A Case for Russian Cinema
Ukrainian homes and Ukrainian lives are lost daily. There is ten-ton sorrow weighing on the world, and the world is doing its best to push back on Putin’s arrogance. On March 1st, in President Biden’s State of the Union speech, he announced the freezing of Russian bank accounts on a global scale, closing off U.S. airspace to Russian flights, and plans to seize the properties of Russian oligarchs, following the statement with a menacing, ominous riff over the applause: “[Putin] has no idea what's coming.”
These are all efforts to drive Russia out of Ukraine, efforts which hurt both citizens and government. There has been an influx of xenophobic ideas and actions that are being promoted as good ways to “fight” Russia, but don’t create any upsides. These counterproductive ideas come in the form of a Russian culture embargo, whether that be sobering off of Russian vodka or sobering off of Russian operas.
Provocateur, raconteur, and restaurateur Keith McNally is as uniquely passionate as he is uninformed. “Balthazar,” one of McNally’s New York restaurants, “will not be selling Stolichnaya vodka until the war in Ukraine is over,” a recent instagram caption reads. McNally isn’t the only taste-maker finding a way out of Stoli. There are droves of bartenders and homebound sots alike pouring out their Russian vodkas, standing in supposed solidarity. These seem to be solid efforts, but as is inherent with any food product today, there is more to a brand than the name on the packaging. While researching a food or drink company will usually highlight how they abuse their workers and have homophobes on their payroll, the research of Stolichnaya vodka provides another perspective. “The Stoli vodka brands and its owner Yuri Shefler were exiled from Russia nearly two decades ago,” the company’s landing page reads, “I have personally experienced persecution by the Russian authorities and I share the pain of Ukraine and its people,” noted Mr. Shefler. What we’re looking at here is a Latvian-based vodka company that has been exiled from and persecuted by Russia, being treated as Russian and effectively blamed for that nationality.
This removal of Russian culture goes beyond pouring out vodka. The Polish National Opera canceled their performance of ‘Boris Godunov,’ a 19th century opera of a 16th century man. A California representative suggests expelling all Russian exchange students.
These sideways, half-hearted embargos turn a moment of prim PR into an act of xenophobia. By shutting down avenues for culture and communication, these Russian students are taught that they are the enemy, regardless of their views. The opera becomes a piece of Russian propaganda by being canceled, making the statement that any and all manifestations of Russian culture are malevolent and cannot be shown.
Even more humbling is to take one more step back and look at the nation we read and write from. The United States has gone into colonizing wars with countless countries, taking oil and taking lives. America has made deals and turned its cheek before and will continue to afterward.
This embargo isn’t always strictly cultural, and is the best action to take, unlike the scenarios above. A dancer leaves a Moscow Ballet group is the right thing to do, to get away from Russia in its totalitarianism. Breaking ties with Putin’s close circle* is also the right thing to do. As consumers, we can only hope to be as judicial as possible, putting everything on the table.
This is all to say, Russian silent film Man With a Movie Camera will be playing at the SLC on March 23 at 8 PM. The film was a groundbreaking moment in film editing, breathing new life into what the camera meant. The film stands for freedom of movement, a liberation of ideas, and allows filmmakers to see images as greater pieces of a whole idea, gaining meaning through their connection. Art is created as a reaction to what dictates life, and therefore can be seen as an honest outlook, no matter how marred it may be. There is always something to learn.
*This article is great at highlighting the hypocrisy, as seen in the quote, “[t]he melee around Putin’s musicians is following a familiar pattern: first, ignore the issue for as long as possible; then, join a moralizing stampede.”
Written by Rory Donohue
Art by Yanni Spanolios
