review of the film “A Man and a Woman” – a tasteless almanac about the hardships of personal life

Most modern domestic filmmakers at least try to accept changes in reality. Now we are talking about exclusively social circumstances: gender roles are changing, personal boundaries are taken more seriously, psychological traumas are being worked through whenever possible, and all this is reflected on the screen. But there are those who deny progress, being twenty years late with the film’s narrative. Vladimir Kott’s painting “A Man and a Woman” will definitely not be included on a modern ship: the title confidently flirts with the painting of the same name by Claude Lelouch, but makes a bow to the classics in vain.

Pavel Derevianko in a frame from the film “Man and Woman”

“A Man and a Woman” is a two-hour almanac of short stories dedicated to the relationships between spouses, exes, strangers and even neighbors in the stairwell. Surprisingly, it is the last ones on the list who seem to be the only truly poignant heroes – their silent embrace speaks for itself. The rest of the meetings force you to double-check the year on the calendar. For example, the hero of Pavel Derevyanko comes to the village to sell the house of his deceased grandmother, and meets his former lover played by Irina Pegova. Spends the night with her – and now the house is no longer for sale. This plot is more suitable for a series on “Russia 1”, but does not fit in with the director who directed the quite successful comedy duology “Naughty”.

Tatyana Matyukhova in a frame from the film “Man and Woman”

But, apparently, Vladimir Kott’s soul remained somewhere on the Domashny TV channel: he captures the roads of Moscow to the song of Mikhail Shufutinsky and creates characters so primitive that suddenly their actions are explained by ordinary narrow-mindedness. The short stories are intended for a wide audience, but here’s the caveat: the director clearly underestimates the viewer if he believes that the majority will justify the brutal beating of his wife. If the main part of the scenes can be attributed to Kott’s attempt to be “his own” to the viewer, then the episode with Stepan Devonin and Anna Kotova is out of the ordinary. In the story, He and She are sitting at the kitchen table, and the wife admits word for word that she never loved him, flew to Turkey with someone else, but most importantly, the child is also not her husband’s own. The husband, who was sitting with an unchanging, indifferent face of humility, suddenly turns into a swamp monster (no, this is not a metaphor) and brutally beats the woman – they say she deserves it.

Anna Kotova in a frame from the film “Man and Woman”

And at some point I want to believe that Kott is simply being ironic: the hero of Kirill Kyaro cannot argue absolutely seriously that in his life there was a woman who was ideal in everything – it’s a pity, she snored, she had to get a divorce. Or Boris Kamorzin, in the guise of a life-weary policeman, first swears at his wife for making too much noise (she is a piano teacher who gives lessons at home), and after the sudden death of his wife, he admits that he is simply a disabled person at home. But it turns out that Cott is not funny enough for irony, and therefore “Man and Woman” is covered with a touch of moralizing and moralizing. Undoubtedly, this picture will have its viewers who adhere to the same life principles as Cott. But for those who consider themselves progressive, the almanac will seem at least outdated, and at worst, justifying domestic violence, treating a woman as an object and confirming the opinion that every lady needs a knight.

Vladimir Kott made “A Man and a Woman” out of his time, in the worst sense. Perhaps twenty years ago many people would have found such short stories funny and touching, maybe even dramatic. Today they look tasteless, offensive and archaic. While most people come to the conclusion that the union of two people grows stronger thanks to well-built communication, Cott finds it necessary to ridicule the lack of proper conversation and the ensuing consequences. For a filmmaker, denying progress is like remaining a fly in the amber of outdated morals. The almanac can be called the last (I would like to believe) mammoth of the era, where a man and a woman were closer to the ideals of Domostroy than to real life.

Text:
Naya Guseva