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| Images courtesy of Gorky Film Studio |
Second to Aleksandr Ptushko who remains the world’s
grandmaster of the fantasy epic film, Soviet Russia’s other fairy tale screen
guru of the mid 1960s was another Aleksandr, namely Aleksandr Rou. A frequently purveyor of children’s fantasy films
usually based on Russian folklore, the Irish-Greek born filmmaker generated
many a number of fantasy films for Soyuzdetfilm (later renamed Gorky Film
Studio) including but not limited to renowned works of literature by Nikolai
Gogol, Petr Yershov and Vitali Gubarev. One
of the key members of a folk revival of sorts in Soviet cinema, Aleksandr Rou
like Aleksandr Ptushko left an indelible screen imprint that resonated not just
with domestic audiences but eventually foreign film fans as well.
One of Rou’s most startling, accomplished and underrated
gems of his unique brand of family friendly fantasy filmmaking is his 1963
adaptation of Vitali Gubarev’s 1951 novel of the same name: Kingdom of
Crooked Mirrors. Adapted by Gubarev
as well as Lek Arkadiev, the colorful children’s fantasy loosely inspired by
Lewis Carroll’s Through the Looking Glass zeros in on a chance encounter
between a little girl named Olya (Olga Yukina) and a doppelganger who appears
when stepping into the mirror named Yalo (twin sister Tatyana Yukina). The two kids wind up being polar opposites
with Yalo being diligent while Olya is lackadaisical. In the world on the other side of the mirror
where Yalo exists, the kingdom is ruled by King Yaugupop LXXVII (Anatoly
Kubatsky) who creates crooked mirrors that brainwashes the populace. When Yalo’s friend Gurd (Andrei Stapran), a
young boy, is kidnapped for refusing to produce crooked mirrors for the evil Yagupop,
its up to Olya and Yalo to go rescue him.
Notable for casting real twins in the leading roles, shot in
Crimea by Leonid Akimov and Vasily Dultsev in 1.33:1 academy ratio, the film is
an effects heavy fantasy romp echoing the plate matting effects of The
Wizard of Oz while turning the kids loose into a fun, scary and exciting ride
of kaleidoscopic multicolored images.
Aided by a delightfully fantastical score by Akradi Filippenko, wild
makeup effects by A. Ivanov and astounding production design by Arseni
Klopotovsky and Aleksandr Vagichyov, to sit and watch Kingdom of Crooked
Mirrors in spite of its eighty-minute running time is to go on a journey, a
ride into a place you never dreamt of or imagined. While some western critics have read the film
as a slam on the perceived hypocrisy of western nations dunking on the Soviet
propaganda machine during the Cold War, others have simply taken the work at
face value as a most delightful audiovisual creation for Russian children.
A film largely populated by adult veteran actors and actresses
including but not limited to Tatyana Barysheva, Anatoly Kubatsky and Georgi
Millyar, what’s striking about Kingdom of Crooked Mirrors is how much it
rests on the shoulders of two children who never acted before. They completely carry the film and every
bright and dark turn the story takes happens with them involved. Amid the film’s eventual box office success,
the concept of using real twins as the face of the movie eventually inspired a
restaurant in Moscow ran primarily by twins.
The film also used, in addition to conceptual drawings and matting
effects shots, birds and animals including a golden eagle and a cat previously
used in the 1958 Soviet film The New Adventures of Puss in Boots.
Glittering and sparkling in between moments of darkness,
mixing elements of the children’s fantasy with that of a thriller, Kingdom
of Crooked Mirrors singlehandedly cements Aleksandr Rou as one of the premier
children’s fantasy film directors if not one of Soviet Russia’s greatest second
to the aforementioned Aleksandr Ptushko.
Timeless, pure and a welcome response to the floodgates burst open by
the Disney fantasy film factory both animated and live action, Rou’s still
visually stunning effort eventually got a televised musical remake in
2007. With the legacy and lore of the
fantasy world devised by Rou being alive and well, the film is another
indelible offering to those new and unaccustomed to the awe and wonderment
contained within some of Soviet cinema’s most colorful screen works. Now let’s hope the guys at Deaf Crocodile
films are listening in.
--Andrew Kotwicki
