I loved this beautifully paced, insightful and wise Russian tale about the arrogance and disrespect of youth towards the older generation, contrasted with the dignity, good manners, liberalism and respect of the country estate ‘little aristocrats’. Turgenev writes with great sensitivity, evoking the profound social change and conveying characters’ deep emotion without ever stating it; such understated writing and unhurried pace comforts and absorbs. He leaves the reader to infer what goes unsaid and, in this short novel, puts across a gently ironic overview of the social structure of the time; the liberal enlightened landowners are caught between trying, on the one hand, to give ‘their’ peasants autonomy, while on the other hand, they have the peasants mocking them and not seeming to want responsibility for their own living. The blurring of the old boundaries and systems is disquieting to everyone. He does kill off the dangerous young student scientist nihilist, who is a threat to everything and everyone, and happily restores the nice young man to his family farm where he begins to introduce a fresh, but not revolutionary approach to managing the country. Makes me want to read more Russian literature.
Dropout Kurt arrives in town and calls up his old friend, earnest father-to-be Mark to suggest a camping trip out in the forest, away from the city. They haven’t seen each other for some time and the film suggests a desire for intimacy as well as a quest for peace. Something of a lost soul, Kurt is emotional and, at times, to be pitied. He lives outside society, in a world of new age type retreats and travels, which seem to have left him out on the margins. In contrast, Mark has a home and a pregnant partner, and tunes his car radio in to phone-ins with much loud chat about the state of society in America but he seems only half alive. They drive out of town, with the camera as passenger, which gazes out of the car window while a gorgeous soundtrack by Yo La Tengo sets a mellow mood. The use of extended silence makes me a little uneasy; it’s hard to get away from memories of Deliverance, and a sense of apprehension. In the city, the glass of the car windows insulates us...
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