Русский ковчег (Russian Ark) (2002)

Rarely have I ever been so unsure of what to think of a movie as I have with this. I just finished watching it, and I'll likely have to force myself to watch it again before making any final decisions.

Russian Ark, if nothing else, is a technical masterpiece of cinema. The film consists of one shot lasting more than an hour and a half, with a cast of thousands. The entire film is shot in a St. Petersburg museum (formerly the czar's winter palace). The movie serves largely as a museum tour, as well as a tour through a few centuries of Russian history.

Unfortunately, my knowledge of Russian history is limited primarily to the 20th century, and even there it's iffy. While I had no clue what the characters were discussing for most of the film, it's still a wonder to watch. There is a definite dream-like quality to the work.

There really is no plot to speak of. The narrative structure of the film begins with a narrator discussing an accident, and suddenly we are transported to Russia where 19th century party guests arrive at the museum. The camera serves as the eyes of the narrator, who is only seen by another mysterious traveler, an Italian, who in various scenes goes as unnoticed as the narrator.

The two travel through the museum, each room is a different, non-chronologically ordered period of Russian history. They discuss the Russian people, art, music and politics. All the while, the Italian lumbers about in the creepiest way possible, cornering helpless museum visitors and discussing Christianity with them.

The final "scene" is a magnificently filmed ballroom scene and a long procession down some lovely staircases and hallways with literally hundreds of extras all around. Again, this film is an absolute wonder to witness. I was nervous every time the cameraman had to go up and down stairs, with an irrational fear that he may trip at some point.

As a whole, I think I can safely recommend this film not just simply for its technical genius. It does move quite slowly at times; a great many scenes in the middle of the film consist largely of discussing certain aspects of paintings and who purchased them from who, but there is definitely enough interest to make you want to watch it until the end. Maybe after watching this I'll have the ambition to attempt to watch Bela Tarr's 7+ hour Sátántangó, which, according to Wikipedia, contains only around 150 shots for the entire work. Attempt is the key word there.