Realização:
Andrey ZvyagintsevCâmara:
Mikhail KrichmanMúsica:
Philip GlassElenco:
Elena Lyadova, Vladimir Vdovichenkov, Aleksey Serebryakov, Roman Madyanov, Анна Уколова, Sergey Pokhodaev, Кристина Пакарина, Igor Sergeev (mais)Streaming (1)
Sinopses(1)
Kolia mora numa pequena cidade à beira do mar de Barents, no norte da Rússia. Tem uma garagem ao lado da casa onde vive com a mulher Lylia e o filho Romka, de um casamento anterior. O Presidente da Câmara da cidade, Vadim Sergeyich, deseja apropriar-se do terreno do Kolia, da sua casa e da sua garagem. Tem projetos para aquela propriedade. Inicialmente tenta comprá-la mas Kolia não suporta a ideia de perder tudo o que possui, não apenas o terreno mas também a beleza que o rodeia desde que nasceu. É então que Vadim Sergeyich se torna mais agressivo... (Leopardo Filmes)
(mais)Vídeos (12)
Críticas (5)
Estes filmes russos contemporâneos de qualidade são espantosos, tanto para os visuais de grande ângulo que melhoram a atmosfera do vasto e frio cenário nórdico, como para a narração exemplar com a sua concentração nos personagens. São lentos e longos, mas não há nada a mais. Contam com fluidez uma história clara e simples, mas tornam-se mais concisos e criativos na sua edição quanto mais perto estão do final. Notável, excelente. ()
There are no merit awards in Cannes, and Zvyagincev's screenplay deserves it. Precisely balanced by various genre elements, it works as an intimate study and an ambitious metaphor of Russian reality. Kolja's character is built precisely so as not to arouse pity during the film, but his last words ultimately function as a reminder of the deepest human helplessness. Leviathan is lyrical, perceptive, funny, composed with absolute balance and a masterful feeling for each shot (reflection of the introduction and conclusion, static units of the landscape). The work with crumbling architecture is unpretentious, while reflecting the protagonist's gradual downfall and a stale system, who automatically spews paragraphs, sublime words about truth and God to cover the hypocritical intoxication of power. The authorities are, in fact, similar to an excavator, which maliciously smashes into a dilapidated, rotten house of an ordinary person. There is something Russian pathetic, moralistic, soaring, beautiful and overwhelming. And it is good to realize that Zvyagintsev did not make a noble and insignificant artistic gesture, but rather a bold act that will probably at least affect his film career in Russia. [100%] ()
(49th KVIFF) There’s nothing a person can do against Leviathan. “You don’t have any rights, never had and never will.” In the beautiful seaside setting of north-western Russia, Andrej Zvjagincev tells the tragedy of a family while revealing the not very pretty state of today’s (nor only Russian) society and church. Leviathan may not move your heart or make you sit in silent amazement, but the script and the director’s grip are so perfectionist and purposeful that it’s impossible not to praise them. Some of my festival five-star ratings come from the heart, this one comes from the head, but that doesn’t put into question their strength. Just to be clear, some of Leviathan’s scenes can really squeeze some emotions. The view of the majestic sea with the waves crashing on the jagged rocks, plus the majestic music that makes you realise the smallness of man and the hopelessness of the struggle against authority, those are moments that bring goosebumps and resonate long after the screening. ()
My relationship with Leviathan is best characterized by the fact that I did not have the courage to watch it for over 3 years, even though it was stored on my computer. I was simply scared of the darkness that emanated from the story. Zvyagintsev's film perfectly characterizes Russia as unchanging over time. The combination of the crown, the sword, and the altar, along with the disdain for ordinary people, creates a very hostile environment in Russian society where the individual means nothing and bows to absolute power. The actions of the church officials are reminiscent of the current patriarch Kirill, who gets along so well with the authorities in the Kremlin. Zvyagintsev hit the nail on the head with the conditions that led to the war in Ukraine. A chilling film and unfortunately very true. Overall impression: 95%. ()
With long, almost endless shots, the director tells a story from faraway Russia, where no one gives a shit about the people and only the fattest cats can ride on the gravy train. That’s why Kolya experiences a rather brutal blow that was dealt to him by a local fat cat – Mayor Vadim. It is clear from the very beginning that this film will not try to endear itself to anyone, given the way it is made. Everyone has to find their own way to this film, and that may take the 140 minutes this movie has. What was bad and rather harsh for me was mainly the ending, which reflected the current mood of us, ordinary people who keep on fighting, but sometimes it is unfortunately not enough. ()
Galeria (88)
Photo © Non Stop Production
Publicidade