As I read “Night,” it became clear to me that I wasn’t reading a story about a series of logical events but rather a story about a series of emotional ones. If “The Nose” and “Heart of the Dog” are low grade fever dreams, then “Night” can be rated at a temperature of 107.

Half of my time reading “Night” was spent trying to figure out what the characters in the story were. “Mommy” is clearly some kind of maternal entity, and Alexei clearly is her son. And though Alexei acts very much in line with a child (begging for sweets and becoming endearingly rowdy at times,) his appearance suggests otherwise. He is described as having a “bald spot” on his head (curiously like “mommy”), “yellow” teeth, hairy hands, and a “disfigured face.” In addition, he seems to be capable of sudden fits of violence, as shown when he “trampled” on what seemed to either be the money pieces he stole or possibly even the people attacking him.

Despite his strangeness and the fact that the the writing frequently and convincingly reflects his manic, childish mind, I was made to feel pity for him. The feverish way he is depicted going through life and the way he falls victim to a cruel society without the protection of “Mommy” seem to both critique dependency and social injustice. The world he lives in is depicted as being terribly cruel, so cruel that Alexei seems to be doomed at the end of the story to scrawl “night” over and over as a perverse fulfillment of his dream of being a writer. Alexi seems inspired (or driven insane) by a bad experience, and this is heartbreaking.

If i’m being completely honest this work was really hard to understand and gather meaning from. One overall theme that I noticed however was the theme of rotation. Shed XII maintains a fascination with bicycles throughout the text. This fascination completes its course when it turns into a plan bicycle in the end of the story. However, loops, circles, motorcycles, wheels and barrels all make an appearance in the text. Usually these circular objects where aided by a sense of motion and travel as the bicycle itself was a symbol of escape. However the idea of circles and rotation were used as both a way to display off-landish fantasies, but also as a form of imprisonment, as in the case of the barrels. I could possibly understand the duality of the motif of rotation as a symbol of cycles. In that case rotation would bring about a new horizon and a new alien experience, but in the end one is stuck in the same loop: leading to a trapped feeling. I might be reading too much into the idea, but the sheer amount of circular/rotational type things in this text can’t be for nothing. I was also confused when the shed starts dreaming of becoming a battleship as his escapist day-dreams almost always took the form of a bicycle. A battleship doesn’t have a concrete shape and generally symbolizes war and industrialization. Overall I was very confused by this text, especially about the ending, but context will surely help.

The contemplation of personhood within this text is so interesting! The shed in this story becomes more than a storage place, but an animate being whose feelings and actions are relayed to us. The level of personal awareness in Number XII is amazing. Pelevin writes:

The Night after the painting (when he had been given his Roman numeral, his name–the other sheds around him all had ordinary numbers), he held up his tar-papered roof to the moon as he dried. “Where am I?” he thought. “Who am I?” (48)

These questions guide the story, as Number XII tries to find more meaning in his life than just being a storage unit. The distinction of the shed’s name, color, and use from the other storage spaces emphasizes the shed’s individuality. When Number XII talked with the garage, Number 13 and 14, he realized that they were pessimistic and squandered Number XII’s thoughts and aspirations. Number XII also saw difference in how he was used: to store bicycles and other hardware, where the others housed food and other agricultural products. I think it is another interesting point that Number XII dreams of being a bicycle, to rush along deserted highways into the sunset– to be in constant motion. This contrasts from his companions, who believe it is a ridiculous dream and want nothing more than to stay sedentary–without motion. Number XII’s fight to retain his individuality is intensified when the other sheds constantly criticize and talk among themselves.  This is further complicated when the bicycles are replaced with a barrel of pickled cucumbers that are wheeled through Number XII’s doors. Slowly, Number XII’s mind is transformed by the stench of fermenting cucumbers, in which he is changed to be more like Number 13 and 14. Once again, Number XII provides insight to his personal thoughts, stating:

On the one hand, he felt himself the equal of Numbers 13 and 14, and yet on the other hand, buried somewhere deep inside him, there remained a sense of terrible injustice about what had happened to him. But his new existence’s center was located in the barrel, which emitted the constant gurgling and crackling sounds that had replaced the imagined whooshing of tires over concrete ( 54).

I think the questions and thoughts that Number XII’s story conjures is an important one. One may be drawn to self-reflection; are we true to our goals, or are we shaped by our environment?

Tatyana Tolstaya’s “Night”, as Gabe previously alluded to, seems on its surface a description of Russian life for Alexei, a mentally disabled adult, and his mother.  However, there is definitely something more significant beneath the surface of Alexei and his mother’ rather mundane life.

I thought it was interesting how Alexei is depicting as wanting to be a writer and is aware of Pushkin and appears to be inspired by his work.  Additionally, the comment that “Alexei Petrovich has his world, the real one, in his head.  There everything is possible.  And this one, the outer one, is wicked and wrong.  And it’s very hard to keep in mind what’s good and what’s bad” interested me as well (189).  The idea between living in two separate worlds, an inner world of multiple possibilities, and an outer world that is oppressive could perhaps give a glimpse into what life and the creative process is like for writers, artists, etc. living in Russia during this time.  On one hand, Alexei has his inner world in which anything is possible.  Additionally, his dependence on his mother gives off a sense of innocence–he is still able to dream and imagine despite his rather unfortunate situation.  On the other hand, his mother is fully aware of his reality and acts as a guide for him.  In other words, she balances out his imagination that can sometimes run wild.  Perhaps their relationship shows the inner-workings of how the creative process works in Russia.  Artists and Alexei, like Alexei, live in two separate worlds in which they are constantly trying to balance.  In their imagination they are free, but in the contact instability of Russia they are not.

On the surface, Tolstaya’s short story Night depicts the day of a mentally challenged man named Alexei who is being cared for by his mother, but I think that this story is an allegory for Russia in the contemporary world. The man acts as a child would, understanding the world not for what it was, unable to live an independent life.

We know the main character is a fully grown man by the several allusions to his balding head and his beard, as well as the way people treat him. They’re uncomfortable with his childish and immature actions, and treat him like a pariah when they see him outside. This is because he can’t control himself, and he acts like a child. I think this is an allegory for Russia in the late Soviet period, with a child that was born out of pain, and never really grew up to be what he was supposed to be, instead becoming a misfit.

I interpret this “birth from pain” to be the Russian revolution and the wars surrounding the Soviet Union’s inception. In addition to that parallel, the Soviet Union had ambitions to become a global powerhouse, but as time went on, that vision faded and the country sort of floundered, much like Alexei, who wanted to be a writer but is instead a man who hasn’t matured in a normal, healthy way.

Based on this analysis, I’m not exactly sure who the mother is meant to represent. Based  on her tired and disheartened appearance, I imagine she’s meant to represent somebody who tried to set the USSR on a positive path, but is now a sort of caretaker. If Night is meant to be an allegory, who do you think Alexei is, and who do you think the mother is?

Films like Anna are always striking. The significant events of life and the world are often seen through the harsh, and often pessimistic, eyes of an adult. Using a child, however, gives a more pure and maybe more honest perspective. The eye of a child offers a unique perspective on huge events such as the ones happening in the Soviet Union during Anna’s life. We can see not only the development and change in Russia but the observations and insights a young girl offers. In a way, viewers can see two transformations. We see the transformation of the Soviet Union to Russia, and we see Anna’s transformation from an innocent child to an introspective young woman. Mikhail’s skill in filmmaking is apparent, as he can intertwine Anna’s answers into the perfect spot, surrounded by actual footage to compare and contrast to Anna’s perspective. 

As Anna grows up, it is also apparent to see her notice of structural changes and flaws in her country. Most young people go through this awakening, as they see the flaws in their nation. There becomes a desire to fix things for their future and the generations following them. I found the film to be especially powerful as Anna cried in the last scene while talking about her future, her fears, and her feelings. It becomes apparent that Anna is patriotic and wants her country to change for the better. 

One aspect of Anna that stood out to me was the simultaneous exploration of the end of the Soviet era on two scales: the broadcasts seen by tens of millions, and the father-daughter relationship ordinarily only visible to a handful of people. Breaking from an oblique treatment of official state iconography in the privately produced Soviet works we have seen this semester (barring Burnt by the Sun by the same director), Nikita Mikhalkov makes extensive use of footage of national leaders, military parades, Congress of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, anthem recitals, state funerals, Young Pioneer conferences, the Olympics, state funerals, concerts, and other major events. It is easy to see the national cult attested by Mikhalkov through the footage and make sense of his daughter Anna’s fears of war and not saying the right thing. At the same time, we never get the sense that the official footage is the complete picture of the era. The dirt road that reappears in the final scene and the shots of peasants show a barrier on the scope of the televised image of the country. Sure enough, Anna’s first series of responses make no reference to the nation as presented on television, while her later responses gradually dispute previous points about the efficacy of the Soviet systems. Hence, in addition to giving context to Anna’s perspective, the footage juxtaposed with with Anna’s interviews conveys the loss of a teleological narrative, a rift between the state image and ordinary lives, and ultimately the collapse of the country.

In viewing the film, it is important to acknowledge Mikhalkov’s unusual status within the Soviet Union. On the one hand, he is an ideological dissident in his Orthodox Christian views, aristocratic heritage, and rejection of communism. On the other hand, his father wrote the lyrics to the “State Anthem of the Soviet Union” and his family clearly enjoys privileges unknown to most Soviet citizens. It recalls a dynamic from 19th-century works wherein the artist has a vested interest in the institutions they critique. While we should thus be careful not to deem the  film an objective view of the late Soviet Union, we should also recognize its value as a Russian motif.

*Edited to further develop the second paragraph.

In Anna, Nikita Mikhalkov illustrates the shift in the Russian political awareness during Perestroika using the development of his daughter from child to young woman. As a young child, Anna is not yet cognizant of the malevolent forces at play in the world. Her worst enemy is borsch, her least favorite soup. At this time, to an extent the soviet government was still able to distract its citizens from its internal inadequacies. Magnificent shows of military and industrial might kept unease at bay for now, but theatrics can only do so much. As she grows older, she slowly begins to lose her childish qualities and begins to notice structural issues within her society. Her father notices “the locks she [Anna] forged” and realizes that he might never gain access. The lock metaphor demonstrates that the creation of these boundaries was not immediate but a gradual shift that was facilitated by the natural aging process and the collection of experiences. Locks are installed to keep intruders out and to protect precious possessions. Anna now holds delicate emotions that she does not want to be tarnished. In her interview with her father, she points out that soviet clothing is not great quality, and the new clothing is better. This moment marks the beginning of the development of her social consciousness, and consequently, the beginning of the national revival that took place during Perestroika. 

This film prompted me to consider my own coming of age story. While I appreciate this wonderful documentary, I would hate to be Anna and have a camera following me around during, arguably, the most tender moments of my life.

Anna: 6 – 18  was a outstanding documentary film, where Mikalkov was able to use his own daughter as a microcosm to show the impact of a radically changing government, and how political instability and ideology penetrates adolescence.  There is a literary device called a metonymy, where a part is used to stand in for a whole: wheels for a car, crown for a king. Mikalkov is attempting to create a metonymy with his daughter, distilling the degrading nation into growing psyche of one of its children.

Although as a piece of art the film was beautiful, I was shocked at Mikalkov’s willingness to use his daughter for public art. Although most of these images weren’t violating privacy, the famous director is still framing and editing an interpretation of his own daughter for a clearly fixed political agenda. He is making the private public for a person who, because of her age, cannot control what her public appearance may be. This is supported by years later Anna stating she felt the film was “a dissection of her private life.”

I understand that this is a very liberal-minded argument, one that I personally don’t fully agree with. But I was wondering if I could open up this conversation to the class and hear other opinions. Did you find it unethical for Mikalkov to exploit intimate family moments with his daughter to create such a film? Or is this under his providence as a father? Or does that sort of publicizing the private not matter at all?

I found Mikhalkov’s documentary film Anna to be an incredibly moving and brilliant use of cinematography to encapsulate over 10 years of Russian history through a combination of Mikhalkov’s daughter’s personal accounts and references to the momentous national events during the collapse of the Soviet Union. While Mikhalkov began the project, the act of filming and producing a personal movie violated the censorship laws and put creators at danger. For Mikhalkov, a nationally renowned filmmaker, he must have known that the film and his act of political deviance could have immense impact. Anna is a creative child who is afraid of witches and wants a crocodile as a pet. She grows up to be an idealistic teenager  whose sentiments become more reflective of her environment, such as her fear of war and prediction of a “bright future” for her country where people are free to do as they want. I think that Anna’s awareness of the world around her and her faith in her country is a testament to both the human spirit and the national strength of Russia. The composition of the documentary does a beautiful job of interspersing the newsreel footage, often chaotic and violent, with the intimate conversations between Anna and her father, often amongst more peaceful countryside scenery.  This allows the audience to see a young girl grow up in a time of tumult and instability, yet still hope for a future and find a home in her country. At the end of the documentary, Anna comments that she is afraid of what will happen when she leaves Russia for Switzerland and how the country will change in her absence, yet she also says that a homeland is a place that you can believe in and you have to love. I think that the documentary serves an important historical and primary source through which to study the fall of the Soviet Union, and also a powerful testament to the stress, fear, and hope in the lives of the Russian people at this time.