#vladimir garin

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Возвращение / The Return Andrey Zvyagintsev. 2003

Tower 1 Ladoga Mayak, Unnamed Road, Пятиречье, Leningrad Oblast, Russia, 188734 See on Letterboxd

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[konoyarou17]

Возвращение/The Return (2003) dir. Andrey Zvyagintsev

[addictivecontradiction]

Возвращение, 2003

[vidioten]

Vozvrashchenie (2003), Andrey Zvyagintsev.

[okavunicibalikbenmisim]

The Return-Andrey Zvyagintsev (2003)

[cadwalladery]

The Return (Andrey Zvyagintsev, 2003)

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Günübirliğine yaşamaktan köreldik, karardık.

Füruzan, Kuşatma Fotoğraf: Andrey Zvyagintsev’in 2003 yapımı, “The Return” (Dönüş) filminden, (Vladimir Garin).

[natehoodreviews]

400 Words on THE RETURN [2003] ★★★★½

Andrey Zvyagintsev’s The Return is the kind of movie you watch between your fingers as you hold your hands up to your face for protection. Every scene, every shot, every frame drips with the dread of violence—not the violence of a thriller or horror film where you expect someone to die or get hurt, but the psychic violence of abuse and humiliation. The Return plays almost like an ancient mythology where the Sky God’s sons must defeat and usurp their father (e.g. the Hellenistic Cronus, the Semitic El) before they can come into their own rightful power and authority. Yet Zvyagintsev strips his movie of all fanciful folkloric flourishes, preferring Tarkovskian atmospherics and murky pictorial bleakness (this is one of the wettest movies every made—scarcely a scene goes by without swimming or rain). But if Tarkovsky was concerned with metaphysical observations on memory and spirituality, Zvyagintsev is fascinated with power, specifically how it manifests within toxic masculine spaces. The film follows two young brothers, Ivan (Ivan Dobronravov) and Andrei (Vladimir Garin), who come home one day to find that their absent father of twelve years (Konstantin Lavronenko) has unexpectedly returned. When their father—who is never actually named—invites them on a fishing trip to get reacquainted, they tentatively accept. But as their trip continues it slowly devolves into a battle of wills between the three. Andrei, the older brother, seems excited for his father’s return, and bends over backwards to please him. But Ivan, insecure and “unmanly,” goes out of his way to fight back against him. Soon their father starts berating and terrorizing them, and every scene becomes a stand-off to see who breaks first. Even a simply confrontation about finishing one’s soup at a restaurant becomes bowel-chillingly nerve-wracking. Eventually the father’s demands evolve into exercises in cruelty, almost as if he’s hazing them for manhood: consider one scene where he abandons a petulant Ivan by the side of the road and leaves him there in the middle of a thunderstorm, presumably for hours. But more often than not it’s Ivan we’re mystified with, his indomitable will forcing him to goad their increasingly unstable father further and further into mania. Eventually we throw our hands up in wonder—just who is proving their masculinity to whom? Nauseatingly tense, The Return is one of the most auspicious directorial debuts of the new century.