by Maria Sazonova, May 17, 2023
Summary
The film Fool, released in 2014 and directed by Yuri Bykov, received instant popularity and spurred nuanced discussion of the film’s creative execution and purpose. Fool, without further introduction, thrusts us into the severe and authentic reality of modern Russian society. In a small city N, at an unknown time during the night, the viewers are witnesses of a Russia on the verge of falling apart, where dissatisfaction, apathy and violence are pervasive.
Dmitrii Nikitin, a stoic and serious plumber’s assistant, is sent to fix a leak in a dilapidated building and discovers a sizable crack that runs vertically in the wall, threatening imminent disintegration of the whole structure. This endangers the lives of 800 residents of the dormitory, the “trash” of society that no one actually cares enough to save. Dmitrii takes up his fears with the city’s thoroughly corrupted higher-ups, who have been continuously and unabashedly stealing government funds meant for capital repair. They act only in selfish interests, imperiling and impoverishing the general public. The necessary rescue operation and the subsequent need for resettlement of all of the people in the dormitory will garner the attention of Moscow and expose the rampant theft the mayor’s gang indulges in. Tensions run high, and N’s city authorities are paralyzed with indecision and fear. They decide to avoid responsibility and make the sinful choice of inaction. Dmitrii Nikitin does absolutely everything to bring attention to this issue, of both among the authorities and the residents, yet is mocked and dismissed. The ordinary plumber’s actions are so discordinant with the callous reality that he is labeled as a fool for trying to do good in a damned society.
Bykov’s “Chernukha”/“Чернуха” and Hopelessness in Fool
Political corruption of government officials is a chewed-over topic in Russian cinema, partially due to its pervasiveness in Russian social context. But Bykov gives a fresh take on it, alongside brilliantly portrayed poverty, impuissance, and philistinism of the people in the precarious dormitory. Additionally, in Fool, Bykov simultaneously exposes the tragedy of a single person and the tragic fate of society at large with a delicate and masterful dramatism.
Bykov’s seemingly favorite artistic choice is characterized by the unflattering term “chernukha”, meaning blackness or darkness coupled with feelings of all-consuming hopelessness, that pervades his films and provides an extremely pessimistic view of reality. The Fool received a radically bipolar response from audiences; the film’s simplicity and intelligibility invoked rapture in half and roiling repulsion in the rest. Nevertheless, Fool strikes a chord deep within a Russian person and pains them with its undeniable truth.
This film is truthful, merciless, and a coarse reflection of reality portrayed as a grotesque anti-utopia. Bykov gives a diagnosis that doubles as a condemnation of a diseased society. Fool is a parable of enormous effect and consequence, plainly conveyed in its stinging images and adverse mannerisms. Bykov’s central message is frightfully depressing: In this world it is pointless to be good to others and true to your moral compass, because people of today’s society are poisoned by neglect. Any attempts to change the established course of things is bound to fail. Good people are an anomaly, shunned and hated by the nebulous, seething, and resentful cloud of the masses. This parable is angry and hateful but surprisingly strong and soul-striking; a genuine outcry of pain and imploration for change. Moreover, the hysterical quality of Bykov’s central message hides a passionate desire to be absolutely understood by as wide an audience as possible. Bykov bashes the viewer’s head into the asphalt in an attempt to knock some sense into them; such artistically violent means are necessary and even beneficial for an audience of selfish, rotten, and spiritually dormant people (In Bykov’s view, Russian citizens are as such).
There are many criticisms that argue that Fool is too morally dichromatic and thus simplistic, contains generic and convincing dialogue, as well as excessively comical confessions to wrongdoing by the city’s authorities. Despite these justifiable points, critics unanimously agree that insistence on the film’s low quality is blasphemous. Personally, I recognize the genius of script, mood, and core meaning imported onto the audience in Fool. Though I wouldn’t outrightly recommend such a burdensome and fatalistic film, I do believe in its brilliance and significance.
Naturally, this film is indisputably a depiction of an extreme, and I would caution against an overly literal perception of it; not all the societal details are as horrific and wretched in real life as they appear on the screen, but the similarities are chilling. It might seem that Bykov had lost faith in the Russian people and advocates an abandonment of any remaining scattered hope. But the heart strives for vitality and sparkling wishes! Some meek reviewers squeal that in spite of the hideous deformities in the extremities and organs of the Russian Motherland, the people still have a slippery hold on their pride, honor, and dignity. They are slowly but steadily sobering up, gaining momentum, and cultivating spiritual energy. The country is peppered with warriors like Dmitrii Nikitin, because good people exist and continue to fight – we must believe it, lest we sink into engulfing melancholy.
Falling Building as a Metaphor for Modern Russian Society
In Fool, collective irresponsibility and unresponsiveness to pressing issues has resulted in complete collapse of communities and society at large that mirrors an internal demolition of a functioning moral and value system. Though the stereotypical villains in the movie are supposedly the city’s authorities, the viewer involuntarily starts considering the actual residents of the crumling dormitory – the majority are drug addicts, alcoholics, theives, abusers, and young hooligans chasing cheap highs and lovelessly fucking in dark attics. Due to the country’s collapse and absence of rewarding work, educational programs, and an open-minded community, these people have degraded, lost orientation and meaning on their own existences. Most of them are fuelled by hatred and impudence, and it would be ridiculous to expect any shred of kindness or comfort from a neighbor in this building. The viewer inadvertently starts questioning: Are they really that innocent? Are they really worthy of saving? Is it worth endangering yourself and your family to save ungrateful strangers who are full of malice toward you, themselves, the world around them – as does the main character, Dmitrii? Or would the world be better off without the dregs of society? The viewer immediately denounces themselves for having such repugnant thoughts, but perhaps there are vestiges of truth in the assertion the public fully deserves the authorities they have, and nothing better. The people appear to be orphans of their government; unneeded and unloved and thus indifferent towards their own fate. But the normalized lack of love for life, empathy, and simple humanity that poisons the residents is sickening. The viewer is once again forced into an unbreakable cycle of questioning: who is to blame and what is to be done?
The people depicted in the film are ones without a future. They are weak and scared to death of any change in their wretched existence and any potential personal harm. The dormitory inhabitants will not raise a finger to improve their own life because they feel that “alas, that is the world we live in! There is no point in trying to improve it!” Instead of seeing regular people, the audience is brought before humanoid animals of various ages and genders, who don’t even care to consider themselves human; they impertinently engage in self-depreciation and refer to themselves as “trash”. The dormitory residents seem strangely proud of that flesh-brand; they reached the bottom of the barrel and had made a home there. However, in Fool, Bykov releases a silent scream that shatters your hearing with audible desperation: “Here before you is our greatest enemy! Not them — the elite, arrogant thieves, choking on their own wealth and fat but you yourself — cowardly, pathetic, silent!”
Dmitrii Nikitin’s Foolishness and Goodness
Dmitrii Nikitin is almost killed, endures threats to his family and himself, and still, still, he remains truly and authentically Human and does everything in his power to save the ungrateful people around him. Though his sullen face, downturned lip-corners, and constantly scrunched eyebrows that abut a simple winter hat paint the picture of a solidified pessimist, Nikitin is desperately fighting the artifice and rot; he single-handedly tries to shape this world into something better. With an iron grip he clings to his ideals, his love and care for every stranger, and his abhorrence of cheating and theft. Dmitrii Nikitin stays honest, genuine, and honorable, despite the whole world’s attempt to kill that light inside of him. Everyone dismisses Dmitrii as a total fool, an idiot, because with the backdrop of continuous hypocrisy, lying, cheating, a good person is detested and regarded as a “white crow in a flock of black”. Nikitin is emphatically advised “don’t be a fool; don’t get involved in this, it’s not your problem”, and yet the main character refuses, embraces the label of ‘idiot’ since it allows him to cling to his ideals. The public is accustomed to such naively hopeful characters; one is tempted to doubt his overwhelming goodness and scrupulously search for any faults, to prove that he is just as bad as the rest of us. The crowd cannot accept Dmitrii Nikitin because he provides a painful contrast to their own pitiful state, and thus people tend to simplistically label others as “disgusting bastards” or “fools”, excluding any other possible categories. Therefore, the “bad” and “rotten” becomes indicative of normal and expected.
In Bykov’s conception of Russian society, moral values become virtually nonexistent, and only rarely carried by “fools”. The prototype of the “holy fool” is quite frequent in Russian classical literature, most notable in the character of Knyaz (Prince) Lev Nikolaevich Myshkin in Fyodor Mikhaliovich Dostoevsky’s novel The Idiot. Like Myshkin, Dmitrii Nikitin completely gives himself over to others, and places his care for the people above personal gain and attainment of security and success. But even amongst regular and poor people like himself, the modern Knyaz Myshkin cannot find any supporters because nobody cares.
Fool accurately captures the current Russian mentality (speaking from the perspective of a congregation of Russian people, solely in Bykov’s subjective interpretation): We don’t want the truth, because it is too crippling to bear. We hate being put before the fact of our misery, because we are perfectly cognizant of it ourselves. The plain-spoken truth will not help anyone and will only hasten the annihilation of the truth-bringer. We understand perfectly how we are living, the current state of us. We don’t want change, though we understand we are following the path to the bottom. Change will only make everything worse.
Bykov understands that the Russian population has grown exceedingly unused to self-criticism, which makes Fool draw blood from softer skin. We (Russians) often prefer to compromise, brush aside problems, give in and bend under pressure to conform. Real fighters, real idealists like Dmitrii are very few and far between, and unfortunately life tends to break even the most well-intentioned and most resilient of them.
A Real Hero Battles Human Apathy
Dmitrii Nikitin is a Real Hero, far from the flashy, red-underwear-clad American Superman. Nikitin is a benevolent and selfless person that actively fights injustice no matter the personal risk; he is the only person resisting total obliteration – to reiterate, both external and internal – but he is shackled with powerlessness and insignificance. On one hand, he is obstructed by higher-ups, who perceive everyone immediately outside of their aristocratic social circle as ‘dirt under their shoe’. On the other hand, a blatant factor in the dreadful situation is the sheer apathy of the actual residents of the crumbling apartments toward their own life and fate. Through this logical sequence of deliberation, an overarching idea is elucidated: The fatal defect of Russian people, as well as humanity in general, is omnipresent and all-consuming indifference. There is cataclysmic and irreversible loss of community, desire to live together, and help each other. Towards the end of the film, when Nikitin sends his wife and child away to safety while he stays behind attempts again to save the building, they have the following argument:
“- What world do you live in?? C’mon, let’s go!
– There’s hundreds of people there, hundreds! Do you have any conscience, no?
– Dim, they are no one to us.
– Shut up. Don’t you understand, we live like pigs, and die like pigs, only because we are no one to each other”.
Dmitrii’s wife expresses the egocentric sentiments he so despises, and the main character ends up misunderstood and ostracized by his family, though his words reflect the highest Christian love.
Fool’s Ambiguous Ending: Mutilation of a Shunned Prophet
Bykov makes the Fool’s ending open ended and thus the central question remains unanswered: Does catastrophe occur and does the building crumble in the end? The final scene in the film is a symbolic slaughtering; The residents of the doomed building passionately “express their gratitude to their savior by violently beating him black and blue. Like Jesus Christ, Dmitrii Nikitin was killed – spiritually or physically, is inconsequential – by the very people he tried to save. Because, naturally, prophets are always “loved” by the public. Dmitrii’s frenzied efforts are completely futile – he genuinely wanted to help, to solve at least this dire problem in a world riddled with them, and this was the reward. Some of Fool’s reviewers admitted that sometimes, if you want to be heard you have to be willing to die (i.e. you must die to be heard). This is hauntingly explicit in the Fool’s final scene. In my mind, the true terror lies in the outcome of the beating; did Dmitrii’s devastation lead to disillusionment with his ideals? Was he emptied of his love for humanity? It physically chills me to ask, but how can anyone survive something like this and remain unchanged?
Bykov is a genius of symbolic interrogation of the audience and the reality they live in. He refuses to answer the burning questions he alludes to and intentionally steps back, confident in the thought that the light he flashes to expose all of the dirt in humanity – causing rats to scuttle and pupils shrink in fear – is enough to spur action or at least a deeper consideration of these issues. In a way, Bykov demolishes the 4th wall and invites multiple interpretations of his creation. The film’s story grips the audience until the ending and each viewer is put before this moral dilemma – reminiscent of the stylized ethical dilemmas such as the trolley problem – and left with yet another infuriating question: what would I undertake in this situation?
A Secretly Coveted Motherland
In his interview dedicated to the Fool (Durak), Bykov exhibits loathing for the explosively excited Western (i.e. American and European) reaction to the film. He asserts that foreign viewers will readily perceive the Fool as a social criticism exclusively most importantly about Russia, exposing the saddening truth about its current state of physical and moral degradation. While it is an unapologetically a Russian film, a constituent of the infamously dark and pessimistic Russian modern cinema, taking into account a Western review puts it into a precarious position. The Fool unintentionally encourages the classic Western aversion and haughty disapproval of Russia and all things Russian, a perpetual attitude that is especially acute in the recent political atmosphere. Bykov’s masterpiece only further intensifies Russia’s antagonization and illusion of feebleness.
Fundamentally, the call-to-action message of the film extends not only to dilapidated Russian society, but addresses similar broad problems just as potently present in many different countries. It would be counterproductive to gleefully point fingers at a film based on sharp criticism of Russia, all while ignoring societal parallels in Western nations. Ironically, it seems that Bykov’s unflinching claims will turn out to be of little significance for changing prevalent Western interpretations of the film, mostly due to politicized media that benefits from casting Russia in the worst light possible (which begs a larger and nuanced discussion of fallacious media influence – an ailment that affects both countries equally – omitted here).
Be that as it may, it’s crucial to realize that the premise of the film is not inherently political at all: it is about people and their process of internal abasement due to dire outside circumstances and rotting mass perceptions of the world and one’s community. And people are people no matter what race or nationality they identify with.
For a Western thinker/viewer there is a peculiar phenomenon prevalent amongst Russian intellectuals; unthinkable to a simplistically (i.e. blindly) patriotic American, for instance. At the tailend of the interview, in a firm and unyielding tone, Bykov declares the following: “I do not like a lot of what is going on in this country, and I try to honestly discuss and portray that in my pictures. But concurrently, I don’t want them to think, over there, in the West, that I showed up to complain and invoke pity about my struggles in a desolate place. I don’t want to leave, I don’t want to go anywhere. I want to live here, I love my country. One does not choose their homeland – a Mother is a Mother”. Even from the harshest critic of modern reality we observe an inherent devotion to its suffering and diseased Russia, as he bleakly portrays Her.
This Same Sentiment in Russian Literature Tradition
On the 8th of July 1827, in a letter to Pytor Vyazemsky, Russia’s most celebrated poet, playwright, and novelist Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin produced a line that would encompass the feelings of the intelligentsia towards their homeland for centuries to come: “I, of course, despise my Motherland wholeheartedly, from the head to feet — but I’m aggravated/chagrined, if a foreigner shares my sentiment”. Russian intellectuals and cultural figures – then and now – share an intimate hatred for their country and its self-destructive political movements which is paradoxically irreconcilable with a concealed faith and familial love for Russian; one that cannot be removed even surgically. Thus arises the jealous overprotectiveness of Russia’s reputation against European and American prying media intrusions.
Pushkin’s poem To the Slanderers of Russia, published in 1831 as a response to French military interventions against the Russian Army during the Polish rebellions of 1830 – 1831, expresses a similar fiery sentiment. Pushkin condescendingly dispels foreigners from Russian international political actions and flaunts an unshakable confidence in his people; an attitude most prominent in the following excerpts:
“Desist: this is a strife of Slavs among themselves,
An old domestic strife, already weighed by fate,
An issue not to be resolved by you.
…
Send then to us, oh, bards,
Your sons enraged:
There’s room for them in Russia’s fields,
‘Mid graves that are not strange to them”.
Likewise Fyodor Tyutchev, a renowned Slavophile poet, passionately states that “Russia cannot be known by the mind … Russia can only be believed in” (1866) in one of his most famous poems, You Cannot Know Her with the Mind… This illustrates the depth and intransigence of a Russian’s belief in their Motherland, regardless of the horrific historical and societal occurrences, which unfortunately tend to cyclically repeat. This grandiose idea of an unconditional love for a hulking country begs the statement that NONE of the horrors and crimes committed by the government heads operating this elaborate, rusted, moaning machine – at any point in Russia’s tumultuous history – can be invalidated or nullified.
This patriotic idea reverberates in many of the grandest literary and poetic works of Russian literature across centuries. However, while its significance for the formation of ambiguous and idealistic Russian nationalism cannot be negated, it is more often disputed and contested than blindly accepted and propagated. Throughout history, Russians have incessantly slandered their own country; ironically, this unnerving abhorrence remained the only stable thing in a chaotic and blood-soaked history. In Bykov’s view, people have lost an anchoring belief in their country and in themselves, setting them adrift in a headspace permeated with an absence of moral sense. Disillusionment with your nation and its inexorable decay inevitably accompanies despondence and nihilistic conceptions of one’s existence.
[Concluding Note: Thank you for taking the time to read this piece! Fool can be found for free on Youtube.com with English subtitles
(in my rough translation)]
Works Cited
Dzen.ru. (n.d.). https://dzen.ru/a/Y0WTqQXABRHg-oxd
YouTube. (2016, March 25). ДУРАК – Фильм Юрия Быкова. YouTube. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OrusrtlTHQA
Антон Смаль 21 января 2015 в 18:50, Ridzhi 22 января 2015 в 00:11, & Polia 24 января 2015 в 17:53. (2022, December 28). “Дурак”: герои больше не нужны? Научи хорошему. https://whatisgood.ru/tv/films/durak-geroi-bolshe-ne-nuzhny/
Дурак (Дурак, 2014): Рецензия от автора #естькино на Ivi. Онлайн-кинотеатр Иви. (n.d.). https://www.ivi.tv/watch/126658/reviews/58600
Дурак. Главная. (2014, September 8). http://rottenaparts.ru/film/%D0%B4%D1%83%D1%80%D0%B0%D0%BA
Кому на руси жить хорошо. Кинопоиск. (n.d.). https://www.kinopoisk.ru/film/808639/reviews/ord/rating/
Партийный переулок, д. 1, к. 57, с. 3 115093 Москва, Россия info@iz.ru. (2014, August 20). “Я не хочу, чтобы на западе думали, будто я приехал пожаловаться.” Известия. https://iz.ru/news/575503
Рецензия на фильм “Дурак.” (n.d.). https://www.film.ru/articles/horoshimi-delami-proslavitsya-nelzya
Рецензия на фильм “Дурак” быкова: Журнал Интроверта. Рецензия на фильм “Дурак” Быкова | Журнал Интроверта. (2023, May 22). https://artforintrovert.ru/tpost/zzfafigst1-retsenziya-na-film-durak-bikova
Юмор помогает жить // Обзор обсуждения фильма “Дурак” с Юрием Быковым. – Новости – Образовательная программа “Юриспруденция” – Национальный исследовательский университет “Высшая школа экономики.” (n.d.). https://www.hse.ru/ba/law/news/203365171.html
SBU Brooklogue 