The Death of Russian Cinema, Or Sochi: Russia's Last Resort
THE DEATH OF RUSSIAN CINEMA, OR SOCHI: RUSSIA’S LAST RESORT Nancy Condee 1. “Malokartine” is a made-up word, the Russian equivalent of “cine-anemia,” a devastating blood disorder in the body of the Russian cinema industry. The figures speak for themselves: in 1991, when the Soviet Union collapsed, the Russian Republic produced 213 full-length feature films. Since then, the industry has suffered an annual decrease of 25-30%. In 1992, Russia produced 172 films; in 1993, 152 films; by 1994, 68 films; in 1995, 46 films; in 1996, only 20 films, putting Russia behind Sweden and Poland in the “second tier” of European film production. At this rate, the “blood count” by the end of 1997 should be around thirteen feature films. This dramatic decline is, in part, the inevitable end to the cultural boom of 1986- 1990, when perestroika’s filmmakers produced up to 300 feature films a year: moralizing exposés, erotic melodramas, and incomprehensible auteur films. Once the boom ended, however, the industry could not recover to the stable norm of 150-180 films of the 1970s and early 1980s. Instead, Mosfilm, Moscow’s leading film studio, which regularly had had 45-50 film projects in production at any given time, now has at best five to seven films in process. At Lenfilm, St. Petersburg's lead studio, the situation is bleaker: only a handful of films are in production and its studio space, like many movie theaters around town, doubles as a car wash. Of course, cynics might see a tender irony in this transformation: in the early post-revolutionary years, Soviet commissars had converted Russia’s Orthodox churches into makeshift movie theaters, screening (in Lenin’s words) “the most important of all the 2 arts.” Now the “new Russians” are transforming Soviet cinema space into their own “places of worship”: furniture stores, auto showcases, and merchandise warehouses.
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