Kirill Serebrennikov stylish Russian feature based on the memoirs of Natalia 'Natasha' Naumenko (Irina Starshenbaum) who was the wife and muse of famed Russian musician Mikhail 'Mike' Naumenko (Roman Bilyk; a songwriter himself). It's not a traditional bio-pic with secondary characters spinning in and out, flights of imagination and the entire time scale limited to a year or so.
The time is circa 1980, the place is Leningrad. The setting is crucial for this is several years before Perestroika. Stuffy old Brezhnev is still in power. Rock concerts were still strictly controlled, and had be as orderly as attending the Bolshoi. Music was from the West was still largely treated as contraband, with LPs and tapes sold on the streets and in the dark corridors of the subway. Mike, Natasha and their friends argue over Punk and New Wave and how to incorporate those sounds under the repressive regime (or more accurately, sneak them in). One of the younger upstart singers is Victor Tsoy (Teo Yoo) who Mike takes under his wing, while at the same time catching the eye of Natasha.
As with most memoirs, the events depicted are filtered through the perspective of both time and that of the adapters (Director Serebrennikov co-wrote with three others). Rendered in wide-screen Black & White, LETO takes on the look and feel of rock 'n roll myth-making. A train full of the young musicians is assaulted by police as they defiantly break out into a rousing version of The Talking Heads' 'Psycho Killer'. A documentary filmmaker follows the band around with his 16mm film camera (those segments are in color). Graphics and graffiti are drawn right on the 'film'. Every once in a while, a minor character will break the fourth wall and talk directly to the camera informing us that such and such an event "never happened".
At over two hours, LETO does get repetitive at times. U.S. audiences won't be as enthralled at some of the minor bits and asides that almost certainly have more cultural resonance domestically*. Still, the movie's energy and vigor ring through. The cast, music, editing and photography are aces. The language may be different, but the spirit of the music needs no translation.
* I arrived in the Soviet Union a week or so after Mike's passing (including a lovely week in Leningrad). I, obviously, had never heard of him, but, I do recall the locals still buzzing about his tragic early passing. A couple of months later, Freddie Mercury died, and the Americans and the Russians on the work project commiserated together.
The time is circa 1980, the place is Leningrad. The setting is crucial for this is several years before Perestroika. Stuffy old Brezhnev is still in power. Rock concerts were still strictly controlled, and had be as orderly as attending the Bolshoi. Music was from the West was still largely treated as contraband, with LPs and tapes sold on the streets and in the dark corridors of the subway. Mike, Natasha and their friends argue over Punk and New Wave and how to incorporate those sounds under the repressive regime (or more accurately, sneak them in). One of the younger upstart singers is Victor Tsoy (Teo Yoo) who Mike takes under his wing, while at the same time catching the eye of Natasha.
As with most memoirs, the events depicted are filtered through the perspective of both time and that of the adapters (Director Serebrennikov co-wrote with three others). Rendered in wide-screen Black & White, LETO takes on the look and feel of rock 'n roll myth-making. A train full of the young musicians is assaulted by police as they defiantly break out into a rousing version of The Talking Heads' 'Psycho Killer'. A documentary filmmaker follows the band around with his 16mm film camera (those segments are in color). Graphics and graffiti are drawn right on the 'film'. Every once in a while, a minor character will break the fourth wall and talk directly to the camera informing us that such and such an event "never happened".
At over two hours, LETO does get repetitive at times. U.S. audiences won't be as enthralled at some of the minor bits and asides that almost certainly have more cultural resonance domestically*. Still, the movie's energy and vigor ring through. The cast, music, editing and photography are aces. The language may be different, but the spirit of the music needs no translation.
* I arrived in the Soviet Union a week or so after Mike's passing (including a lovely week in Leningrad). I, obviously, had never heard of him, but, I do recall the locals still buzzing about his tragic early passing. A couple of months later, Freddie Mercury died, and the Americans and the Russians on the work project commiserated together.