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We open from a bird's eye view of a ship. Wait! How big is that ship? We pan closer and as perspective becomes clearer, we see that the ship is hundreds of miles long. And floating above the water, capable of flying over it at immense speeds. Tromping up the many boarding ramps are the hundreds of thousands of Russian survivors of the Robot Holocaust. They are the last of Men. They are humanity's only hope. Now they've found something their Robot Overlords didn't count on. A force of immense psychic power. And the power to take back what's theirs by force… the RUSSIAN ARK! (Note: the Russian Ark has tons of guns sticking out of it.) That's not what happens in the trailer at all, of course. But if you want to get people to come see your movie in the US of A, that's what you should be showing. The trailer to Russian Ark betrays a deep and thorough lack of understanding of the American film palate. It's complex-looking; it's probably some labor of defiant passion; doubtlessly it's completely unabashed about making important artistic statements. "Good cop, bad cop" scenarios are not in evidence. Nobody dives in bullet time to take a slug meant for his partner. There isn't one man, alone, fighting against all odds for what is right, for America, for Democracy, for his attractive LA-based girlfriend and their multiracial half-alien CIA-trained children. The fish in this movie is not out of water, and in fact seems quite at home in and delighted by his new surroundings. Simply put, this
looks like a tough movie for Americans to swallow. I know. I'm one of
them. I'm smarter than most of them, but I am simpatico avec les rabbles.
I can see how director Alexander Sokurov might have made the
mistake of thinking Americans would be capable of enjoying something like this. As a foreigner, Sokurov is probably a
bit more willing to give the benefit of the doubt to us. Well, don't.
To the non-American mind, the premise of the film (according to the
film's official website) is easy to accept: An invisible Russian filmmaker
time travels with a 19th century French diplomat back to the 1700's
in St. Petersburg's Hermitage Museum where they pay witness to Russia's
turbulent past all the way to present day. The Hermitage is the Russian
Ark, affectionately guarding art and history until the world sees better
days.
Now, you guys got
the time traveling thing right, but what purpose did you put it to?
Self discovery? Exploration of art and cultural mores? Exploration?
Mores? Of? Americans won't understand this! Why time travel
at all if you aren't going to wedge in CGI effects and let your heroes
shoot cool-looking weapons in a race against time to kill a historical
figure? Russians, I'm here
to help you. Once foes, I now hand you the laurel of friendship with
some sage advice for snagging the American public into a theater to
see your film.
Here's another hint. The poster of the movie is abominable. All it has on it are glowing quotes from reviewers and no tag line. You need a tag. "Bad. Badder. Extra Baddest." Something like that. Here's how I would have made your poster:
I realize I haven't
actually mentioned very much about the trailer itself, but really, there's
not much to say. It doesn't make any sense without the website plot
synopsis. I thought the trailer was a great sell for what it is, actually:
an enormous art movie. It lets you know in no uncertain terms that
lots of people in period Russian costumes will run through mansion halls
and dance minuets in wigs. No film's goal has
ever been or ever will be to sell just 10, maybe 11 tickets. If I were
Surokov, I'd make the leap into false advertising. Take my poster suggestion.
It's yours. Because Russian Ark is probably so different from
any other movie thus made, it's conceivable that the average American
Joe would sit through the whole thing, completely innocent, expecting
a robot holocaust at any moment. He would be riveted. And when they
complain on their way out that there were no robots or holocausts, all
you have to do is remember three simple words: "I'm an artist." I don't really know
how to score this, so I'm going to be a complete egotist and use my
own scoring system just this once. I give Russian Ark 3 Sean
Crespos. I thought it had some interesting Sean Crespos, but ultimately
failed to live up to my Sean Crespos.
RATING:
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The
year is 2344. All governments have been destroyed. The robot armies
have won, and the world has been submerged by melted polar ice caps.
The unmelted polar ice caps float by in silence and do nothing to help.
The few remaining survivors fight back mutants and robot armies in Russia...
and yet, alas, their hope is on the wane.
To
the American mind, which has no love or even knowledge of art, and could
fit everything known or cared about Russian history into a shot glass
filled to the brim with vodka, this would seem pointless and boring.
Plus, let me make this clear: there are no robots. I can't believe in
this day and age, filmmakers from other countries don't know enough
to stop being so damn foreign. If I've said it once, I've said it a
thousand times: IF YOU MAKE A MOVIE INTENDED TO BE SOLD OR SHOWN IN
THE UNITED STATES OF FUCKING AMERICA, IT MUST HAVE AT LEAST ONE ROBOT!!!
Preferably
a hundred. And preferably programmed to kill the future leader of an
anti-robot resistance. And if you could throw an Adam Sandler into the
mix somehow, all the better.
