Leviathan is one of the most terrifying pro religion films I’ve seen. An Oscar and Palme D’Or nominee this family drama scopes out Biblical proportions for its little Russian property dispute. Leviathan is in the proud tradition of Dostoevsky, focusing on the ripple of effect of rash decision-making on the people you love.
Leviathan takes place in rural Russia. Nikolay (Aleksey Serebryakov), enlists the help of Dmitriy (Vladimir Vdovichenkov), a Moscow based lawyer and war buddy, to help save his family home from being repossessed by town mayor Vadim (Roman Madyanov). Nikolay also has to deal with family problems at home, as his son Roma (Sergey Pokhodaev) treats his stepmother Lilya (Elena Lyadova) like garbage.
Leviathan uses a grand landscape to paint a simple story. The camera sucks you in with its slow movement: this is a place of stasis, which juxtaposes jarringly with the bubbling resentment and anger of the family constantly in a state of flux. The first hour places the bombs, which you can see exploding from a mile away. Each new explosion adds a new level of devastation for all the principals, especially after getting to know how basically good they are. Russian writers have been contemplating these ideas for years, and it is good to see them translate seamlessly across mediums.
In a weird way, Leviathan is a lengthy commercial for religion. When living a bleak existence as a poor family, Leviathan suggests that faith in people is a wrongful choice. Small, poor communities, though supportive, have a destructive impulsive streak inside of them and systemic injustice built to keep them down. To escape the depression coming, they must put their faith in a higher power. Every character that feels they have a higher purpose ends up in good spots, while the others that trusted in mankind end up despondent. Such conclusions are rare in movie world, and raise pensive questions about faith and people.
The actors deserve lot of credit for Leviathan’s success. Elena Lyadova and Aleksey Serebryakov carry the burden of Russian tragic figure with bare sadness, rage and empathy. The consequences of their flaws ripple through the pair, leaving them to turn into empty shells by movie’s end. Vladimir Vdovichenkov display the evolutionary man well; cool, smart, and wise enough to get away when his flaws get the better of him. Sergey Pokhodaev adds a dose of tear jerk as the doomed couple’s son, and Roman Madyanov gives texture to what could have been a one note politician.
Shakespeare’s got nothing on Russian tragedy. Leviathan continues Russia’s proud reign as the sadness king, using desolate landscape and decaying buildings to cover up decaying people. You know you don’t want to live somewhere where a giant skeleton of a sea creature just can hang around and rot.