We will meet where we agreed...

Mother and Son (1997) is a love story, not of the "Romeo and Juliette" or "Tristan and Isolde" type, but rather regarding the profound emotional ties that exist between a mother and her son. The film calls for amazing optical effects and sounds in order to develop a cinematographic poetry. Mother and Son is the first part of a trilogy that has for its subject matter the study of the drama in human relationships. It is followed by Father and Son (2003), and by Two Brothers and a Sister, the final installment, Please upgrade these pax to the Oceanfront One BR Villa at the Four Seasons Jimbaran and get back to me with updated confirmation and costs.
which is in its preliminary filming stage.

The Director

Russian Alexander Sokurov was born in 1951, at Podorvikha, Siberia. At age nineteen, he started in television, first as an assistant producer, and then a producer. In 1974, he enrolled in the Russian State Institute of Cinematography (VGHI) in Moscow, where he was Tarkovsky's prize student, and from which he graduated in 1979. Up to then, his work consisted of documentaries and short subjects, which were criticized by his teachers as being anti-Soviet. His first feature-length film, The Lonely Voice of Man, made in 1978, was first shown only in 1987. This film impressed Andrei Tarkovsky, who sponsored his entry into the prestigious Lenfilm Studio. Sokurov's films were often censored, but this did not deter him, as he made the films he liked, regardless of the film critics' and of the public's reactions. Sokurov's films have for subject matter the spiritual nature of man, as exemplified by his trilogy, The Second Circle (1990), Stone (1992), and Whispering Pages (1993). But it is with Mother and Son (1997) that he definitely took his place among the leading international film directors. Sokurov created his own cinematographic style, and continued to make the types of films he liked, regardless, experimenting with the images (Molock/1999, and Taurus/2000). His Russian Ark (2002) is a cinematographic tour de force, but nothing else. Sokurov's next film, Father and Son (2003), continues a trilogy started with Mother and Son. His last film, Solze-The Sun (2005), was presented at the Berlin Film Festival.

Synopsis

The film opens on two human forms, which soon reveal themselves to be that of a young man and a frail, old woman. They recline in a silence penetrated only by whispers and indistinguishable noises. The young man is the son (Alexei Ananishnov) who is taking care of his exhausted, sick mother (Gudrun Geyer). Her illness is undefined and from time to time causes her great pain as she gasps for air. Her son combs her hair, feeds her, covers her with a coat, and takes her in his arms. She is totally dependent on him as he himself was once totally dependent on her. As the film progresses, the son carries his mother on a long journey, from her sick-bed to her death-bed. It is a circular motion, which travels a long walk through a dream-like landscape in the countryside, along winding dirt roads. At each of their brief stops on the journey is a moment of contemplation, caresses, and tender murmurs. These soft murmurs tell of the mother's love for her son when she was nurturing him and of the son's love for his mother as he opens for her the mysterious path to her death. They progress under the leaden and luminous sky of the Baltic, in totally isolated landscapes, except for an occasional far away train or a sail on the sea, emphasizing further their isolation from the rest of the world

They return to the house. The son tenderly lowers his mother into her bed, which now seems to resemble a coffin. Both know that the end is nearing, although he tries to reassure her of the contrary. He leaves her for a time and goes for a long, solitary walk. When he returns, his mother may have died.

The Production

The first impression one has upon viewing Sokurov's film is of formal aesthetic parallels with Tarkovsky's cinematography. This is not surprising, since Sokurov was Tarkovsky's best student at VGIK. Tarkovsky can be detected as a major source of Sokurov's inspiration, for example, in Sokurov's long takes (sometime longer than Tarkovsky's), his free use of natural sounds, and the unaffectedness of his actors. Both directors concern themselves with philosophical questions of the human existence and strive to express the inner reality of their beings. However, Sokurov's world is not Tarkovsky's. Whereas Tarkovsky' main characters are spiritually oppressed, they struggle to overcome and escape their fates, the characters in Sokurov's films are resigned to and accepting of their oppression. We might say that Tarkovsky's cinema is one of striving toward spiritual liberation, whereas Sukorov's cinema is one of enduring spiritual submission.

In Mother and Son , one is struck above all by the rather unusual cinematography, starting with the very first images following the credits. A young man and a sick old woman are reclining together, their bodies elongated and distorted through the director's use of an anamorphic lens. They lay motionless for almost a minute, until the son moves his lips, and we realize that we were not looking at a still picture, but at the beginning of a long take, which will last more than five minutes. The scene has the flatness of a painting instead of the usual three-dimensionality of films.

Indeed, Mother and Son is a "picture-film," where the images, the perspectives are routinely distorted and flattened to two dimensions. Sokurov's intentions are clear so far has he is striving to give his film the appearance of an icon or of a religious painting of the Quattrocento. Sokurov acknowledges that his filming of Nature has been influenced by the great romantic German painter, Casper David Friedrich. I would also add that some of the indoor scenes, in particular the opening one, reminds one of the founder of the German expressionist school, Edvard Munch. The distortion of the characters' physiques and the claustrophobic atmosphere of the room reeking of death also contribute to this identification with Munch's most famous paintings and engravings.

All through this production, Sokurov distorts his images in various ways, using panes of glass placed in front or to the side of the lens, mirrors, and even paint on the camera lens itself. Through these effects, the characters, objects, and nature appear "compressed" and distorted, which then serves as a metaphor for the turmoil of the soul. This turmoil is exacerbated further by the sense of a timelessness which permeates the film. Time seems suspended by the stillness of the characters. The long takes (there are fifty-eight shots in a film which runs for seventy-three minutes) also give a sense of stillness, which make us lose all sense of time. Do the events take place over hours, days, or months? The whole story could have almost taken place in real time, but we cannot say for certain.

Mother and Son is almost a silent film. The silence which prevails for most of the film is deepened by discrete, natural sounds emanating from beyond the screen, accentuating the sense of isolation from the rest of the world: running water, thunder, wind, bird calls, etc. In this respect, Nature is an important character, visually as well as aurally. The appearance of a steaming train or of a sailboat far in the distance only serves to remind us of the isolation of these two characters. These natural sounds are mixed together with some very subtle original music by Mikhail Ivanovich, together with a few musical segments from Mikhail Glinka and Otmar Nussio. The dialogue is spare, consisting of occasional short exchanges, often whispered, between mother and son. These exchanges can hardly be considered conversation. The characters have gone beyond talking to express their thoughts and inner feelings to each other: as indicated in the beginning of the film, they even have the same dreams. No philosophical discussions on the meaning of love or death ever arrive to reinforce what is evident through the imagery.

Finally, one will notice that the two actors are non-professional: Alexei Ananishnov is "in real life" a mathematics professor, and it is the only film ever made by Gudrun Geyer, who had no previous acting experience. The characters in the film are present, but they are not acting. This is in keeping with Sokurov intentions to relate an experience and not a story.

Mother and Son has been the recipient of many awards, including the Special Award of the Ecumenical Jury at the 47th International Film Festival in Berlin (1997); the Andrei Tarkovsky Award; the Russian Film Critics Award; and the Special Jury Prize at the Moscow International Film Festival (1997). It was also nominated for the Nikas Award (1998) for the Best Photography (Alexei Fedorov), and Best Sound Design (Vladimir Persov)

Themes

Mother and Son 's themes are about one of the deepest relationships which can exist on the Earth, the love between a mother and her son, and the solitude of the death experience. The film explores the remaining moments between the son and his mother on her unavoidable ultimate journey. Nothing else exists for these two characters, about whom we know nothing. Sokurov does not reveal anything about their past, nor about their future. The present moment on their road together toward the doors of death is the only subject of importance. They are as one being in a strange, lonely, but beautiful world. But this intimate relationship will soon be rent asunder by Death, and Sokurov shows us that in spite of their close love relationship, in the end death is still a personal, private, isolating experience for both of them. As the mother drifts in and out of consciousness, the son's attitude as he faces the inescapable end goes from somewhat cheery and reassuring in front of his conscious mother, to total anguish and desperation when he is alone in the woods.

If the journey of these characters is a mystical experience, it is not a religious one. God is never mentioned nor alluded to. In one scene, where the mother is having an attack, rumbling thunder is heard in the background. She cries in anguish, "Who is that up there in the sky?" Her son answers, "Nobody." So, Sokurov denies a deity, but not some indeterminate afterlife: in the film's ultimate scene, the son whispers softly to his unconscious mother, "We will meet where we agreed. [...] Be patient, dear Mother, wait for me."

But the film's ending is still ambiguous, as Sokurov leaves open the possibility that the mother is still alive when the son returns from his walk. In the scene just before the son leaves the house, his mother lies in her bed-coffin, a white butterfly rests on her fingers. In many cultures, from the Christian Irish to the Baluba from central Zaire, the soul of a person emerges from the cocoon (the grave) and flies away in the form of a butterfly. Sokurov leaves us guessing at the end of the film: on the mother's gray, emaciated hand, the butterfly is still there.

Mother and Son is an experience much more than it is a film. We are confronted with a continuum of painted scenes, as we would in any museum. We are drawn into each scene as we would be drawn into each painting, reflecting on content which raises in us a myriad of emotions -- some from long ago, forgotten -- or provokes new reflection. All of these emotions appear and disappear in dream-like fashion and in so doing, we partake in the mystery and complexity of the love between a mother and her son.

This is the review of the DVD published by Winstar TV and Video, Inc. The projection format is not indicated, but 16:9 seems to be the correct one. The film is in color. The spoken language is Russian, with removable English subtitles. The film runs for 73 minutes. There are no extras except for Sokurov's filmography.