One of the great films to feature Charles Bronson's weathered, suspicious, fascinating face. Frequent collaborator Michael Winner floods the frame with Bronson's mug at all opportunities: it is a glorious thing.
The film launches with a virtuoso sequence informed by Jean-Pierre Melville, particularly LE SAMOURAÏ, but you couldn't get further from Alain Delon than Charles Bronson.
The plot is nothing too bracing. Although Winner and writer Lewis John Carlino get enthusiastic with subplotting and don't maintain the exquisite spareness of…
There's something here as far as an intriguing concept, but Byrkit and his cast unfortunately don't lift it beyond the appearance of a theatre company interpreting the works of Shane Carruth, attempting to jazz things up with tight shots and unearned jump scenes. The slow-burn execution means we get a lot of "what's that??" exclamations in the dialogue/improvisation before things actually start getting interesting two-thirds of the way in.
Marker grapples with and prods at notions of collectivism, the totalitarian artist, and ideological commitment in the Soviet Union, with director Aleksandr Medvedkin as his lens. Fascinated (and fascinating) without being hagiographical, and capable of grasping the sweep of history while never losing sight of the subject. An astonishing document.