The title may refer to philosopher Thomas Hobbes’ classic tome concerning the structure of society and legitimate government (don’t be too impressed, I had to look that up), or maybe it’s the big whale of the Old Testament. It’s possible to read the whole thing as a loose modern retelling of the Biblical tale of Job, only here we have a man enduring state, rather than heavenly, intervention.
Set in a small Russian fishing community, naturalistic acting and multiple everyman characters combine with corrupt politicians, dodgy priests and wily lawyers, in a complex and gripping tale of the little guy up against the machinery of a system too massive and unwieldy to care.
The acting is top notch, with Alexey Serebriakov excellent as Kolia, a working stiff whose prime real estate is coveted by a crooked Mayor, played with villainous relish by Roman Madyanov. Coupled with Andrey Zvyagintsev’s assured direction, a scintillating Philip Glass score and Mikhail Krichman’s stunning cinematography, Leviathan is a tale far exceeding the sum of its parts.
It’s a political satire, a dazzling metaphor, an epic movie of the everyday – involving, uplifting, shocking, intellectually and emotionally stimulating. Yes, okay, it could be faulted for taking itself too seriously, or for simplifying its message, but that would be to miss the point. Leviathan is grand tragedy on an operatic scale, and, whilst it isn’t subtle, it is superbly rewarding cinema.
