This Russian film directed by Boris Barnet in 1935 seems to be available only on a Bach Films DVD with French sub-titles. Fortunately, there is not a great deal of dialogue, so even those with limited Russian and/or French should encounter little difficulty in relating to it. And it is a beautiful movie, with truly inspiring photography, that is worth relating to, despite the occasional adherence or lip service to the party line.
The story is a simple one. Two shipwrecked sailors, played by blond hero Nikolai Kryuchkov and clownish Lev Sverdlin, are washed up on an island in the Caspian Sea. Fortunately, it's not only inhabited but has a small fishing co-operative, headed by Semyon Svashenko, so our boys soon find work. But more importantly – at least so far as Nikolai and Lev are concerned – the island boasts a female doer and leader in the lovely form (at least to the eyes of two shipwrecked sailors) of Yelena Kuzmina.
But don't pay too much mind to the forever blustering hero, or the pitiable, self-pitying, droopy-eyed clown, or even the passably attractive but somewhat careworn (and definitely no glamour model) heroine. It's the photography that counts, the mise en scène, the surge of the waves, the tilting sky, the sunlit sands. If ever a movie was a visual poem, a constant but ever-changing delight to the eye, that movie is Au Bord de la Mer Bleue. And it runs just long enough not out-stay its welcome!
The story is a simple one. Two shipwrecked sailors, played by blond hero Nikolai Kryuchkov and clownish Lev Sverdlin, are washed up on an island in the Caspian Sea. Fortunately, it's not only inhabited but has a small fishing co-operative, headed by Semyon Svashenko, so our boys soon find work. But more importantly – at least so far as Nikolai and Lev are concerned – the island boasts a female doer and leader in the lovely form (at least to the eyes of two shipwrecked sailors) of Yelena Kuzmina.
But don't pay too much mind to the forever blustering hero, or the pitiable, self-pitying, droopy-eyed clown, or even the passably attractive but somewhat careworn (and definitely no glamour model) heroine. It's the photography that counts, the mise en scène, the surge of the waves, the tilting sky, the sunlit sands. If ever a movie was a visual poem, a constant but ever-changing delight to the eye, that movie is Au Bord de la Mer Bleue. And it runs just long enough not out-stay its welcome!