A sparse, spare, robust, vibrant movie, shot in the middle of nowhere and channeling both the great tradition of Westerns (think John Ford or maybe even Sergio Leone) and the Russian literary legacy of Anton Chekhov (the Russian Imperial doctor who wrote funny stories and treated ex-prisoners dying from TB). The plot is very simple - a young doctor is sent out to the boonies, he helps the local folks when stuff happens to them, and then, when stuff happens to him, the local folks help him (or at least try to). It's not about the plot or even the dialog though (although the latter is occasionally bitingly funny). It's about the basic truths shared at all levels of human existence and regarding life, death, loyalty, betrayal, excessive drinking, and insufficiency of medical supplies.
A few factoids regarding the film. The screenplay predates the movie by almost 20 years. Neither of the script writers lived to see the movie. The director is the grandson of Mikhail Kalatozov, who directed The Cranes are Flying back in the 50s, which, if I remember correctly, was the first Russian movie to win the Palm d'Or at the Cannes film festival. Well, inasmuch as this reviewer is concerned, the grandfather would be proud of the grandson. The sad part is, the movie is considered cursed because of the early deaths of the writers and now of Mikhail Kalatozishvili, the director, as well.
A few factoids regarding the film. The screenplay predates the movie by almost 20 years. Neither of the script writers lived to see the movie. The director is the grandson of Mikhail Kalatozov, who directed The Cranes are Flying back in the 50s, which, if I remember correctly, was the first Russian movie to win the Palm d'Or at the Cannes film festival. Well, inasmuch as this reviewer is concerned, the grandfather would be proud of the grandson. The sad part is, the movie is considered cursed because of the early deaths of the writers and now of Mikhail Kalatozishvili, the director, as well.