Andrei Zvyagintsev recently told The Guardian that ‘living in Russia is like being in a minefield’. If his latest film is any reflection of reality, then it’s safe to say that he was putting it mildly.

Boris (Alexei Rozin) and Zhenya (Maryana Spivak) are not in a happy marriage. In fact, both already have new sexual partners, and languish in their cold shared flat waiting for the particulars of divorce to set them free from the shackles that bind them. Of more contention, however, is their son – Alyosha (Matvey Novikov). Depending on your reading of the subtext, he’s both the cause of their marriage and the cause of the divorce, or just a resentful byproduct of a failing relationship. Undoubtedly, however, neither parent wants him. A particular scene, in which they discuss putting him into care, with more than a hint of sadistic glee – only for Zvyagintsev to reveal that he’s standing just round the corner, face frozen, slick with tears in open-mouthed horror, is one of the most distressing things you’re likely to see for a while.

Zvyagintsev’s film is not about Russia, it is Russia.

One morning, when Zhenya goes to wake her son, she discovers a terrible fact: he’s missing. Not just missing, in fact, but vanished into thin air. Now she must navigate into the void of loss with a husband she doesn’t love, in a country whose infrastructure seems constructed around evasion and apathy. Will the pair find their boy? And, more importantly, do they want to?

The crux of Loveless would appear to be its title. At first, one might conclude that it refers to the vacuum of passion between Boris and Zhenya. But, then, as the missing child story comes into focus, it seems to refer to the lack of affection Alyosha’s parents have for him – and how their neglect led to his disappearance. Yet, even this interpretation can’t stick around for long. The apathetic police, the standoffish search-and-rescue teams, the oppressive bosses, the spectre of religion, and the office vigilantes all begin to add up to a three-dimensional tapestry of an unhealthy society: in the vein of Coppola, Zvyagintsev’s film is not about Russia, it is Russia. Here, he appears to be saying, is a country and a culture possessed of such indifferent malice that it can swallow up a young pearl of innocence, leaving no trace. The heartbreaking final frame only serves to heighten the sense of desperation.

a necessary piece of work which begs for cultural change

It’s a hard piece of work to watch: at times unbearably sad, and hopeless throughout. There are hints that Alyosha’s ordeal is far from unique: mangled corpses of children show up in hospitals across the area – inconsequential, mutilated reminders of societal oppression and neglect. But, if Zvyagintsev is being honest with us – then it’s a necessary piece of work which begs for cultural change.

Loveless is a dark, eerie, and tragic piece of work operating under a total eclipse of positivity. There’s nothing to enjoy here, and very little to say when the credits roll – but therein lies its power. It’s a masterfully made portrait of sorrow – a horrific depiction of life in an oppressive culture and an elegy for the things that make us human. It’ll be opening in a niche market – nobody wants to pay money to feel this shit – but if you do decide to catch it, its elemental force is seriously impressive.


4/5

Image: Zvyagintsev 2017

James Witherspoon
Freelancer, UCL Law Student, and movie geek living the life in London! Can be found in the corner of some obscure coffee shop, muttering about how Christopher Nolan is overrated…

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