In this golden age of home viewing, the Criterion Collection still provides some of the best editions of the best movies ever released, usually with a rich selection of extras and often including audio commentaries (a feature they pioneered, and perhaps the greatest gift ever to film students and cinephiles alike). This column features one Criterion release per week, based on where my interests lead me and what’s available from my local public library.
Grigori Chukhrai’s Ballad of a Soldier is a Soviet film in that it was made in the Soviet Union, but stylistically it’s firmly in the European art house tradition. It was warmly received by an international audience, receiving among other honors a special jury prize at the 1960 Cannes Film Festival, a nomination for the 1961 Academy Award for Best Original Screenplay (Chukhrai and co-author Valentin Yezhov), and the 1961 BAFTA for Best Film from any Source (shared with Robert Rossen’s The Hustler). Chukhrai also won the Lenin Prize in 1961 for his contributions to the arts.
Ballad of a Soldier is less a war film and more a film set in wartime. It’s a road film following the experiences of the young Russian soldier Alyosha Skvortsov (Vladimir Ivashov) as he journeys home to visit his mother on a 6-day pass (awarded at his request in lieu of a military honor after he single-handedly takes out two German tanks). Alyosha starts his journey young and innocent, like the Fool of the tarot deck not realizing he’s about to step off a cliff into an unknown world, to the point that you worry that he may not be up to the task. His naivete makes him the focus of teasing but also wins over the heart of an older soldier (Vasya, played by Yevgeni Urbansky) who has been discharged but doesn’t want to return home because he fears his wife won’t want him since he had a leg amputated (spoiler alert: he needn’t have worried). Alyosha is no dummy, though: when he is refused the right to board a military train, a can of tinned beef is all it takes to make the obstruction disappear.
His journey highlights the effects of the war on civilians, as he witnesses the devastated countryside, cities reduced to rubble, and people of all ages and genders performing manual labor. One of his missions is to deliver a gift of soap to the wife of one of his fellow soldiers, so imagine living in a world where soap is a luxury (and for what it’s worth, it’s the unit’s allotment and doesn’t look like very nice soap). He also comes face to face with some of the less-than-savory choices people have made due to wartime conditions.
The most character-revealing sequence begins when a young woman (Shura, played by Zhanna Prokhorenko) jumps into the same boxcar as Alyosha. She tries to jump back out when she sees him, but he stops her (possibly saving her life) and is so pure of heart he acts like an older brother to her rather than an unattached soldier on leave. In an expressionistic sequence that stands out in an otherwise naturalistic film, he realizes too late what she was trying to tell him on the train, while his ability to overcome the increasing difficulties he encounters as he nears his goal tells us that he’s not the same wide-eyed young man that began this journey.
Alyosha is an individuated character but he’s also an everyman, as is clear from the narration that opens and closes the film—this is the story of a Russian soldier, who might have become a remarkable man, but will always be remembered as a soldier. Framing the story in this way heightens the mythic quality of the film, as does the cinematography of Vladimir Nikolayev and Era Savelyeva, and is probably one reason it was received so well by international critics. The young leads, Ivashov and Prokhorenko, were 19 and first-time movie actors when the film was made, and the reality of their youth is part of what makes the film so effective. | Sarah Boslaugh
Spine #: 148
Technical details: 89 min.; B&W; screen ratio 1.33:1; Russian.
Edition reviewed: DVD (1 disc)
Extras: video interview with director Grigori Chukhrai and actors Vladimir Ivashov.
Fun Fact: Nikita Kruschchev was reportedly a fan of the director, which may explain why he was able to make this film more than simple propaganda.
Parting Thought: In the opening narration, we are told this is the story of a Russian (not Soviet) soldier. The title omits the country reference altogether. Should we attach any particular meaning to these choices, and is it significant that director/co-screenwriter Chukhrai was of Ukrainian origin?
