EVEN FASCISM CAN BE COLORFUL

John Klein

RU 386, Prof. Gillespie

April 5, 2004

2^nd Movie Review - Sideburns

"People call me a fascist. That’s just fine because fascism means UNITY, fascism means GOD, fascism means NATION!"

~Dmitrii Vasiliev, leader of NPF-Pamiat

One of the best scenes in Sideburns, Yuri Mamin’s satirical rant on the peril — and seduction — of fascism and militarism, deals directly with those overgrown muttonchops that stick out so profusely throughout the movie. The ASP, a gang of dedicated Pushkin worshippers (their name itself is an acronym for Pushkin’s full name), is having difficulty growing facial hair on par with their leaders, and decide to paste the cushioning of an old chair on their faces. Even the sole woman of the group asks permission to do the same; the two leaders happily oblige. It is a blisteringly funny and deep sequence that simultaneously calls to mind the antics of Monty Python while symbolically demonstrating both just how much Russian culture once relied on the collective mindset of its people and how much the ideals of the past still linger in the present.

Ah, if only the rest of Sideburns were so subtle.

In an uneven and overly long two-hour time frame, Mamin proposes many ideas about nationalism and the psychology of dictatorship, yet never seems to elaborate on any of these themes or create with any certainty the same black comedy of the previously mentioned scene. The two leaders of the ASP movement arrive in an unnamed city where the Capella, a Westernized gang of colorful, sex-crazed teenagers, controls the city through anarchy and chaos. On the opposing side are the Bashers, a slightly older and stronger crowd too convinced of their own morality and not smart enough to establish themselves. With the help of the visitors, this group soon becomes the ASP and, with the blessing of the authorities, obliterates the Capella; soon, however, they become a force so strong that even the police see them as a threat. With surrealist imagery and vibrant symbolism all over the place, as well as a frenetic editing pace, the movie desperately tries to satirize the myths of perestroika and totalitarianism, yet never finds a true center.

It does, however, start off very promisingly. The backdrop for the movie is told through the reporting of a journalist investigating the rival gangs, with a handheld camera illustrating the insanity created by the Capella. Their bright colors and pop rock music almost seem to draw the audience into the world of sex and drugs that the authorities of the film fight against, and for a time you aren’t sure whose side to take: that of those in charge censoring the Capella, or the free-spirited gang itself. And in a sense, that opposition to tyranny is exactly what director Mamin is espousing; when the ASP begins to shift from a moral keeper of the peace to a dictatorial gang imposing its ideals on the people around them, distorted wide-angle lenses blur all fields of vision around the characters and let us know, very vividly, that this distorted view of power is not the direction such a group should take to win the people over. Upward angles of Viktor, the main leader of the ASP (overacted to the fullest by Viktor Sukhorukov), combined with other wide-angle shots that distance him from everyone else in the frame, showcase his authority from afar while calling to mind his true lack of power. The ending exemplifies this very notion when the men of the ASP, in a near-ritualistic raid by the police, are relieved of their sideburns — their outward symbol of strength and masculinity — and reduced to mere weaklings among the true tyrants.

Had the movie ended there, it would have been decent enough. Forgetting the erratic cutting, the lack of focus (much of the events feel episodic and pointless), and the sometimes nauseating performances of much of the supporting cast (only Sukhorukov is remotely fun to watch), the cinematography and the plotline right up to that scene provide, however unconvincingly at times, an interesting and ambiguous look at the fear that surrounds totalitarianism and the myth that the "man behind the curtain" has more power as a figure than in reality. However, the movie continues for one final sequence. As the members of the ASP, stripped of all their dignity, are cast back out onto the streets, they re-emerge in a similarly militant fashion, this time quoting Mayakovsky instead of Pushkin. All subtlety disappears from the film’s satirical symbolism, as Mamin preaches that no matter how much the spirit of fascism is struck down, it will always reappear with the same ideals, but under a new guise.

However, by then Sideburns has become too exaggerated to be considered eloquent satire, yet too realistic and political to be considered parody. Someday, Russian films will have to take a stance on what they believe to be the future of their confused country. Until that time, even pasting second-hand hair — or ideals — on each other will not help the Russian people to come to terms with their nationality.

(**_ out of five)