By: Yildiz Subuk, Staff Writer
Elem Klimov’s film tells the story of a boy named Flyora living in what is now Belarus. Located in a small village, the boy discovers a rifle which propels his eagerness to join his town’s resistance group, with a burning desire to fight against Nazi occupation. What follows, however, is Flyora’s immediate subjugation to the horrifying magnitude of war, fighting against an army with heavier firepower and brutality than his own.
Come and See is not just visceral in its depiction of war, but the argument the film presents leaves no room to debate the morality of war. To Klimov, war is not just traumatizing but completely pointless. There is no valour, honour, or patriotism when every aspect of Flyora is broken. He loses his humanity as a child, not even given the chance to properly explore any emotion outside of hatred and fear.
The film’s colour and atmosphere are dreamlike, yet each sequence feels inescapably real. It is almost as if the dream is deteriorating as the film moves forward. Come and See frames war as the decay of the human soul, its horror rooted in futility.
Dr. Strangelove Or: How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the Bomb (1964)
A group of insecure men sit in a war room, discussing the necessity of dropping an atomic bomb on the Soviet Union, possibly triggering mutually assured destruction. Stanley Kubrick’s satire captures how the idiocracy of men can quite literally destroy the world.
Set during the height of the Cold War, the film focuses more on discourse between characters than combat. The entire threat of nuclear annihilation can be traced to General Jack D. Ripper’s inability to accept that his inability to sexually satisfy his partners comes from his old age, as he blames the Soviets for poisoning the water, destroying everyday American life. This hilarious yet infuriating reasoning captures the essence of Dr. Strangelove. It is a deconstruction of the link between masculinity and destruction. War generals who aggressively remind each other of their powers, who treat the threat of mutually assured destruction as a game, are in charge of an entire world’s existence.
In today’s political climate, Kubrick’s film feels less like an exaggerated joke and more like a prophecy. As tensions of nuclear annihilation arise once again, Dr. Strangelove exemplifies that the real threat to our very existence are petty, insecure men detached from society, ready to press the big red button — because they can.
Director Andrei Tarkovsky’s work is best described as visual poetry, like watching a painting move, layers appearing bit by bit. Ivan’s Childhood tells the story of a young, nimble, and orphaned boy, living amidst the Nazi invasion of the Soviet Union, as he works as a scout, spying and gathering information for resistance groups.
The film’s imagery is what carries the story. The dialogue and action is minimal, as Tarkovsky lets the landscapes, and the framing of his characters within it tell the story. Ivan’s Childhood is a film that requires the viewer’s attention, and patience. Some of the most heartbreaking moments, like a soldier holding a girl over a small ditch as they laugh before an invasion, or Ivan discovering the building where his parents died, are conveyed through simple imagery, taking place in silence, or in a way where only the sounds of nature are heard, while dialogue is absent.
Through slowly engulfing the audience in the story, the film explores grief, and Ivan’s heartbreaking attempts to cope with the loss of his parents, disguised in the image of a young soldier. The film is a haunting visual masterpiece that parallels the beauty of nature and humanity with the backdrop of loss and violence.
