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The Cherry Orchard (1999)
Better as a social case study than a film.
Obligatory disclaimer: I am not familiar with the traditions of the Russian stage. Whether this is the realization of Anton Chekhov's dream for his production or a terrible mockery of it, I have no idea.
Regardless of how it relates to the original format, however, it's clear that it stays a little truer to its roots than would be beneficial. The acting tends towards the stilted more often than not, and while the characters are allowed their respective personalities, they remain just that: characters. This could certainly be spun as subtle commentary on the restrictive social roles in Russia at the turn of the 20th century, but at that point, the only thing you'll be grabbing is straws.
What is relevant is the contemporary social commentary. Chekhov's play premiered a mere thirteen years before the Russian Revolution, when Russia's recently-formed capitalist class was making itself the nuisance that the Bolsheviks needed for their uprising. Represented in the film by the character of Lopahkin, his relationship with Madame Renevskaya echoes the growing power of the self-made wealthy over the gentry. The advice of the capitalist goes unheeded time and time again as sentimentality overrides rational decisions regarding the Renevskaya estate. The estate, symbolized by the cherry orchard, is the last remaining tie to the glory of nobility in Russia prior to emancipation in 1861.
While he's presented as the opposition to most of the primary characters, it's difficult to present Lopahkin as a villain. His actions are rational. He operates under no pretenses whatsoever. In fact, while this may be something lost in translation from play to film or simply to the march of time, it's difficult to sympathize in the least with the Revenskayas. Their departure from the manor is depicted as bitter and forlorn, but they had it coming the whole time. Attachment impedes progress, resulting in their downfall and disgrace as members of the nobility.
Thus, The Cherry Orchard is not a film meant to be watched on its own merit. A passing knowledge of Russian history in the 19th century is all but required to understand its message: possession of an estate means nothing when that estate brings in no money, for now, the forces of capitalism have overridden all but the oldest traditions in Russia. Even a lowly peasant can become the lord of an estate if they only have the material wealth for it.
Onegin (1999)
Onegin seems by-the-books by modern standards, but offers a glimpse into 19th century Russia.
Disclaimer for this review: the film is being judged on its own merits, not how accurately it adapts Pushkin's original novel-in-verse Eugene Onegin.
Onegin takes place in Russia at some time between the Patriotic War of 1812 against Napoleon and the abolition of serfdom in 1861. It follows the titular Russian nobleman, who is called to the backwoods from his lavish life in St. Petersburg when he inherits his uncle's estate. The story centers upon his alienation from the privileges of nobility and weariness with the customs that accompany his class. Those fond of tales of historical high-society courtship such as the more recent Downton Abbey will find Onegin to be worthwhile viewing. In fact, despite the animosity between France and Russia after the War of 1812, the prevalence of French in dress, mannerisms, and language means that this film could, if not for the names of the characters, be easily assumed to take place within the aristocracy of Paris.
While the original work Eugene Onegin was first published in 1833, 28 years before Tsar Alexander's emancipation of the serfs, Onegin muses upon the value of renting the land surrounding his estate and moving back to St. Petersburg rather than acting as its overseer. The idea is dismissed as absurd by his noble contemporaries, showcasing both Onegin's distaste for the traditions of his time and complete lack of concern for the opinion of his peers. This utter apathy is further revealed in Onegin's interactions with the neighboring noble family, particularly with the youngest daughter, Tatyana. Her older sister, Olga, is the fiancé of the poet Vladimir Lensky, and Onegin's disillusionment with the ideals expressed in Lensky's verse results in his alienation for all three. Even so, Tatyana confesses her adoration for the urbanite Onegin in a letter (addressed, as French was considered the language of sophistication in Russia at the time, to Monsieur Onegin). His answer to this admission comes only upon his reluctant acceptance of an invitation offered by Lensky. Onegin is told that it will be a small gathering for Tatyana's name day, but upon arrival finds that it is a full-scale ball, much like those that he had long ago grown tired of attending in St. Petersburg. As revenge against Lensky, Onegin dances with his fiancé Olga, resulting in her infatuation with the nobleman from St. Petersburg. Lensky is left furious as Onegin leaves the party to speak with Tatyana, coolly insisting that she abandon such childish notions as love before her innocence becomes her downfall. In return for Onegin's affront against him, Vladimir challenges him to a duel. Even when death is on the line, however, Onegin refuses to cooperate with the traditions of nobility, arriving to the duel late and appointing a servant as his second. Despite this, Lensky continues with the duel, resulting in his death. After this. while it is never shown on-screen, Onegin spends the next seven years traveling the world. When he returns, attending a ball much like those from before he departed for his uncle's estate, he finds that Tatyana has been married. Following the ball, he finds her at her home and insists that he was wrong to reject her. However, she rejects him much as he did after her confession, leaving the despondent Onegin to stand on the streets of St. Petersburg.
As is fitting for a film based upon a poem, the visual imagery is striking. The cynical Onegin's meetings with idealist poet Vladimir Lensky more often than not take place on a dock by a lake. The stirring of the lake in the wind reflects the growing resentment between the two, culminating in their duel on that dock under an overcast sky. After meeting Tatyana for her name day celebration, she and Onegin retreat to a somewhat dilapidated shed away from the manor, the peeling paint a stark contrast to the lavish ball they have excused themselves from. With that departure from the rules imposed by an aristocratic setting comes Onegin's cuttingly forthright rejection of Tatyana. Upon Onegin's return to St. Petersburg, the lighting in the ball where he meets the married Tatyana reflects the ballet he attended at the introduction of the film, creating a literary framing effect. inclusion of a coffin in the frame as Onegin departs down the snowy, overcast street reflects the figurative death of Onegin's hopes and dreams.
While not an exceptionally profound story, the characters of Onegin are handled well, as is essential for any drama, and offer an adequate glimpse into not only the social context of 19th century Russia but its philosophical quandaries of self-definition in the face of social constraints.