watch this movie yet? I’d love to hear some thoughts on it. I’ve been thinking about catching it at the theater, but my schedule is a bit of a mess lately; if it turns out to be genuinely good, I suppose I could probably carve out three hours somewhere.
Thanks,

goldberry said:I’d honestly love to see that again...

Well, there's your chance right there. It's playing on Broadway.
I'm heading out there next week, so I'll check back in once I've had a look and let you know how it stacks up.🙂>

This is unmissable.

Absolutely stellar movie... honestly one of the best things I’ve sat through in the last year or two. The cinematography is just breathtakingly done, truly phenomenal work behind the lens... and while the plot seems straightforward enough on the surface, it’s actually quite "open," isn't it? It leaves so much room for interpretation, which means it all comes down to how you personally perceive it. For me, it felt like one of the most profound explorations of faith and belief ever put to film.

oh, and by the way, this picture actually snagged the Golden Lion at the Venice Film Festival back in 2003.

Honestly, this movie is a masterpiece.
Looking at those few stills floating around online and in the newspapers, I had this nagging feeling the whole thing would just be one long, heavy slog of depression and grayness—not just in the plot, but in the entire atmosphere.

The film took me by surprise in every single way, especially when it comes to the cinematography. I’m so glad I made the trip to the theater to see it; seeing this on a big screen is a completely different beast compared to watching it on VHS or a DVD.

As for the acting, they were🙏
Between those two kids, I can't quite decide who was better, though I suppose I leaned slightly toward the rebel type.😉

The End really leaves a bitter taste in your mouth...

If you don't go see this, you're missing out.😉

I find this a bit overrated, though I see you all are absolutely loving it here.

But, since I clearly lack the insight to spot the mirrors, the seven deadly sins, the sacrifices, or the journalistic tropes, I suppose my take isn't surprising. 😁

True, the movie encourages reflection on human relationships, which is something I usually appreciate.
However, something about the pacing bothered me—perhaps it was just an exceptional (and at times, truly excessive) sluggishness?
And most importantly—I felt completely emotionally detached from the characters (with the exception of the older brother, whom I started to pity toward the end because of the younger brother's selfishness).
Given that I’m typically hypersensitive, that’s a major failing for a film like this.😁

Maybe it'll seem a little better on a second viewing.

Mark Hughes36 said:And most importantly—I felt almost completely emotionally detached from the characters (with the exception of the older brother, whom I started to feel for toward the end because of how selfish the younger brother was).

Hmm, that’s an interesting take. Maybe we should shift the discussion toward how we personally experienced specific characters.
For me, the impression was the polar opposite of yours. Both of them actually hit me pretty hard. I felt for the older brother because of that unquestioning devotion he shows his father—he doesn't ask where he's been, why he abandoned them, what he does for a living, or where he's taking them... He’s just happy to finally have a father present, even if it's only for a few days. No questions asked. He listens and respects him regardless of everything else.
It's almost like the relationship between a believer and God. Unconditional faith and love.

The younger one, though? It's the exact opposite. He’s furious at his father, acting like a dog that was kicked after being left behind, and now he’s trying to establish some kind of authority and parent the father instead. He defies him at every turn because he demands explanations; he refuses to accept this man just because he happens to be his biological parent.
It's basically the skeptic vs. God. 😁

Both are incredibly intense emotional reactions. If I had to go so far as to say, I think the younger boy is actually more emotional (or at least they are equally driven), because I suspect that beneath all that defiance and the desperate need for answers—and probably an apology—lies a deep-seated fear of being abandoned all over again.

And I wouldn't call the kid selfish at all. He grew up without a father, and now this guy suddenly shows up and starts barking orders? He has every right to be angry.

I found myself constantly wondering how I would handle myself in a situation like that. Honestly? I think my reaction would be much closer to the younger boy's than the older one's.

Sometimes I wonder if I have some kind of neurological disorder—maybe a mild case of autism—or if I’m just plain unintelligent. It feels as though I lack the capacity for symbolic interpretation and metaphorical understanding. Honestly, I was the only student in my class who didn't see the subtext at the end of that Mark Twain story we were assigned as required reading; I didn't see it as the flame of revolution, but merely as a melodramatic climax. A crude realist, I suppose!
To get back to the topic at hand, I didn't see any of that intense religious undertone in this movie at all. It never occurred to me, much like how I failed to catch all those cinematic references and nods that others seemed unable to miss.
Ah, Mother Russia and all that nonsense... I suppose I should probably rush off to re-read Fyodor Dostoevsky, Mikhail Bulgakov, and the rest of the Russian classics, though I suspect that given who I am, I’d almost certainly end up a nihilist after all that!
And since that obvious allegory escaped me—and since I'm currently beating myself up over it and slapping my forehead in frustration—perhaps I should mention what I actually perceived with my prosaic, analytical mind.
First off, there was that stylistically forced photography in every shade of green, which initially tricked me into thinking it was naturalism—especially with that great opening scene depicting the hopelessness of American youth in their modern homeland—but over time, it increasingly felt like a habitat catalog from around '94 when Polaroids were all the rage. Everything in the film was incredibly stylish and tasteful. Modestly furnished rooms. The weary, beautiful face of the mother dressed in simple clothes. An intellectual three-day beard and piercing black eyes, worthy of our very own Radeta in a Hollywood setting.
Then I noticed that most of the action boiled down to people getting in and out of cars. Slamming doors in every possible variation. Stilted dialogue. Sudden outbursts of repressed emotion. And then, total silence.
Not to mention the complete marginalization of female characters. A grandmother gnawing on bones, a mother smoking wistfully on the balcony, and then lying in bed in a silk jumpsuit, finally finding refuge after years of waiting.
Just like ninety-five percent of female characters in Slavic, Mediterranean, Middle Eastern, Far Eastern, and North American cinema.
So, what is this film telling me, as a woman? Is it about redemption, sacrifice, and faith, or is it about patriarchal authority and political power? Does it visually evoke Sinai and Golgotha, or is it marble, stone, and iron amidst the modern American socio-economic wasteland? If you ask me, it's all just pure abstraction and pseudo-mysticism, relevant only within a specific cultural context. To me, this film is an American Amelia, a victim of its own clichés and aesthetics—competently made, but ultimately one-dimensional and superficial.

steelstag4, what you said about unconditional love and defiance still rings true
the comparison to one's relationship with God actually holds water

but personally, I find myself leaning toward ironcrane7's take—"essentially one-dimensional and shallow"

The characters and their dynamics just aren't fleshed out enough; it makes the whole thing feel unconvincing
That insistence on extreme reactions from the boys toward a father who suddenly appears out of nowhere feels forced and flat, which adds to that sense of disbelief
To me, the younger boy felt almost caricatured in his behavior, even if it was clear from the start he’s just a hyper-sensitive kid

Maybe some film snobs will try to excuse it as a stylistic choice for minimalism or whatever

spoiler alert

The younger brother's selfishness—that sheer willingness to be stubborn and sulky regardless of the cost—really screams ego. No one is saying he doesn't have reasons, but it was obvious who was responsible for getting back from fishing on time, and the younger brother exploited his older brother's kindness without a second thought just to get his way (though I'm sure some will call that madness😁).

bizarre:

It’s just bizarre—the actor who plays the older brother actually drowned in that lake from the second movie, just a few months after filming. It's such a dark coincidence. To make matters even stranger, they shot the first film out in the Puget Sound area and then moved production over to LaDogi for the sequel.

ironcrane7 said:Sometimes I honestly find myself wondering if there’s something going on up there, like maybe I have some kind of neurological thing or even just a mild case of autism, or if I’m just, I don't know, not exactly the brightest bulb in the box?

I wouldn't say that last part was quite right, I guess... maybe you should probably head to the doctor for a checkup first just to be safe.

To get back to what we were actually talking about, I don't know, I just didn't see all that heavy religious stuff in the movie at all. It didn't really strike me as being like that, I guess. I mean, I guess it just finally clicked, you know? Like, it actually makes sense now. I mean, I honestly didn't even catch all those movie quotes and little hints that some people just couldn't seem to keep out of their line of sight, I guess.

I mean, honestly, I didn't catch any religious themes or heavy-handed quotes either, but I guess that’s just me. Personally, I don't think you even need that kind of stuff for a movie to be actually good, you know?

I guess I should probably mention what I actually managed to pick up with my super boring, overly analytical brain...

So, some people are out here calling that just some "stylistically forced photography," but honestly? I think it’s one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen in a movie. I don't know, maybe it's just my own weird professional bias acting up or something. And look, just because you see these bleak, hopeless images from, like, 1994 or even back in the mid-60s doesn't necessarily mean the director wasn't being original. It might just mean—and this is just my take—that the world hasn't actually moved an inch in the last ten or forty years. I guess where one person sees a lack of imagination or an artist getting stuck in their ways, someone else might see total, raw honesty.
Maybe we're looking at some kind of glitch again? I don't know, I guess it could just be another weird distortion or something like that.

I mean, what does Radeta even have to do with this? I guess if you’re going to try and dodge movie criticism by throwing out random references to stuff that isn't even directly related to the film, then you really ought to be consistent about it, you know? Otherwise, you're just asking to be called out for being biased.

Look, just because a movie is packed with action doesn't mean it's actually any good, you know? I really feel like high-octane stunts shouldn't be some kind of prerequisite for a solid story. I guess what I'm trying to get at is...
I mean, honestly, it felt like most of the action in that movie was just people getting in and out of cars. Like, seriously, it was just endless scenes of slamming doors in every possible way you can imagine... I guess that was supposed to be the "drama" or something?
So, why don't you just head straight out to Hollywood and get yourself an action role?

And then there's this whole thing about "deep dialogues." I guess you're talking about the sheer volume of it all, right? Like, just how much analytical, realistic thinking you can cram into one sitting. Honestly, I bet if your father—who I assume you haven't even seen in like ten years—actually came to visit you these days, you two would probably talk so much that you wouldn't stop until you both literally collapsed from exhaustion. Basically, what I'm trying to say is, I don't think you have any clue what you're actually talking about.

I mean, I guess it just feels like there’s this total, complete marginalization of female characters happening lately, you know? Like, they’re just pushed so far to the sidelines that they barely even exist in the narrative, which is honestly kind of frustrating if you think about it.
I mean, I guess if you look at like ninety-five percent of the female characters in movies from all over the Mediterranean or Eastern Europe—you know, those gritty indie flicks or big sweeping dramas—it feels like they’re almost always written the exact same way, which is honestly kind of exhausting to watch.

I feel like I honestly learned a ton today, you know? Like, if you really sit down and think about what makes a movie actually work, it seems like you need a solid grasp on all those little pop culture cross-references, some intense cinematic action, and then making sure there’s a really even balance of women in the cast. I guess that's just how it works, maybe.

It’s just so incredibly gatekeeping and regulatory, like, it’s basically a de facto restriction on everything. Honestly, God forbid you ever find yourself sitting on some committee that gets to decide what someone else's art is actually worth.

I mean, what does this movie actually say to me, just as a woman?

Since you’re actually asking, I feel like it’s only fair that I finally give you a straight answer.
When you just go ahead and dump a whole bucket of prejudices, intellectual snobbery, and pure arrogance like that—basically just tossing a bunch of tired clichés at a masterpiece because you’re too lazy or incapable of actually grasping it—it honestly tells me one thing about you:

I mean, at the end of the day, it just feels kind of one-dimensional and super shallow.

rapidskiper9,
It is entirely possible, though I fail to see how that correlates with low intelligence—a point I have already addressed. How else can one explain my complete lack of comprehension regarding certain members here who feel the need to morally and intellectually tear apart anyone unfortunate enough to criticize a universally acclaimed masterpiece or a personal favorite of our "esteemed" members? Honestly, even one of the moderators engages in this regularly.
That kind of personal attack simply doesn't sit right with me.
First off, I see zero reason to swap actual arguments for personal insults, which usually boil down to claiming that anyone with a differing opinion is simply incapable of grasping the depth of a film—as if those who deal with cinema professionally (or the angry replicants in this instance) hold some monopoly on understanding, making any further explanation of the obvious totally pointless. And just to be clear, I am not presenting my critiques as objective arguments, but rather as impressions, as I previously stated; however, I don't expect to be personally attacked just because my approach is subjective.
Secondly, this is a forum. The whole point is discussion and the exchange of diverse perspectives. It seems somewhat ironic to label someone an intellectual snob just because they deviate from the consensus of mainstream critics and festival juries.
Thirdly, if we are actually having a discussion—and if people are willing to engage in one—it is vital that the person responding actually reads what the previous poster said instead of misrepresenting it. It is true that I didn't go into exhaustive detail in my post, but you still managed to misrepresent my position.
Furthermore, I believe the lack of representation and the clichéd nature of the female characters in the film is a perfectly valid observation. Which makes these religious connotations seem even more reactionary to me.
To ensure there is no misunderstanding, let me summarize my take on the film: it is very elegant, technically flawless, excellently acted, and the subtle interaction between the three leads is wonderful. However, the overall impression is that the stylistic tools have become an end unto themselves; there is simply too much "good taste" and too many aesthetic aspirations. I had a similar reaction to Deep end—the psychological motives and characterization were completely overshadowed by the technical and stylistic elements, leaving a result that feels somewhat superficial. As for my comparison to Amelia, I was referring to the way national clichés were handled through the directorial approach.
My critique of the film being one-dimensional and superficial refers specifically to that.

Great..

It shows the difference between those two boys so well. Neither one is poorly drawn. Simple technique, no fluff. And the movie is just overflowing with emotion.. To me, the dad feels like just an element used to mark the transition from boys to men. An authority figure pushing them along. .. Well, I don't know, I'm not qualified to analyze this film, I feel unworthy 😁 The cinematography and framing beautifully depict mother Russia. This movie actually convinced me not to go to that civilian rally. I'm not calling the waitresses low-class either 😁

ironcrane7, decoding symbols isn't something you're born with. You have to learn it. It’s about being well-read, having a culture of watching films, thinking about them, etc. For example: when you see a shot of a person, and then there's a pan (the camera moves) and it shows, say, a skull, what comes to mind? The director definitely didn't just want to show a dusty skull. To me, it would suggest that person is facing death, or contemplating it, or something. The director did that with a simple camera movement—that pan says a thousand words, plus the emotion. See, that's just one very simple example. Symbolism can be much more complex, subtle, and harder to crack. In my opinion, that kind of symbolism makes a film true art. If you don't use it, the film drops to the level of Hollywood crap.

And your thoughts on how the film isn't politically correct are hilarious. What are you even talking about? This movie isn't a platform for you to air your unique views on world injustice (not defending it, just saying it's pointless). The film doesn't happen to talk about women, nor does it talk about Black people, or gay people, or Americans, or Catholics. What did you manage to find to talk about? Seriously! I only allow the politicization of art in bad movies 😁

Look, ironcrane7 just wants to be ahead of the curve—kind of like those people who think acting like a huge Bush fan makes them edgy or enlightened right now. She’s trying to use all that dense Hegel-Heidegger nonsense to label the rest of us as pseudo-intellectuals just because we’re actually sitting here enjoying this gorgeous film... though if anyone is being fake, I’m pretty sure it’s her posts.
Sure, you could argue a photo can be "stylistically forced or calculated," but honestly? It’s still beautiful exactly as it is.

I watched this one with two friends
both of them have a real appetite for good cinema
truth be told, none of the three of us possess any actual expertise when it comes to film analysis
regardless, none of us walked away particularly impressed

It isn't a bad movie, but I can't bring myself to view it as a masterpiece, much like most people feel about this subject
I couldn't shake the feeling of forced artistry—the director spent too much energy on the packaging at the expense of the substance, as the emotional core just didn't land for me

spoiler alert

that contrived mystery surrounding the treasure chest only reinforced my point

I’m not trying to play defense for ironcrane7, but I think the snobbery here lies more with those who hail this as an unrealized triumph than with those who notice its flaws

A typical indie film
with its "deep" layers of symbolism
and those heavy-handed dedications
not to mention the cinematography trying to tell its own story
Aren't those exactly the elements that signal snobbery? That "we see things you mere mortals can't grasp" attitude

Watching this left me with a similar sensation to watching Memento (before Mark Hughes36 jumps down my throat, 😁 I’m not comparing the films themselves, just describing my post-watch headspace)
There is no question they are above-average movies
but I didn't experience them as masterpieces
largely because of that nagging sense that the director was desperately trying to manufacture a masterpiece
and that always rubs me the wrong way

Look, Shipko, I’m not going to take offense at you patronizing me with your little movie recommendations. I view it as nothing more than well-meaning advice that I am perfectly free to ignore as I see fit. Nor will I take Sophia Evans76’s comment literally and indignantly protest that I’m somehow obsessed with Bush. However, I find it quite fascinating to observe that none of those who enjoyed this film—especially those who reacted so aggressively to my post—have bothered to actually explain or deconstruct their positions. That is, of course, with the curious exception of HellaBud, who was the only one interesting enough to actually do so.
Being dazzled by a beautiful film doesn't actually prove anything—unless, of course, you believe that such an emotional reaction is a foolproof guarantee of objective artistic merit. It implies one possesses a sensibility so refined that mere feeling equates to truth. If that isn't the case, then I truly see no reason why I should be judged based on my personal response. Mine. Emotional reactions—or, more accurately, the complete absence of them.
I’m going to take this opportunity to bid farewell to this thread, which has started to feel less like a discussion and more like a massive group therapy session. Without wanting to pick sides or join any specific camp, I’ll quote Mark Hughes36, who managed to articulate my exact grievance with this film:

It’s just that nagging sensation you get—that feeling that the director was genuinely aiming for a masterpiece.

I didn't care for the film.

P.S. By grouping women, Black people, and homosexuals all into one single sentence, Shipko, you’ve actually just handed me the perfect proof for one of my arguments.

When I wrote this yesterday, I felt like I went way too hard on the condescension, but by then it was already too late to redo the whole thing. And honestly, I didn't even mention the movie 😁

My bad. I sincerely apologize. All I really did was lower the bar for the discussion. :pepel: :pepel: