Issue 83 (2024) |
Andrei Kravchuk: Peter I: The Last Tsar and First Emperor (Petr I: Poslednii tsar i pervyi imperator, 2022) reviewed by Denise J. Youngblood © 2024 |
Andrei Kravchuk’s four-part historical documentary Peter I[1] was commissioned to commemorate the 350th anniversary of Peter’s birth in 1672—but its true aim is apparent by the beginning of its second chapter. Kravchuk seeks to resurrect Peter as an empire builder and war monger extraordinaire who doggedly defeated foes both internal and external, but not as the zealous domestic reformer who launched a cultural revolution with lasting implications for Russia. As in many other Russian (and Russo-Soviet) films, absence has meaning, and what Kravchuk omits from Peter’s well-known biography is at least as important as what he includes.
As I have argued in previous reviews of Kravchuk’s films for KinoKultura, the director’s “historical turn” has marked a sad decline in a once-promising career (Youngblood 2009 and 2017). Although I lamented the ideological and artistic conservatism that haunted The Admiral (2008), in retrospect that film, which glorifies Aleksandr Kolchak’s anti-Bolshevik exploits and presents his execution as a martyrdom, is a masterpiece compared to Kravchuk’s The Viking (2016), a crudely exploitative action picture intended to “glorify” Prince Vladimir and justify Russia’s 2014 annexation of Crimea. The nadir of Kravchuk’s career as a patriotic filmmaker is arguably The Union of Salvation (Soiuz spaseniia), a crude but expensive blockbuster about the Decembrist revolt that some Russian critics reviled as the worst picture of 2019 (Prokhorov 2020).
Peter I, labeled in the opening shot as part of the Rus Cycle of Historical Films (an obvious allusion to the 9th-century founding of the first “Russian” state in Kyiv, now the capital of independent Ukraine), is a middling documentary of the History Channel sort. A combination of animated lubok-style sequences, reenactments with live actors imposed on a CGI background, dull sound bites from scholars and experts, and a manipulative musical score that signals the emotional response expected from viewers, Peter I contains all the standard features of the genre. Its only standout performance comes from the omnipotent narrator, actor Konstantin Khabenskii, whose orotund, mellifluous tones conjure nothing less than the voice of God. Kravchuk’s Peter I is palatable, but in no way remarkable or revelatory, whether considering it cinematically or historically. This does not, however, mean that the documentary lacks political import. Indeed, it can be interpreted in two ways: as forgettable historical pablum or as a reasonably digestible justification of Putin’s authoritarianism.
Part One (35 minutes) offers a speedy overview of Peter’s consolidation of power, starting in 1682 with the death of his father Aleksei Mikhailovich (the second Romanov tsar), and culminating in 1694 with the death of his mother: tsarevna Nataliia Naryshkina. Chaos and bloodshed abound, instigated by the streltsy and various boyar cliques who are loyal to the regent, Peter’s much older half-sister, the powerful and intelligent Sofia. The crudely animated scenes of the violence surrounding young Peter are more amusing than scary.
Part Two (38 minutes) zips through Peter’s fabled journey west across Europe in 1697, his ruthless quashing of the streltsy revolt in 1699 (which included dispatching his sister Sofia to a convent), and his decision to seize a bit of Swedish territory in 1700, which sparked the Great Northern War (1700–1721). This conflict is widely considered the most important war in early modern Europe, ending as it did with Russia replacing Sweden as the dominant power of the North.
Part Three (35 minutes), which opens in 1703, might be subtitled “Love and War.” Against the backdrop of endless war, cartoonishly rendered in animated sequences, Kravchuk introduces Peter’s longtime companion and later wife Marta Skowronska, lovingly portrayed as beautiful, charming, cultivated, and, most importantly, literate: none of which is supported by the historical records. Marta, who succeeded Peter as Catherine I, is intended to demonstrate Peter’s allegedly intense interest in raising the status of women in Russia, which, once again, is not supported by the evidence. (Sister Sofia and first wife Evdokiia Lopukhina would certainly context the claim.) Most of this chapter is, however, devoted to the ongoing war and the equally epic construction of the new capital, rather than the widespread opposition to Peter in Russia for the pace of his reconstruction of the government and attacks on the Church, which are entirely absent.
Part Four (44 minutes) centers on Peter’s gargantuan struggle with the only child from his first marriage, tsarevich Aleksei. The tragic story of Aleksei’s efforts to escape his father’s clutches, ending with his arrest, torture, and death, is well-known, but Kravchuk recasts it to make it seem that Peter, not Aleksei, was the true victim. When Peter’s much admired nemesis Charles XII was killed in battle in 1718, Russian victory was a foregone conclusion, and Peter was able to turn his attention to his domestic troubles, particularly the corruption of his long-time friend Alexander Menshikov and the purported affair between his second wife Catherine (as Marta was renamed after her conversion to Orthodoxy) and Willem Mons. The message is clear: the ruler’s enemies need to be dispatched, swiftly and dispassionately—no trials needed. Finally, although Peter’s protracted and painful death is played for tears, the film ends on a positive note, with narrator Khabenskii triumphantly intoning a long list of Peter’s government reforms, which, up to this point, have been sidelined. Animated Russians cheer these achievements.
Kravchuk’s choice of experts to comment on Peter’s goals is noteworthy. They are all male, and, with two exceptions (historians Igor Kurukin and Boris Megorskii), are dull and pedantic. Although these men are mainly military historians (e.g., Aleksandr Kamenskii and Boris Kipnis), Kravchuk also includes an economist (Aleksandr Luzon), an architect (Sergei Choban), the writer/television personality Sergei Minaev, and the long-time director of the Hermitage Museum, Mikhail Piotrovskii. There are, however, two surprises. First, Archpriest Maksim Kozlov is called upon several times to reassure Orthodox viewers that Peter was not as anti-religious as he seemed to be, but the second, bigger surprise comes when Sergei Shoigu, the Minister of Defense and one of the most powerful people in Russia as of this writing, makes two guest appearances. I dared hope that Putin would be next, but alas, no….
It is also important to note that none of these experts appear together, so there is no discussion or debate among them. They are filmed alone, usually in closeup in a darkened room. For the most part, their commentary is brief and lacking energy or passion. In my view, Konstantin Khabenskii’s relentless and mesmerizing narration, which extolls Peter’s military achievements, is much more important than anything else the onscreen commentators have to say. The Voice believes in Peter’s greatness, despite his many defects, and persuades viewers that the Emperor acted out of love for Russia
Historians will always check a historical film for accuracy, even a popular documentary like this one, which is clearly intended for mainstream Russian audiences. Most of the details that Kravchuk and his co-writers Anton Cherikov and Andrei Rubanov selected for the screenplay are true enough, and that includes the characterization of Peter himself. I expected this film to be a hagiography, but it is not. Peter emerges more or less as the Peter of the historical record: impetuous, cruel, vulgar, but also intelligent, decisive, and determined. Critically important is that Peter doggedly refused to accept defeat in the Great Northern War, even though Russia was at the brink of it many times over the conflict’s 21 years. Peter simply would not give up. By omission, however, viewers can infer that Peter did not much care about the costs of his endless military campaigns, how many Russian lives were lost or blighted, or how many people opposed him, high and low, at home and abroad. They can also conclude that Peter’s other reforms were born of military necessity, not principle. The film’s Peter refused to listen to any voice, save his own, and scorned the opprobrium of others. It does not require much imagination to see the parallels between Peter and Sweden then and Putin and Ukraine now.
Notes
1] Although online sources and the screener I watched give the film’s title as Peter I, it is only Peter in the opening credits, which for me underscores the message. While there were other “Peters,” the only one who matters historically is Kravchuk’s Peter, the last tsar and first emperor.
Denise J. Youngblood
University of Vermont
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Works Cited
Prokhorov, Alexander, 2020. “Andrei Kravchuk: Union of Salvation (Soiuz spaseniia,2019),” KinoKultura 69.
Youngblood, Denise J. 2009. “Andrei Kravchuk: The Admiral (2008),” KinoKultura 23.
Youngblood, Denise J. 2017. “Andrei Kravchuk: The Viking (2016),” KinoKultura 57.
Peter I: The Last Tsar and First Emperor, Russia, 2022
Color, 152 minutes.
Director: Andrei Kravchuk
Scriptwriters: Anton Cherenkov, Andrei Kravchuk, Andrei Rubanov
DoP: Morad Abdel Fattakh
Art Director: Mariia Turskaia
Editor: Ekaterina Pivneva
VFX: Ilia Shutov, Evgenii Gittsigrat
Music: Kuzma Bodrov
Costumes: Tatiana Patrakhaltseva
Cast: Konstantin Khabenskii, Ivan Kolesnikov, Aleksei Lukin, Daniil Muravev-Izotov, Wolfgang Cerny, Igor Gordin, Maksim Ivanov, Kseniia Utekhina, Anastasiia Mishina, Ivan Dobronravov, Iuliia Bocharova, Roman Konoplev
Producers: Ivan Golomovziuk, Lili Shiroziia, Petr Shakhlevich
Production: 1-2-3 Production, with support from the President’s Fund for Cultural Initiatives
Distribution: Central Partnership
Andrei Kravchuk: Peter I: The Last Tsar and First Emperor (Petr I: Poslednii tsar i pervyi imperator, 2022) reviewed by Denise J. Youngblood © 2024 |