Russian gender roles, as observed through the texts for today, share many features with adjacent Western societies. “A Husband Must Teach His Wife How to Please God and Her Husband, Arrange Her Home Well, and Know All That Is Necessary for Domestic Order and Every Kind of Handicraft, So She May Teach and Supervise Servants,” the 29th entry in the Domostroi, emphasizes the parallel between the cult of domesticity in Ivan the Terrible’s Russia and that transmitted from Ancient Greece and Rome. Examining the Russian folk costumes, we can also see how Russian women were expected to dress increasingly modestly throughout their lives and conceal their hair except in the presence of their husbands and blood relatives, an Ancient Greek parallel. By contrast, the men’s attire has clear parallels to that of other steppe cultures, being suitable for manual labor yet vibrant enough for special occasions. It is not too hard to find other patriarchal trends in other Russian cultural outlets.

None of this is to dismiss the unique aspects of Russian patriarchy. What stood out to me with The Tsar’s Bride was how it acknowledged the hardships traceable to the above system. Granted, it is a difficult work to periodize: a 1960’s adaptation of a late 19th-century opera set in the 16th century. Still, I am not convinced that the subtext is exclusive to any one era. The men of the film leverage their authority to neglect any duty to the women and institutions around them. Both Grigori and Ivan the Terrible lust for Martha, sabotaging her impending marriage and ultimately unraveling her sanity. In the process, Grigori abandons Liubasha, giving her agony. When Liubasha sets out to thwart Grigori’s scheme to drug Martha and end his infatuation, she is assaulted by Bomeliy and coerced to love him. Her objections clearly surface. Her experience is not denied.

The Tsar’s Bride is not a feminist film — its characterization Martha and Liubasha is too rooted to the men and its attitude toward the brutality they face is too passive. If anything, I am most reminded of Princess Anna’s forced marriage to Vladimir in The Tales of Bygone Years: she voices her objections, yet the men around her overrule her liberty. I wonder if this acknowledgement of but ambivalence toward the hardships of Russian women will come up in other texts.