Leviathan

Leviathan, nominated for the Oscar for Best Foreign Film, falls easily in the lineage of spiritually infused Russian art: from the novels of Fyodor Dostoyevsky to the films of Andrei Tarkovsky.

The layers of this film are many. Leviathan body-slams the corruption of the modern Russian state, with one brazen reference to current Russian President Vladimir Putin. But director Andrey Zvyagintsev, who says he is a Christian, has said in interviews that the film’s allusions to current events are secondary to its spiritual tale, an Arctic Book of Job.

The story follows Kolya, a mechanic in a decaying Russian town on the Barents Sea just south of the Arctic Ocean. The cinematography makes you feel as if you have lived there and know the feel of cold sea air in your hair. The corrupt mayor Vadim decides he wants Kolya’s property, an order which Kolya attempts to fight in court. The state, apparently the only thriving institution around, swiftly turns against him, his family, and his friends.

Kolya fights corruption where others shrug, but he’s an alcoholic, not someone to follow enthusiastically into battle. Like Dostoyevsky’s characters, the characters in Leviathan are victims of their own moral failings (the film is rated R for language, sexuality, and one scene of nudity) as much as they are victims of outside forces.

“Leviathan” refers to the force controlling Kolya’s destiny: the authoritarian government, or perhaps, an all-powerful God. At one point a drunk Kolya confronts a priest with his despair. The priest explains the story of Job to the vodka-soaked man, and quotes God’s answer to Job: “Can you pull in Leviathan with a fishhook?”

The genuine priest serves as a contrast to the cynical leadership of the local Russian Orthodox Church, which colludes with the mayor instead of serving beaten-down locals like Kolya. But those human powers are not all-powerful: Boys sneak off to drink beer in a crumbled church and locals use portraits of past Russian leaders for target practice.