Who payed the critics

Instead, you get a movie that's enjoyable enough, but leaves you feeling like it could have been much, much more.

This movie was so-so. It had it's moments, but wasn't the greatest.

The storyline feels a little thin and moth-eaten in parts but this sequel is plenty of fun.

The two and a half hour run time didn't seem like much, given how absolutely captivated I was by the breathtaking images in this film. Many of the shots were so beautiful, and more importantly, meaningful, that they reminded me of some of the great oil paintings I've had the pleasure of observing as an art connoisseur. The scene of the children asleep on the train in their parents clutch portrayed a powerful sense of innocence and security, foreshadowing what feelings would soon be put to the test.. Or the shot of Vera in a virgin-blue colored dress, sitting in contemplation on her bed. The usage of color gives rise to a new definition of "pastoral": of the quality of a pastel. These being just two of many examples of how such stunning imagery works in the film's favor and remaining entirely relevant. Yes, the beauty of the film was even enough to keep me viewing, even when I started to lose my comprehension and understanding of what was going on in the final thirty minutes of the actual plot. When this occurred, I was left wondering if I was really so short sighted or if the director made something that was simply "complicated" and required a second viewing. Upon research and reflection, it appears there is nothing at all complicated about the story. If anything, the confusion was a result of how shrouded in mystery the wife's actions were. This, along with the sneakily added flashback scene at the end. It took a while to even realize I was watching a flashback and it was almost intentionally tricky to follow. This was frustrating as I had invested two hours of my time into the movie only to be thrown into a mild state of confusion at the last minute. But even if you agree to label the flashback criticism as my own inept comprehension, let me come back again to the real source of frustration: The wife's actions. I simply cannot fathom how anyone in their right mind (haha, I just realized mid sentence that maybe she WASN'T in her right mind). And, oh my god... I don't think the women in the adapted novel this was based off of was in her right mind either! Actually, of course she wasn't in her right mind! She killed herself and her baby for Pete's sake! This explains everything! *Please forgive my real time realizations mid-review, perhaps this will serve as more enjoyable or enlightening for any readers. I write these in part to enhance my own understanding.*When I first became aware Alex was in fact the biological father, I was in shock, and almost disgusted with frustration over how Vera told him that "it wasn't his." "How stupid could she be?" I thought? Why would she NOT deny Alex's misguided thought that she was adulterous? Who in their right mind would do such a thing?! And that's the AHA! moment! She WASN'T in her right mind at all! And that, my peers of the internet, solves the enigma that is frustrating even the most astute of reviewers. It is so simple actually...As simple as a shot of water coursing through dried-up Earth.And boy am I glad...because when I first saw this movie I was pouring over reviews trying to find reason and accountability for Vera. It took my own serious reflection with THIS written review to realize it. And...maybe I'm wrong? Maybe my realization is just as inept as my first-watch comprehension ability? But for me, my interpretation makes sense...With a reason discovered for Vera's actions, the movie's narrative becomes as beautiful as its cinematography... I recall one of my favorite movies ever, Tarkovsky's Zerkalo, to be in a similar vein: Demanding from it's viewer.

Those who have seen Russian director Andrei Zvyagintsev's first film "The Return" will have no trouble in realizing that his second film "Izgnanie" /"The Banishment" is equally impressive.However,his second film is little less effective despite having many themes in common with his first film.It can be surmised that it was due to intriguing focus on adults instead of children.This is exactly the reason why many a times viewers might get the impression that children are used merely as unavailing props.Astute viewers will also notice that many references to Tarkovsky are quite natural and self explanatory as Andrei Zvyagintsev is an honorable heir of that famous Russian school of cinema which prides itself in observing minute things in greater detail.It is true that a film maker must not give all answers to viewers but highhandedness of Andrei Zvyagintsev's direction failed to engage viewers.This is one reason why so many essential questions remained unanswered throughout the film.But this would surely not deprive any sagacious viewers to enjoy this extremely meaningful film with excellent focus on art direction especially in the manner interiors have been created.

In "The Return" we saw a citation from renaissance painting by Andrea Mantenia,"The Lamentation over the Dead Christ", which had been cited also by Tarkovsky in "Soryalis". Then we saw also black and white photography,resembling in texture to that in "The Mirror(Zerkolo)",and tracking back into the forest from open space with the water("The Mirror" and "Sacrifice"). All these citations or reminiscences naturally reminded us of Tarkovsky's cinematographic tradition. So it's not strange that Zvyagintsev was then mentioned as his successor. But in "Izgnanie" we can see also reminiscences of another,religious and one of the greatest director;Robert Bresson. Children with a little donkey from "Au hasard, Balthazar",the use of windows and doors as symbols of human isolation,framing of shots which make us feel not too close,not too distant form characters... As far as I remember, Bresson wrote about "ironed"shots as his ideal material for editing.For him,and for Zvyagintsev,cinema is not an instrument to "move" viewers' soul,but only a key, through which every viewer's mind must find the way to the higher Order. I would say that Bresson made religious novella in laconic prose, but Zvyagintsev makes religious fable with poetic language.In this time too, we see reminiscences of Tarkovsky(the composition and camera movement of the first shot,for example),but here an another tradition,which the director follows, is clearly shown.

There is a vast difference between being emotionally inert and being emotionally hollow. As much as Vozvrashcheniye (The Return, 2003) was intense, Andrei Zvyagintsev sophomore feature Izgnanie (The Banishment) is hollow. An emotional hollowness that engulfs us, holding us captive along with these tragic characters. I say captive because I so desperately wanted them to make things up, but our nature and the choices it sometimes leads us to make often renders the tragedy inevitable. There is a great deal of silence in the film; most of these moments between the husband Alexander (Konstantin Lavronenko) and the wife Vera (Maria Bonnevie). As long as a relationship is having constant arguments of any kind, I believe, it is still far from the rocky paths. But once silence creeps in it usually will signal the point of no return. Izgnanie starts off with a great shot of a car running along a picturesque landscape of the Russian country. Mark (Aleksandr Baluyev) drives to his brother Alexander's home in the middle of the night where he has his upper-arm suffering from a gun shot wound fixed, and the bullet taken out. The very next day, Alex and his family, relocate to their countryside home amidst the breathtaking serenity of the scenery. Yet, these people are banished from country (Garden of Eden) for there's no peace in their lives. Silence yes, and a hell of a lot of it. But peace none at all. The urban world and its rush might conceal that silence, but the country has its own to offer. Vera reveals to Alex that she's pregnant, and the child is not his. Perhaps the external silence is too much for her to bear. Alexander is a great character and it is a great performance from Lavronenko. A classic case who has been influenced during his growing days and now is himself influential. Perhaps we all are, in varying degrees. In a lesser film he would have been a stoic binary individual, one of those standard-etched characters that respond in only two ways. But what Alex achieves here is to capture an individual who has added layers and layers to conceal himself, to conceal his vulnerability. As against popular conception, the layer addition is somewhat of an involuntary task. The wife has so desperately tried to penetrate those layers and to truly know her husband all her married life. And now the vacuum is too much for her to bear. Not because she is feeling lonely, but she can foresee where her son is being led to. Where her children are being led to. This is an extremely complex portrayal of parenting. Most films that intend to showcase negative parenting are loud and usually exaggerate the effects compressing them into a rather small time frame. This understands what happens and how the nature of a parent, good or bad, is gradually impressed upon the child. An impression that is infinitely complex than being just plain good or bad. Taare Zameen Par is juvenile in its portrayal of the parent; just as no boy is bad I bet there're few parents who are bad. A father is a child's hero, always. I can never overestimate the profound influence my father's persona has had on me. Vera discloses the secret herself in hope of a final attempt at breaking that shell. But it is impenetrable, that shell. It is transparent, but it is impenetrable. Then there's the other silence. The one that exist between the two brothers – Mark and Alexander. It is the silence that prospers between two individuals who're essentially one, the kind who understand the other's every little action every little word and every little moment. These are two individuals who've been together and stayed together every step of the rocky road. And when one experiences a tragedy, it is the other that suffers. It is a great study, the bond between the brothers. As much as I felt captive within the vacuum of the marriage, I would want to be company to these two brothers as they grew up. I would want to know if they share the same secret of brotherly love-respect-hate. Outside of Tarkovsky's cinema, I have never experienced such a great blend of serenity and silence. Zvyagintsev is a master, who pulls of every trick of his with mathematical precision. He's ably accompanied by the cinematography of Mikhail Krichman, his comrade from his debut film, and they create a profound location out of the otherwise ordinary countryside. This is the Garden of Eden, and with a budget that I suspect is as low as the first one (it was under $500,000). But what the results they achieve is worth billions, the landscape here is a character on its own. The camera is essentially still, and even during the occasional instances when it moves, the results are essentially still. This is an extremely beautiful film to look at, and that it is about such painful characters inhabiting a tragic family is all the more ironic. The secret of the breathtaking prowess of the film's effectiveness, and its screenplay is that it doesn't go for plot markers. It takes its time, and makes us privy to the drama as it unfolds, almost in real time. Love is God, it is said. And God is love. And yet, these people who are incapable of overcoming their shortcomings to achieve love for one another is horrifying, to a certain degree. For if God is love, why doesn't he himself overcome his shortcomings and help these people out of their vacuum. One of the great films of this year.