One of the 'men' in 'Seven Brave Men' is a woman: in fact, she's the medical officer in the story's expedition. This movie is Soviet propaganda, so I suspect that the gender evasion in the title is intentional ... to show that men and women are all equal in the workers' paradise, comrade, da? Having visited the Soviet Union pre-glasnost, I'm very sceptical about such symbolism. The majority of the physicians in the USSR were female, and the propaganda officers always presented this statistic to the outside world as proof of the (supposedly) enlightened status of women under communism. But in fact, medical technology and hospital conditions under Soviet collectivism were so wretched that doctors did not have the exalted status in Russian society that they've enjoyed elsewhere, and to be a doctor in the USSR was largely perceived as drudgework. Job openings for physicians tended to be filled by women because, frankly, men didn't want the job.
CONTAINS SLIGHT SPOILERS. The Soviet factories need tin, so a six-'man' expedition (including the female Dr Okhrimenko) have journeyed to the Siberian Arctic in search of lodes. While they're in the neighbourhood, they hope to indoctrinate the natives into the glories of collectivism. The leader of the expedition is handsome Captain Letnikov. En route, the merry crew discover that they've acquired a stowaway: a Tintin-like youth named Moliboga. Why anyone would stow away on a vessel to the Arctic is beyond me. The sound recording in this film is bad, and I had difficulty following the Russian dialogue -- even with the assistance of a Ukrainian native who watched the film with me -- but apparently Moliboga is meant to be a teenager, even though the actor playing the role seems a bit older. Teenage Moliboga is straight away put to work as the expedition's cook. (A galley slave?) For purposes of this movie, he also fulfils the role of commie relief, I mean comic relief. I hope his cooking skills are adequate, because he isn't very funny. Anyway, he's now the seventh man of the title.
The expedition's pilot, Bogun, accidentally damages an important piece of equipment ... leading to much dialogue as to how he has let down the nation's noble cause, and set back the latest five-year plan, and such. Eventually, he redeems himself when some other members of the expedition are stranded by bad weather. (Who'd have thought there'd be bad weather in the Arctic?)
The exteriors in this film are impressive, and I get the impression that these scenes were indeed filmed in Siberia or at least in the extreme northern Soviet territory. (Not that I would know; I've never been there.) The actors' foreshortened shadows and their condensed breath make it quite clear they're in near-polar latitudes. We see some brief scenes of the native Eskimos or Inuit or Yupik, or whatever this week's Politically Correct designation is. Frankly, I can't understand why anyone would live in such a desolate region, especially in the days before modern technology. As if these people didn't have enough problems just being Eskimos, they're about to become something even more unfortunate: communist Eskimos.
There are some exciting scenes of an avalanche and a blizzard. These look quite real, although I wouldn't have put it past the filmmakers to stage a genuine avalanche just to get the footage. Several times, the wind blows snowflakes directly onto the camera lens, reminding us that we're watching actors in a movie.
The woman doctor is played by Tamara Makarova: from the looks of her, she doesn't seem to be related to the very beautiful ballet dancer Natalia Makarova (whom I've seen in the free world after she defected from the USSR). Interestingly, the filmmakers establish this character as a Ninotchka-like Soviet woman -- all brisk efficiency, with no room for emotion or love -- and yet, at the very end of the film, she confers a kiss upon one of her male crewmates. Within the context of this stolid unemotional movie, this is presented as a moment of very torrid passion indeed. I'll rate this movie 4 points out of 10. Now I know why it was called the Cold War.
CONTAINS SLIGHT SPOILERS. The Soviet factories need tin, so a six-'man' expedition (including the female Dr Okhrimenko) have journeyed to the Siberian Arctic in search of lodes. While they're in the neighbourhood, they hope to indoctrinate the natives into the glories of collectivism. The leader of the expedition is handsome Captain Letnikov. En route, the merry crew discover that they've acquired a stowaway: a Tintin-like youth named Moliboga. Why anyone would stow away on a vessel to the Arctic is beyond me. The sound recording in this film is bad, and I had difficulty following the Russian dialogue -- even with the assistance of a Ukrainian native who watched the film with me -- but apparently Moliboga is meant to be a teenager, even though the actor playing the role seems a bit older. Teenage Moliboga is straight away put to work as the expedition's cook. (A galley slave?) For purposes of this movie, he also fulfils the role of commie relief, I mean comic relief. I hope his cooking skills are adequate, because he isn't very funny. Anyway, he's now the seventh man of the title.
The expedition's pilot, Bogun, accidentally damages an important piece of equipment ... leading to much dialogue as to how he has let down the nation's noble cause, and set back the latest five-year plan, and such. Eventually, he redeems himself when some other members of the expedition are stranded by bad weather. (Who'd have thought there'd be bad weather in the Arctic?)
The exteriors in this film are impressive, and I get the impression that these scenes were indeed filmed in Siberia or at least in the extreme northern Soviet territory. (Not that I would know; I've never been there.) The actors' foreshortened shadows and their condensed breath make it quite clear they're in near-polar latitudes. We see some brief scenes of the native Eskimos or Inuit or Yupik, or whatever this week's Politically Correct designation is. Frankly, I can't understand why anyone would live in such a desolate region, especially in the days before modern technology. As if these people didn't have enough problems just being Eskimos, they're about to become something even more unfortunate: communist Eskimos.
There are some exciting scenes of an avalanche and a blizzard. These look quite real, although I wouldn't have put it past the filmmakers to stage a genuine avalanche just to get the footage. Several times, the wind blows snowflakes directly onto the camera lens, reminding us that we're watching actors in a movie.
The woman doctor is played by Tamara Makarova: from the looks of her, she doesn't seem to be related to the very beautiful ballet dancer Natalia Makarova (whom I've seen in the free world after she defected from the USSR). Interestingly, the filmmakers establish this character as a Ninotchka-like Soviet woman -- all brisk efficiency, with no room for emotion or love -- and yet, at the very end of the film, she confers a kiss upon one of her male crewmates. Within the context of this stolid unemotional movie, this is presented as a moment of very torrid passion indeed. I'll rate this movie 4 points out of 10. Now I know why it was called the Cold War.