“We are free, you and I. Dream away.”

  Never before had someone attempted a full length film done in one take. That is, until Russian Ark. Released at the Cannes Film Festival in 2002 and directed by Alexander Sokurov, Russian Ark feels like one long fever dream. It is, as Sokurov himself puts it, a film shot in “one breath.” Filmed at the Hermitage Museum in St. Petersburg, the film is an homage to Russian culture, taking the viewer through the museum's halls and, consequently, through time. Though catering to a niche audience, Russian Ark captivates with its lulling and dreamy style of cinematography, gorgeously displayed historic backdrops, and nuanced commentary on Russian culture, leaving the audience feeling like they’ve lept inside another world. Russian Ark is a film not meant to inform, but to be a celebration of Russia’s deep and complex history. 

  The movie begins on a snowy winter’s eve when a party of men and women dressed in 19th century clothing enter the Hermitage Museum to attend a ball hosted by Emperor Alexander I. The narrator, who we always view through the first person, has just woken from an “accident” and realizes he is in a different time period and is invisible to the people surrounding him. He then meets another outsider, French Nobleman Marquis de Custine, who is full of disdain for Russian people. As they wander the halls of the Hermitage, each room they enter manifests as a different period of 300 years of Russian history. 

  The filming of Russian Ark began on a snowy winter’s morning in 2001. Sokurov’s goal? “To make a film in one breath.” The day was December 23, the shortest day of the year, and it was the only day they had rented out the museum to film. If the cameraman, Tillman Buttner, tripped or one of the 2,000 actors forgot their lines, they would have to start all over again. The first two filming attempts failed, and with only enough camera battery and daylight left for one more take, they tried again. With a little bit of luck and a lot of planning, the third attempt was a success. In fact, the film had taken four years of planning, initially intended to be a small documentary before settling on the hour-and-a-half-long narrated feature. One may ask why the “one-breath” aspect of the film was necessary, but Sokorov’s choice not to film Russian Ark in a montage style creates a dream-like, entrancing effect. The purpose of filming in one continuous shot is the emphasis on duration and longevity, making the viewer hold their breath, wondering why we are stuck here and what it all means. Each edit or cut in the movie would awaken the audience from this effect. 

Taking a closer look at the film, one can view the Russian Ark as a ship filled with artifacts of Russian culture, trying to survive the harsh waters of a changing political climate. Even the movie poster pictures the Hermitage Museum being drowned in a stormy sea. The “accident” at the beginning of the movie may be symbolic of the fall of the Soviet Union, during which Russia went through an identity crisis, caught between democratic Europe and communist Asia. Russian Ark attempts to answer this by taking the narrator, who represents Russia itself, on a journey to examine its history, hoping that by looking at the past they will find an answer to their future. The Marquis stands as a constant reminder of Russia’s attempts to imitate Europe, saying they cannot appreciate beauty and elegance as he does, evident by the European artwork that adorns the museum. Sokorov’s ability to subtly include both praise and criticism in his film, yet still keeping its concept relatively simple is what makes it so unique.

Russian Ark is Sokurov’s response to the question, “What is Russia?” The film draws us in with its “one breath” filming style and uses the museum as a metaphor for Russia’s turbulent past. We see gorgeous backdrops of masked dancers and floor-to-ceiling paintings, but underneath it all, we know the true fate of the nation. In the back of our minds, we picture the bloody revolution and Russia’s economic depression in the years that followed.  Though only a small portion of audiences may understand the historical context of some of the scenes, Sokorov’s choice not to sacrifice its meaning to appeal to mass audiences leaves us with a film that is both pleasing to watch and absurdly ironic in its meaning.