What a strange thing someone else’s marriage must be – two different people spending their lives together, having their own secrets, own codes, own routines, own ways of speaking to and treating each other. By the time we first meet Elena, the ageing (yet relatively recent) wife of Vladimir – we find her moving in respectful, caring half-silence around him. They both have separate families by previous marriages – Elena has a son and grandchildren living in near-poverty; Vladimir has a layabout daughter who has been (and continues to be) spoilt rotten by her grumbling father.
Everything seems relatively stable in this relationship. Only the ominous, dark soundtrack and a handful of meticulously calculated shots tell us otherwise. The opening sequence (of a sunrise seen through the dead, twisted tree branches which obscure the vast windows of Vladimir and Elena’s Moscow apartment, with crows perching and cawing menacingly) tell of death and misery; their dimly heard cries pervade the soundtrack throughout. The languorous tracking shots through this seemingly vacant apartment in pale morning light send a shiver down the spine. Something bad is going to happen. We just don’t how, when or why.
Andrey Zvyagintsev has crafted an intricate and ambiguous character study with Elena. Doubling as a parable about the avarice and selfishness of modern society, the atmosphere and smouldering tension lend the film a noir-ish feel. Yet this is not a thriller – to fit into that genre, it would need a third act and a ratchet-up in suspense for the finale. Zvyagintsev chooses not to follow that path; instead, he allows the film to follow its icy trajectory with horrible logic, punctuated by sudden bursts of violence, silent desperation and dashes of the macabre.
Morally complex and utterly compelling, Elena is a deeply impressive third offering from Zvyagintsev – whose debut, The Return, remains a modern masterpiece. At the centre of it is surely one of the finest, most subtle lead performances that this year has to offer – Nadezhda Markina plays a soft-spoken, apparently kind-hearted and loving woman, but whose loyalties are soon put to the test and whose true character slowly appears darker and more obscure as the film continues. Who is Elena, and what motivates her? There are no easy answers, and the film’s disquieting, understated ending leaves us with a bitter taste in our mouths. A formidable and mature piece of film-making.
12A certificate
Review by LiveWire Young Film Critic, James Martin (October ’12)