BELARUS NEWS AND ANALYSIS

DATE:

11/04/2008

Dancing around dictatorship

Documentary takes on citizens' collective yawn in face of Belarusian tyranny

By Dene-Hern Chen

Belarusian Waltz

Alexander Pushkin defies authority to promote Belarusian identity.

In the middle of the documentary "Belarusian Waltz," director Andrzej Fidyk moves the camera from his hero, Alexander Pushkin, to his wife. She smiles sweetly and recites a popular joke: A Belarusian man is hanged, and his body is left dangling from the noose for two days, until officials take him down and lay him on the grass. The man comes to and starts coughing. The shocked officials ask him, "How is it possible?" The man replies, "You know, it was hard - but I got used to it."

This dark joke is intended to reveal the mentality of the average Belarusian. It is a rare moment of lucidity in a film that otherwise murkily meanders from point to point. Presented recently in the main competition section of One World (Jeden Svet), an international human rights film festival in Prague, "Belarusian Waltz" does not directly crusade against the terrible wrongs committed by Europe's last dictatorship. Instead, Fidyk chose to focus on the indifference, numbness and helplessness that Belarusians feel after so many years of political repression.

"Vodka," Pushkin declares, "is a national priority." The days in the countryside of Belarus are passed slowly, drunkenly, and numbly by inhabitants in the film. He takes the audience on a tour of his village, Bobr. We see drunkards stumbling down pebble roads clutching bottles of vodka, angry villagers who respond to the attention with a terse, "Film my ass," and curious children who wave excitedly at the screen.

Belarus comes off as remarkably tranquil. Shots of rolling green hills and cottages that look like dwarfs might start heigh-hoing out of them is set to a score of folk music. Pushkin, who appears to be in his late-thirties, swears that he is the only person who is awake enough to protest against the Soviet-style government, imposed on the country by President Alexander Lukashenko. Yet the stares he receives as he strolls through the village suggest that he might be just a little bit loony.

Pushkin is the exception to the tranquility, defying the authorities to promote ethnic Belarusian identity, a forbidden act in his country.

He certainly has a flair for the dramatic. In an effort to jolt his fellow citizens into nationalistic consciousness, Pushkin displays his Belarusian pride through performances. For example, he was arrested for waving a Belarusian flag up and down a main street in Minsk. President Lukashenko's authoritarian rule is supported by a pro-Russian faction, and Belarusian symbols are banned by the government. Those who defy his wishes are beaten and imprisoned in cases documented by international community and human rights groups.

Pushkin knows the risks, but forges ahead. In the film, he organizes an exhibition of his portraits of forgotten Belarusian heroes on the steps of the National Gallery in the Belarusian capital, Minsk. These protests have the potential to serve as powerful messages to Belarusians- if Pushkin weren't the only person participating in them. There is no crowd joining him, not even a small group of supporters cheering him on as he marches in a black ninja-like outfit. He vigorously waves a red and white flag, a display that seems more farcical than political.

Fidyk, a well-known Polish documentary film maker, teases the audience with the contrast between Pushkin and the other Belarusians. Pushkin's passionate rants and daring actions, like hiding a camera in his sleeve to help Fidyk film the inside of an orthodox church, are followed by scenes of Belarusians calmly going about their daily life. To them, there isn't a national crisis of Russian infiltration, as Pushkin claims. But as the film progresses, the quietness in the village seems almost oppressive, especially when contrasted to Pushkin's energetic protests. The villagers do not disagree with his words or actions; they are simply indifferent to them.

This reluctance to have an opinion is what prevents Belarus from moving away from the Soviet-style government, even though the people are unhappy. Viewers are led to believe this is why President Lukashenko keeps winning the presidency term after term. Belarusians people have resigned themselves to a dictatorship.

The film plods slowly along to folk music, which becomes annoyingly mellow after several scenes, mostly because we wish for a little adrenaline during protests and demonstrations. Pushkin's wife had remarked earlier in the film that "Patience is a Belarusian trait." However, it becomes clear through the music and suffocating atmosphere in the village, that patience is just another word for forbearance.

But what happens if people start paying attention to Pushkin? His passion is infectious, and his ideas are creative and interesting- but they meander from one crazy expression to the next, making it difficult to take him seriously.

The film acts in the same way. Sometimes it is whimsical and playful, and Pushkin's joking demeanor makes the entire situation seem light-hearted. But at other times, there are scenes with unspoken tension and a political dimension.

For instance, at one point in the film, Pushkin goes to see a Russian woman, an ex-girlfriend, on her birthday. The visit starts off pleasantly enough, with an exchange of niceties. He admires the artwork of her daughter, who it turns out is his daughter. However, at the end, Pushkin's ex accuses him of leaving her when she was pregnant because of her nationality. His responses to her harsh words seem almost flippant. I got the feeling that reading between the lines was necessary- and the message was completely over my head.

With only a superficial knowledge of Belarus from Wikipedia, I left the film extremely perplexed, but eager to learn more about Belarus, which is perhaps the film maker's intention. Clayton Martin, a student at New York University in Prague who I saw the film with, was just as confused as I was. When Clayton left the theater, his immediate reaction was, "What the f*** just happened? I have no idea."