(Kochegar) The Stoker
Russia
Directed by: Alexey Balabanov
Cinematography: Aleksandr Simonov
Story by: Aleksei Balabanov
Starring: Mikhail Skriabin, Iurii Matveev, Aleksandr Mosin
Review by Gareth Martin
Skryabin, the titular stoker, keeps alight, to the ceramic hearths in all the characters homes, its heat can be felt against the setting’s harsh Siberian cold. But what the fire itself represents is not so clear. A redemptive blaze? The pits of hell? Or just a place to dispose of the unwanted? In this film, equal parts satire and drama, the intention is not always clear.
It opens innocently enough, with the ancient Skryabin tending to his boilers beneath an unnamed Russian city, and chipping away, letter by letter, at the novel he is writing. But the arrival of a dark car reveals a suspicious foot, with a corpse attached. The stoker feeds his fires more than coal, disposing of bodies for the local mob. This first cremation runs beneath the film’s comings and goings, whether it’s those of the stoker, his daughter, or the mob, and it isn’t long before the violence has bubbled to the surface.
The 13th film from controversial Russian director Alexey Balabanov, The Stoker is expectably strange and energetic. Contrasting Skryabin in his odd purgatorial boiler house with his daughter’s candid nudity and raging fire, it quickly establishes a cheap and tacky atmosphere that dominates the film. This is helped in part by both the film’s unflattering cinematography and it’s intrusive soundtrack. A mix of Latin sounding guitars and Russian pop rock that keeps the pace of the film, the musical accompaniment creates a dissonance with the imagery that only adds to the atmosphere. The main theme does see some overuse though, and when it starts up for the fifth time on a montage of characters trudging through snow, it seems that the director is labouring his point.
These issues quickly disappear once you are introduced to the film’s carefully caricatured web of characters. Each one is performed and directed with enough detail to keep them believable, but also with a mischievous eye for satire. The scene where the mob boss’s daughter persuades him to kill her competition, while serving him dinner, is as funny as it is perverse. Not all elements are as well developed; the discussion of the Yakut minority’s place in modern Russia, or the power of the mob, are subjects that never feel fully developed, only hinted at throughout. This leaves the film a little light, but it’s breezy pace keeps things moving towards it’s wonderfully grim conclusion.
The finale is The Stoker’s true moment of genius, where a few sharp scenes of comedy, tragedy and violence eclipse the rest of the film entirely.
The Stoker Tells A Story About Bad Men
It also epitomises the way in which the film constantly threatens to descend into nonsense, but always manages to snatch your attention back through a brilliant piece of observation, or a morbidly funny moment. It’s an ending that almost tricks you into thinking that the whole film was as pitch-perfect, but it also leaves you wondering why it took so long to get there.
Despite it’s tendency to drift between key scenes The Stoker offers enough moments to make it worthwhile. It’s flat treatment of sex and violence, wonderfully tacky Russian mobsters and the odd stroke of genius all come together to create an atmosphere that while not always coherent, is certainly unique.
Gareth Martin is a freelance writer for art, films and games, he has recently started blogging at Jump Over The Age
Tagged: Alexey Balabanov, East End Film Festival, Film, Russia