Between Waking and Dreaming: A Review of “Ivan’s Childhood”
Director: Andrei Tarkovsky
Writers: Vladimir Bogomolov, Mikhail Papava, Andrei Tarkovsky (uncredited), Andrey Konchalovsky (uncredited)
Based on the short story “Ivan” by Vladimir Bogomolov
Starring: Nikolay Burlyaev, Valentin Zubkov, Evgeniy Zharikov, Stepan Krylov, Valentina Malyavina
Running Time: 95 Minutes
Puma Rating: Two Paws Up
When the horrors of war become too much to bear, sometimes the only sanctuary we have is simple fantasy. Or, in the case of the titular Russian orphan Ivan, dreams. What makes Tarkovsky’s World War II film stand out is its insistence on gentleness in the face of unrelenting devastation. While most movies about this conflict justifiably showcase the violence and depravity it wrought, Tarkovsky relies on the striking contrast between the dreaming sequences of his film’s two most innocent characters and the pockmarked wasteland of their waking reality.
Ivan Bondarev is a Soviet orphan who joined the partisans after losing his family to the Nazis. When the partisans attempted to protect him from the war by placing him in a children’s home, Ivan ran away and became a scout for the Russian army. It is in this role that we first meet him, trudging up the hill of a desolate land surrounded by bodies and destructions, his mind singularly focused on fighting the Nazis who destroyed his life. Nikolay Burlyaev’s performance as Ivan is brilliant. One minute assertive and harsh, the next vulnerable and begging to remain by the side of the military officers whom he has come to see as a newfound family, Burlyaev is extraordinary at striking a balance between Ivan’s anger and his vulnerability. Some of the most moving scenes involve his relationship with Captain Kholin (Zubkov), a senior officer whom Ivan treats as a father figure. For his part, Zubkov brings a level of sentimentality masked by macho humor to Kholin, who obviously wants to adopt Ivan but knows that staying by his side and continuing to be a part of the war effort is not good for the boy.
Zubkov expertly shows the cracks in Captain Kholin’s confident and sardonic veneer, particularly in his scenes with Valentina Malyavina, who plays Masha, a medical assistant that both Kholin and young Lieutenant Galtsev (Zharikov) fall in love with. A lesser actor would have depicted Kholin as a one-note predator. Yet, Zubkov seamlessly conveys the yearning for love and stability underlying Kholin’s hunger for Masha. As the stoic and dutiful Galtsev, Zharikov’s performance lies mostly in his eyes and tone of voice. Without over-emoting, he is able to show Galtsev’s desire for Masha, his disdain for Kholin and his concern over Ivan – sometimes within the space of a single sequence. There is a scene at the end that relies almost entirely upon Galtsev’s silent reaction to some news. Zharikov’s highly naturalistic conveyance of Galtsev’s shock and grief is brilliantly heartbreaking.
As great as the acting is in this film, it is the dream sequences that make “Ivan’s Childhood” almost subversive in its handling of how World War II destroyed the innocence of so many. For example, the film opens with Ivan dreaming in a forest bathed in light and full of animals, seeing his mother and joyfully flying over the landscape. A bomb sound effect marking the transition to Ivan’s subsequent awakening in a dark field full of corpses, absent of the animals Ivan loves and ravaged by bombs makes a heartbreaking contrast that shows what the war has deprived him of. Masha’s feverish daydreaming after Kholin gives her her first kiss – marked by dizzyingly swirling POV shots of the trees in a wood near the military base – is tragically interrupted by the sound of guns and a second shot of two soldiers whom the Nazis executed and ungraciously left to rot. The violent sound transitions and the contrast between dreamy, well-lit landscapes and rhapsodic feelings of joy and the ugly reality in which the characters now find themselves provide a stark portrait of innocence imperiled by wartime degradation. Tarkovsky relies frequently throughout the film upon sequences like these, providing the audience with a stunning evocation of the characters’ pain without resorting to explicitly staged acts of violence. One almost gets the impression that he is either trying to give his audience the kind of shelter from depravity that Ivan and Masha do not get, or he is declining to validate the Nazis by minimizing their presence in the film.
Lighting and sound also provide a fantastic perspective into the characters’ war-damaged psyche. For instance, when Kholin and the other officers leave base for an operation, Ivan is left to play by himself in Galtsev’s quarters. His game of pretend quickly devolves into an extended fantasy sequence where he can get revenge on the Nazis who murdered his family. Yet, the setting never switches to some hackneyed flashback. Instead, the disembodied sounds of people crying, gunshots and Nazi voices, coupled with shadows punctuated by spotlights on items like a military coat hanging from a wall, illustrate the full tragedy of a child’s game interrupted by past trauma. Burlyaev’s performance is at its best here, as he expertly hits all the beats of Ivan’s fractured mind. He goes from lighthearted pretending into fully realized rage and pain within a matter of seconds. It is the highlight of the film, something that only those with hearts of stone would never be able to forget.
“Ivan’s Childhood” is a magnificent film that will stay with you long after the credits have rolled. While there is a place for showing historical atrocities in their complete ugliness, there is also something to be said for Tarkovsky’s focusing the action only on the souls caught in this devasting conflict and allowing the violence to only be hinted at in fleeting sound transitions, lighting effects and the overall set design. It is as if he is reminding us that at the heart of World War II were people who continued to breathe and fight, even after all was taken from them. It is an excellent message to remember, especially in these times of conflict and uncertainty.
