Daniel McDonald

Post-Soviet Russian Cinema

12/05/2008

Continuing to explore the theme of the Russian relationship with the West that permeates films like Taxi Blues, Lilya-4-Ever, and Russian Ark, director Yuri Mamin’s Window to Paris advances an unlikely thesis. Rather than simply accusing the West of tainting Russian purity or blaming Soviet sensibilities for suppressing creativity and art, Mamin’s film demonstrates to the audience that both Europe and Russia are flawed and that the each country must be allowed to develop on its own, free from the damaging presence of the other.

At first, the Russian family that shares their apartment with Nikolai seems content with life in Russia. They laugh, and sing in cramped but cozy rooms while encouraging the protagonist to quit his job and join them, making pianos by day and drinking and playing music by night. At the school, this same general optimism exists, as Nikolai’s smiling students dance through the hallways to the sound of his fife and sit in rapt attention as he reads to them by candlelight. While problems, like the looming end of the aesthetics class, exist, they seem surmountable in the face of general good cheer.

Upon entering through the window to Paris however, the Russians quickly change their foundational outlook. Instead of remaining content with the life that they left behind, Nikolai’s housemates begin to perform in the street and bring Western goods back through the portal in a mad dash to make the most they can of their temporary good fortune. For the children, Paris is a wonderland, full of toys and bright colors, for which they would leave their families and the comforts of home. In both cases, the allure of the city largely destroys the characters’ satisfaction with their own home, and allegorically, the potential exodus of the children suggests that the temptations of the West threaten to strip Russia of any hope for her future.

The poisoning influence of the West is not one-sided, however, as the French artist Nicole suffers a great deal, both in Russia and in Paris, thanks to the overlapping of the two worlds. At first, Nikolai and Gorokhov destroy much of her apartment when they drunkenly enter to tune her piano. Later, the Russians destroy her peace of mind by yelling boisterously at all hours and entering her apartment without welcome. Nicole’s suffering peaks, however, when she enters into Russia, only to be locked outside on the street and eventually imprisoned: cold, wet and helpless. Though she eventually escapes with the help of Nikolai, she clearly remains an outsider, as the hallways and rooms of the musician’s apartment that once seemed cozy and full of cheer appear dark and cold around her.

Window to Paris is not an attempt on Mamin’s behalf to point an accusatory finger either at Russia or at the West, but rather a statement about the successes and flaws of both and a message for the future of Russia. Through this film, he shows the viewers both how ill-suited the simple Soviet types are to a world of decadence, and how unprepared Western sophisticates are to confront those more rough and direct than themselves. Only Nikolai seems to understand what the future must hold for his people in a lesson allegorized in the closing scene. Like the slow work of bringing down the wall, he realizes that Russians must diligently develop their own sense of identity and culture, rather than simply immerse themselves the most hedonistic aspects of another’s. In light of the rampant drug use, prostitution, and materialism in Russia today however, it would seem that Mamin’s vision will slip away if his people cannot learn to close the window.