Tchaikovsky’s Wife – at first it may seem incongruous that Kirill Serebrennikov (Petrov’s Flu & LETO) – a parodist of contemporary Russia and two-year victim of a politically motivated house arrest who now lives in exile, would tackle an iconic Russian figure who’s central to understanding the nation’s cultural identity. At first it may also seem like an edge that’s been sanded. Okay, the corpse of the great composer Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky (played by Odin Biron), sits up in his coffin and addresses his wife, Antonina Miliukova (played by Alyona Mikhaylova), in the opening few minutes, but after that we’re in familiar stately territory.
This is a polished biopic that’s ready for Netflix and the quick columnist think pieces like how male genius is prized over the well-being and even sanity of women, how we write the complicated personal failings of great dead white artists out of their own biographies, or even the ongoing suppression of homosexuality in Russia. There are hints and little touches that something stranger and more subversive, like a persistently prominent big black fly that buzzes about and lands on faces at telling moments, or an obscene beggar who rends Antonina’s garments in a religious frenzy while ranting about sexual betrayal.
Roughly halfway through we’re suddenly watching two films, one possible-impossible and the other, the work existing up to this point in reality. Serebrennikov is a brave and talented film-maker who has begun his work in the margins, and is now placing scenes in opposition. First we have a composed but fidgety sequence featuring awkward museum academia (for the most part), and much like a number of scenes throughout the first half of the movie, it feels subdued and restless, like it’s not exactly breathing much. Then the camera takes off to discover important visual and narrative information that shows the realities of 19th-century Russia, and allows these details to melt and blur into an almost impressionistic scene.
It’s easy to imagine the film slipping away entirely without the brilliant Alyona Mikhaylova to anchor it, and to excel in both its modes.
There are in-jokes slipped in to film (prominent Russian rapper Oxxxymiron plays the role of Rubinstein, and why not?), along with some irreverence about Serebrennikov’s previous film Petrov’s Flu emerging, but not swamping, the intensely felt eradication of Antonina. After being misled into a sham-marriage built on the promise of economic exploitation and the burial of persistent rumours, Antonina is determined to retain her status as she believes it to be the only thing in the world that she can proudly lay claim to. Serebrennikov finds a way to express psychology by freeing himself from the medium of textbooks or the ubiquitous ‘revealing’ conversation, and instead allows time, space and action to run together – much like in a memory, with his artistry being shown in long-take ellipsis and the track. We still can’t claim our steadicam Ophuls though, as the sensation of tragic weight and tender fate is still missing.
It’s not a total success, and it’s easy to imagine the film slipping away entirely without the brilliant Alyona Mikhaylova to anchor it, and to excel in both its modes. When the film is conventional she’s above it, and when it’s a dream, experiment, or a study in feeling, she’s not only its humanity, but also its icon. She lingers longer than the travels through cold, bare rooms, the cruelty of Tchaikovsky, the bursts of some of his minor compositions on the soundtrack (the greatest hits are wisely omitted), the streets of fire, and even the final dance through mocking eroticism and a house of lies.
Tchaikovsky’s Wife is playing in Selected Cinemas Nationwide from 29th December
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Archive – Tchaikovsky’s Wife
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