“My view of modern society is quite pessimistic”, says the
young Russian film-maker Ivan I. Tverdovsky, whose two feature films are about
individuals being harshly persecuted by the society for being themselves and
expressing their feelings. If the Russian helmer’s debut feature Corrections
Class (2014) revolves around a pretty, differently-abled 11th grader
Lena (has myopathy and bounded to a wheelchair), his sophomore effort Zoology (2016)
tells the tale of shy, lonely fifty-something Natasha. Despite the
protagonists’ difference in age and place in their society, director/writer
Tverdovsky’s focus lies upon the individuals’ awakening and spurt of
non-conformity that’s squashed down in a cruel, spiteful manner. The
interesting aspect of Tverdovsky’s compact story lines is that it works as a
specific commentary on Putin’s Russia, while on a broader note it also delivers
a piercing critique on general perceptions of gender, sexuality, and darker
human impulses.
Zoology (Zoologiya) is one weird dramedy which amalgamates
Soviet cinema’s social realist tone (aka ‘Russian miserablism’) with
Cronenbergian body horror elements. The result is a well-balanced contemporary
fable, boasting strong emotional anchor to support the tale’s unorthodox idea. The
film opens with 55 year old Natasha (Natalya Pavlenkova) standing still at the
center of whitish atmosphere. It’s as if she is dead and floating on the clouds
to reach heaven. But no, she is just standing within the confines of her drab
administrative office, overlooking the sea and overcast sky. Natasha is the
procurement manager at a zoo and as she stands motionless, her chatty
colleagues gorge upon the latest juiciest piece of gossip. Unexpectedly,
Natasha faints and falls to the floor. It seems our middle-aged protagonist
expresses more emotions when she looks at caged animals. She is the butt of her rumor-mongering co-workers’ jokes (their idea of bullying includes filling her
desk drawer with pack of rats). Moreover, Natasha’s compliance is fiercely
sought by the boss, especially when it comes to buying sub-standard foods for
the animals she loves.
Life is drab at home too. Natasha hides her smoking habit
from religiously orthodox, domineering mother (Irina Chipizhenko) and their
relationship is painted in shades of grey. After the earlier fainting episode,
Natasha experiences great deal of pain in the back and discovers that she has
grown a tail. She goes to a doctor, who orders her to take an X-ray. The doctor
and Natasha treat the tail growth with matter of fact-ness, similar to the
Kafka’s matter of-fact presentation of the bizarre events in ‘Metamorphosis’.
Despite the initial pain and inconvenience of the tail, Natasha soon finds that
this physical anomaly has its boons too. She finds a way to use her phallic tail
to pleasure herself in a scene in the bathtub. Most importantly, the appendage
puts her under the gaze of Petya (Dmitri Groshev), a handsome young
radiographer. He is actually attracted to Natasha because of the tail. His
unwavering attention brings upon an emotional and sexual awakening, as Natasha
tries new hairdo, cut short her long skirts, and goes wild on a dance floor. Meanwhile,
rumors float amidst the residents of sea-side town about a shape-shifting devil
which has possessed a local woman. Gradually, Natasha’s desire for
self-empowerment is threatened by society’s penchant for mundanity and
conformity. ‘What if a woman grows a tail?’ might be the central bizarre
question that sets off the narrative. But eventually, Zoology uses the improbable occurrence to understatedly put forth this question: what if a woman
seeks a new lease of life? That’s what makes Natasha’s life journey believable,
memorable, and irrevocably sad.
Similar to contemporary Hungarian film-maker Gyorgy Palfi’s
weird stories of transition, Tverdovsky's unique and strange intentions in
Zoology explores the imposed limits of human desires and interconnectedness.
The narrative also boasts the quiet confidence to make it work on a
sociopolitical level too (as an allegory on the absurdities and
disillusionment in Putin’s regime; Palfi’s movies also doubles up as allegory on life in authoritarian Hungary). Director Tverdovsky
fascinatingly makes the limits not just figurative, but literal. Natasha’s life
near the sea hints at her existence at the edge. The sea clearly shows she has
nowhere to go, and the only transition possible is internal or physical. The caged
animals in the provincial town’s small zoo further highlight her grim
isolation.
Tverdovsky’s film-making style is as muted as Natasha’s
initial mindset. Earlier, he frames her in static shots, making her look
unassuming and small; she's yet another colorless object in the drab surroundings. Tverdovsky
shifts to handheld camera and observational documentary approach, when Natasha
slowly discovers her own sense of self. In the scene Petya guides her up the
slope to playfully slide down using a large aluminum basin, the camera gets
closer to Natasha to intimately catch her belated adolescent blossoming. One of
the great achievements of the movie is the
effortless way it evokes nervous laughter and emotional discomfort at the same
time (for eg, the ‘zoo cage’ scene). At some point, it becomes clear that
Zoology is not headed for upbeat ending. Yet the empathy it shows for the
ostracized protagonist persuades viewers to watch it till the end. And, Natalya
Pavlenkova perfectly wears the physical oddity and provides deeper
understanding of her livelier character. Regardless of whether one can dissect
the story’s obscure metaphors or not, Natalya’s performance adds a poignant
touch to the proceedings.
Zoology (90 minutes) uses an uncanny element to neatly
explore a repressed woman’s emotional upheaval. Utilizing absurdist humor and
stark realism in equal measures, it showcases the cost of being ‘different’.
Trailer
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