In Maxim Maximych’s retelling of the former lietenant’s story, his explanations of the tense yet intimate relationship between the Chechen people and the travelers/foreigners is mentioned.  Specifically, I noticed the relationship between the portrayal of Chechen people in light of Maximych’s retelling of his story of the former lieutenant’s adventures and his interactions with Chechen characters. In the beginning of this text, there was definitely a distant, cold connection highlighted by certain comments about the Chechen people. For instance, the Chechen wedding customs were retold in the perspective of an observer rather than in the perspective of a companion. This distinction shows that the Chechen people, as well as other indigenous groups, are categorized as “other.” This “otherness” is what I found most intriguing about this text. I addition to the cold remarks about the character of Chechen people, they are referred to by different names such as Circassians and Asiatics. This further removes them from familiarity with both the Maximych and the lieutenant.

However, this cold view of the Chechen people is melted away with the introduction of Bela. Bela serves as a breakaway from the “other people” perspective. In light of her beauty, she is adored by Kazbich and other foreigners, most notably Pechorin. Pechorin wins her favor by giving her expensive gifts and respecting her wishes, as well as caring for her. Her death by the hands of Kazbich highlights the emotional attachment that Maximych, the lieutenant, and Pechorin feel after her death.  In this way, the observer outlook of the Chechen people is washed away to be replaced by a more emotional and humanistic depiction.

Despite following similar plots, Tolstoy’s A Prisoner in the Caucasus and Brodsky’s Prisoner of the Mountains offer wildly different portrayals of the Caucasian captors. In the former, Tolstoy emphasizes the exoticism of the Tartars: their Islamic practices, squabbling, consumption of horses, and surprise at Ivan’s tool proficiencies. By contrast, Prisoner of the Mountains acknowledges the different customs of the Chechens but does not embrace Russian ways as normal. While Dina appreciates Ivan’s crafts in both works, Prisoner of the Mountains establishes limits on Ivan’s relative craftsmanship with his refusal to fix the clock (on account of not having enough time). Also important is the disparity in mercy across the two works. Whereas the Tartars in the first work are made out to be vengeful, the sequence of the Brodsky film in which Abdul leads off Ivan to shoot him but then spares his life shows a merciful aspect. I agree with Colby in how this contrasts with Russia’s aggressive strategy; Ivan’s despair in the final sequence cements the associated critique.

Another key difference is in Dina’s characterization as quasi-love interest. In Tolstoy’s work, her fascination with Ivan primarily follows from her admiration of his doll making and broader ways. In this way, youth and openness to experience outside of the Tartar norms define her. By contrast, the Dina in Brodsky’s film has conversations with Ivan about her struggle to get married. In many ways, this resembles Ivan’s struggle to prove his masculinity. From the opening health screening, Ivan finds his genitals scrutinized. While imprisoned, Sasha suggests that Ivan may be castrated should he remain a slave to Abdul’s family. Later on, Ivan finds himself rejected as a participant in a fight, showing a failure of Ivan to attain the masculine norm of physical domination. In this way, Dina comes across as more mature, serving as an equal counterpart to the Russians rather than a plot device. In this way, Brodsky’s film foregoes banal exoticism tropes in favor of examining a common conflict between the individual and society. In this broad sense, the Chechens are assimilated into the Russian experience.

In Prisoner of the Mountains, the songs and whistling made the film similar to other war films. The whistling as the Russian soldiers were pictured in their camp and riding in their tanks was a classic depiction of soldiers in general. The whistling reminded me of ww1 and ww2 films as the soldiers usually whistled during the downtime of war. Similarly, the children singing as the film overviewed the mountain village. The song makes the village seem innocent with the young voices of the children singing. I pictured the village as more of a small, innocent community through these songs. These aspects gave the film commonality to other war films.

With the songs and whistling in the film, we would expect a common ending to a prisoner of war film. Either the prisoners would break out of the captivity or they would make friends with the people of the mountain village. Although, this film gave a Russian twist by having an unexpected ending in fairly traditional scenery, music, and sound of a war story. I did not expect Abdul to let Vanya go at the end of the film and immediately after Russian helicopters appear to go destroy the mountain village. Overall, I enjoyed the film as a whole because of the unexpected ending and the mix of themes within the war story.

The two characters featured in Prisoner of the Mountains seem to illustrate both the darker aspects of Russian culture as well as a potential domestic discomfort with these aspects. Sasha seems to be an archetypical, hardened Russian soldier. The first thing he is seen doing in the film is drinking before randomly firing off his weapon for fun. Despite being a soldier, Sasha oozes chaos. This marriage between discipline and unpredictability takes the shape of cunning. Indeed, As the film progresses, we see his ability to take advantage of people soar into the spotlight when, after escaping with Vanya, sneakily kills a Shepphard to get his weapon.

Vanya frequently seems somewhat uncomfortable with Sasha’s methods, and tells him that he had never killed anyone before. Despite claiming he is willing to learn, Vanya often seems disturbed at the sight of violence. He lacks Sasha’s hard edge, and, despite his incredible physical dexterity (employed to fix watches and pick locks,) Vanya lacks any real cunning, instead possessing the ability to sympathize with his enemies.

Sasha’s strength and guile represent some of the virtues which Russian culture seems to hold dear. But Vanya’s discomfort with them demonstrates that Russian culture has the ability to self critique. The movie reveals a sense of anxiety and tension between Russian cunning and Russian compassion. On one hand, the Russian character is aggrandized in its ability to outwit and overcome, represented by Sasha. On the other hand, Russian character is aggrandize in its supposed ability to save the world, represented by Vanya, who ends the movie with a desperate attempt to stop his own compatriots from obliterating the enemy village which he had grown to love.

Two reinforcing themes I noticed in Prisoner of the Mountains were the importance of humanity, emphasized during times of fighting, and the consequences of a senseless retribution culture. Recognizing the sanctity of all human life, whether that life be a friend or foe, is exhibited by all characters to various extents. Saying everyone values their friends is a trivial statement of fact as mutual appreciation is a widely accepted prerequisite for friendship. However, the characters in the film portrayed as “good” are able to overcome their own prejudices to kindly engage with human beings others refuse to. Some more apparent examples of such characters are Vanya and Dima with their love surviving the hatred on both sides. Even Abul, who initially was only interested in preserving the POWs’ lives for negotiating power in his son’s release, ultimately decides to spare Vanya despite the news his son had died. This was an incredibly intense and powerful moment as Abul exercises mercy while mourning his son’s death.

Another theme I took away from the film was the futility of retribution for retribution’s sake. When the prisoners were brought into enemy lines, they were exposed to a different, perhaps uncomfortable perspective. Destruction at home is one thing, but seeing the fruit of your own labor and the hatred it has groomed is more troublesome—they are nearly shot because of it. The tongue-less and later murdered Hasan, slain son of Abdul, and final bombing of the village all evoke the question: is the only end to knee-jerk vengeance the extinction of an entire side?

Only those who subscribe to the belief that human life is intrinsically valuable will see a sensible resolution, and that is how the themes relate. Others, like Sacha, are heartless and predisposed to answer affirmatively, succumbing to their own biases.

Pechorin is the story’s main character, and he’s the dictionary definition of an antihero. He acts on his desires and manipulates others in order to achieve what he wants, often with little to no regard of the impact he has on others. Take the abduction of Bela, for example. Pechorin had Azamat steal his own sister to give to Pechorin in exchange for the chance to steal someone’s horse. This negatively impacted several lives, including Bela’s, who became depressed after being abducted, Azamat, who had to go into hiding and likely got himself killed in a guerrilla army, and Kazbich, who had his prized possession stolen. All of these negative actions were a result of Pechorin’s selfish desires to have Bela as a lover. Bela’s initial misery may be overlooked by her eventual love towards Pechorin, but he then started to ignore her, again fitting the antihero mold by abandoning someone after he had seemingly grown bored of her, according to his friend Max.

Despite his often-negative impact on others and his inability to recognize those impacts, I believe that Pechorin can truly love someone, just in his own way. After Kazbich returned to the castle they were staying at and abducted Bela, Pechorin chased after him to get her back. When she was stabbed, Pechorin was visibly anguished over his lover’s mortal injuries. His attempts at reviving her through kisses at the moment she was stabbed illustrate a distraught man desperately trying to save someone he cares about. If he didn’t truly love her, I believe that he would not have been so distraught over her stabbing. In the same vein, he refused to leave her bedside, even when she told him to rest, only leaving to get her water. I believe these are the actions of a man deeply invested in someone he loves, even though he couldn’t show it before. Other instances of what I believe is real love include after her abduction, when Pechorin is doing his best to console her, as someone who is indifferent towards a woman wouldn’t have put in that kind of effort.

This points to the notion of a complex, nuanced character who embodies more than just the spirit of a selfish man, but also someone capable of feeling powerful connections and true pain.

I thought the Prisoner of the Mountains was an intriguing film. I’m generally quite interested in war films, but the ones that seem to be the most popular focus on Western Europe, so watching one about Russia was a breath of fresh air. The film puts a Russian twist on love, war, and cultural differences. What is truly intriguing is the way the Chechens and Russians approached war, and more specifically, the conflict between the two sides. The idea of empathy, at least from the view of the Russian military, is looked down upon heavily. Russian dominance is more valuable to the Russian army than anything else. The Chechens, however, are pushed to their motives because of a desire to remain free. It is rare to see a movie highlighting the quiet power of the Chechens, as towns like the one featured are isolated and quickly overrun by Russians. The introduction of the Chechens is especially powerful, as the first scene with Abdul highlights the quiet power his people have. Although Abdul and his people have Sasha and Vanya entirely at their mercy, the decision to not immediately kill the two is remarkable. Abdul’s decision to not kill Vanya at the end of the film is especially impressive considering the next few scenes showing Russian helicopters heading to annihilate the village. This irony showed indicated to me that the decisions of a few people might put off the illusion of peace, but it is the big corporations (or armies, in this case) that have a more significant influence in war.

I seem to find an enduring theme of the imbalance of power in Sergei Bodrov’s “Prisoner of the Mountains.” The two scenes that seem to compliment this theme are the fight scene between Vanya and the shirtless fighter and the final one of the movie. The fighting scene was shocking as most movies nowadays would have turned this underdog story into a powerful moment of character development for Vanya. What happens, in reality, is that the “Goliath” in this case dismisses the fight and abstains from the utter domination of the young soldier. This idea of those in power, rejecting the expression of their power, is something shared by the rural folk community. Vanya should have been shot at the end of the movie, but his captor who had absolute power at that moment (gun aimed at Vanya’s head) rejected this choice and walked off. Dina, although influenced by love, gave Vanya the key to his shackles, although she knew he was supposed to die as revenge for her brother. This is contrasted ironically with the last scene of the movie, where four attack helicopters are seen rushing towards the unequipped rural community. In this case, the Russians are seen to be rushing to enact revenge on the folk community. The Russians are far more armed and far more powerful from the poor mountain dwellers, and they will probably still crush and demolish the village. I think this choice of abstinence reveals the nature of the Russian waring spirit. Knowing that Russia was almost invariably under siege/at war, the reaction seen by the army is probably to show the war-hardened nature of the country. The folk people are not used to the war life and still see people as people (Some townfolk come to like the prisoners), but the Russian state only sees another war it needs to carry out.

While reading the “Bela” section of A Hero of our Time, I was intrigued by the language used to describe love as well as the impact love had on the characters in the story.  When Pechorin first sees Bella, he is “completely absorbed” (29). However, despite this strong feeling towards Bella, the way he goes about his feelings is peculiar (along with quite problematic) to the modern reader.  The blatantly transactional road to love presented in Pechorin’s deal with Bella’s brother–that Pechorin will help him acquire a horse for “Bella in return” completely undercuts Bela’s feelings, emotions, and humanity and is quite objectifying (35).  But, it is more complex in terms of what the text is saying about love. Could it be (in a twisted way, albeit) considered romantic? Or does it comment on a larger phenomenon of Russian culture? What is love in Russian culture?  Passion? Transaction? Does one marry for love or power?

However, this idea behind love grows increasingly complex and the narrative continues.  When Pechorin first tells Bella that he loves her, she comments that she feels as though she is his “slave” and “prisoner” (40).  While women being in unhappy, oppressive relationships is, unfortunately, common throughout life and literature, the fact that Lermontov emphasizes Pechorin’s love of Bela is fascinating.  That despite being loved, Bella does not reciprocate those feelings, at first at least.  

But, as seems usual in Russian literature, happiness does not reign for long.  Soon after Bela is able to love Pechorin back, she is killed, resulting in Pechorin’s later depressed, ill state the story ends with.  All of the heartbreak and tragedy experienced at the end of the story can be traced by Pechorin’s love for Bela and his desire for her to love him too.  However, that love results in death and depression–the exact opposite of love. Perhaps “Bela” can be considered a precautionary tale of the danger of love, as love in the story lead to anything but in the long run.    Is falling in love something to look towards or something to fear in Russian culture?