Featuring great performances from its three lead performers, this Russian picture -- one of the nominees for Best Foreign Language Film at this year's Oscars -- is often compelling, but unfortunately falls apart as it nears its conclusion. Up until the story suddenly crashes under the weight of plot contrivances and an awkward jump ahead in time, however, it's an intriguing look at life in post WWII, Stalinist Russia.
Filmed in a bleak, near monochromic fashion, writer/director Pavel Chukhrai has delivered a symbolic exposé of thievery occurring among many differing, yet connected levels. The film certainly shows the effects of Stalin's grip on his country in that era, and how nearly everything in the citizen's lives -- such as money and happiness -- has been "stolen" from them by the government.
People are downtrodden and poverty is everywhere, all of which proves to be an effective contrast to the charming, and apparently well to do soldier who temporarily, but falsely brightens the lives of those he encounters.
Then there's the stealing of people's hearts, where that title character not only sweeps the young and desperate mother from her feet with the hopes of a better life, but also ultimately betrays the young boy who slowly but surely grows to see the man as his father.
Having replaced the visions of the real father he never knew with this man and then losing the rest of his family indirectly due to Tolyan's actions, Sanya realizes he can never have them back and eventually takes what he believes to be appropriate recourse for such thievery.
The most obvious component in this theme -- the soldier as a common burglar -- rounds out the symbolism, and the total of this multilayered approach gives the film great depth and makes it nearly always compelling to watch.
Unfortunately, Chukhrai allows everything to unravel as the story draws to a close. Perhaps material was edited from this release -- which might explain the haphazardness that follows -- but once Tolyan is sent away to prison, events suddenly occur out of nowhere and the story flashes forward in time to bring the plot to its end.
While the story obviously needed a conclusion, what's presented feels forced and contrived. Although a few other parts of the film feel the same way -- such as Katya suddenly taking her son and moving in with a stranger after a brief, vertical liaison in a train hallway -- the ending, while symbolically clear, doesn't feel congruous with the rest of the film. It's as if Chukhrai didn't know how to get out of the situation he had created, and the haphazardly constructed and presented scenes that end the film betray what had been built up before then.
The cast members, however, deliver great performances that make up for most of those problems. Vladimir Mashkov, as the titular being, creates a compelling character who's equally charming, menacing and, at times, a near-loving father-like figure. While we grow to dislike him as does Katya, we can't help but be mesmerized by the character and Mashkov's performance.
Ekaterina Rednikova plays the desperate mother, and delivers a poignant take on a character who will put up with nearly anything as long as she believes there's a glimmer of hope and belief that having a thief for a "husband" is better than having no one at all.
The real find, and scene stealer, however, is young newcomer Misha Philipchuck. About as natural a child actor as they come, this saucer-eyed boy is not only completely believable in his role, but his facial expressions and reactions -- ranging the total gamut of childhood emotions in a still complex, and yet to be understood adult world -- are often priceless and certainly don't betray his thespian naiveness.
If not for the fact that the picture collapses in the last ten or so minutes, this would have been a near tremendous effort. As it stands, it's still quite good, and its performances and strong -- if not bleak -- visual qualities will stick with you for quite some time after seeing it. We give "The Thief" a 7 out of 10.