Page 113 - Alternative Europe Eurotrash and Exploitation Cinema Since 1945
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fragile normalcy of life. The final montage episode infers the perpetuation of Russian intelligentsia's
        compulsion to repeat its messianic and self-destructive delusions, and features 'comrades' Malevich,
        Rodchenko andTatlin, the soon-to-be also wiped out masters of the  1920s avant-garde art.
           It  is easy to identify the principles  of Eisenstein's  'montage of attractions'  in  the clash of charged
        visuals, symbolising the confrontations of old and new, high and low art, art and life, rich and poor,
        but also the binary oppositions of the Russian  Idea.  On  the one hand,  the fragile aesthetic universe
        epitomised by Kholodnaya's decadent beauty and  Malevich's portentous  Black Square is part of the
        'noumcnal world,  which  is creativity'. The egalitarian  ethics of the  rebellious masses of workers  and
        peasants,  on  the  other hand,  are  manifestation  of the  'phenomenal world,  which  imposes marerial
        objects as  limitations  of human  freedom'.31 Thus  Kovalov illustrates  Berdyaev's  tenet  that  in  Russia
        (and in the Soviet Union)  it is religion  (or ideology)  and philosophy, and not economics and politics
        that determine  the history of society.
          It is  no  coincidence  that Tepzov  and  Kovalov's  films  are  produced  by the  St.  Petersburg's  film
       studios, take place in St.  Petersburg and its vicinities and are directed by local directors. Lenfilm has
       traditionally enjoyed the reputation of being ideologically the more open studio, and St. Petersburg is
       the home of the so-called first, or perestroika, avant-garde (1984-89).  Its most notorious and radical
       trend was necrorealism, founded by Evgeni Jufit, the uncontested leader of Leningrad's underground.
       In  1985  he  made  Hospital  Attendants-Werewolves,  considered  a  manifesto  of  the  necrorealist
       naturalistic-nihilistic aesthetics. In 1991 he made his first feature film, Papa, umer ded Moroz (Daddy,
       Father Christmas Is Dead) - a sadomasochistic tale of psychological perversion and physical mutation.
       In spite of their suggestive titles and subject matter,  these works are not horror films per se but rather
       satirical  social  metaphors  featuring  'the official  "zombies"  of the  Brezhnev era  ...  the  "necrophiliacs
       and corpses" of post-Soviet life, a "world of walking dead". These are cult movies, seen by very few

       people'.32
          This trend was taken further by two other St. Petersburg films:  Upyir (Vampire, Sergei Vinokurov,
       1997)  and  Okraina  (Outskirts,  Pyotr  Lutsik,  1998).  Both  are  postmodern  pastiches  of  popular
       (Western) horror themes, employing bodily horror. The former was scripted by Dobrotvorsky himself
       in his efforts to facilitate the emergence of'[the]  indigenous horror genre  [responding]  to the current

       fast  re-orientation  from  the  collective  towards  the  personal  encounter with  existential  problems'.33
       The film is about a post-Soviet provincial town, most of whose citizens have turned into vampires (i.e.
       New  Russians)  and a handsome vampire-destroyer - a latterday hero  (Alexei  Serebryakov)  - is sent
       for to  cleanse it.  Unfortunately,  in spite of the long Slavic vampire  tradition and  the original  music
       by the famous group  Tequilajazz, the film is too brainy to be scary and too straightforward to become
       an elaborate metaphor of the post-Communist individuation. According to one of the sternest critics
       of the film 'the individual has ...  not yet succeeded in separating himself from the social mass', which
      is the conditio sine qua non for the emergence of real heroes and traditional genre cinema. 34 In other
      words,  good  and  evil,  the  self and  the  other,  the  rational  and  the  irrational  still  remain  nebulous
      collective entities without an articulated cinematic iconography.
         In  a  manner  reminiscent  of Kovalov's,  the  late  Pyotr  Lutsik  identifies  as  powerful  sources  of
      horror rhe collapsing boundaries between the collective and the individual, capitalism and socialism,
      the old and the new. In a paradoxical reversal of post-Communist loyalties,  the source of the uncanny


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