There’s a great deal of macabre gusto in this Soviet chiller about a
band of ghostly hunters. It’s chilly, atmospheric and beautifully
photographed--and so warrants a recommendation, even though I’m not
overjoyed with the film as a whole.
The Package
The 1979 SAVAGE HUNT OF KING STACH (DIKAYA OKHOTA
KOROLYA STAKHA), based on the
1964 novel by Uladzimir Karatkievic, is
credited by some as the “first” Soviet mystical thriller. Whoever made
that claim evidently didn’t know about previous (and superior) Soviet
horror-fests like VIY
and THE EVE OF IVAN
KUPALO. In any event, THE SAVAGE HUNT was extremely well
received, winning a myriad of prestigious awards at film festivals
around the world.
The Story
Sometime in the late 19th Century, Andrej, a
naïve young man, happens upon a creepy manor one night. As he learns
from the apathetic old woman servant who answers the door, the place is
the abode of the Janowskis, a centuries old clan whose members have
largely died off. The winsome young Nadzieja Janowska, who’s currently
residing in the manor, is the only surviving Janowski.
She’s terrified by a tiny man whose appearance
supposedly portends death, a spectral lady in blue and, most of all, the
“Savage Hunt” of the ghostly King Stach. It seems that back in the 17th
Century King Stach was betrayed and murdered by one of Nadzieja’s
ancestors, but before he died the King vowed to track down and
exterminate the entire Janowski line. Since then the King’s ghost and
those of twenty of his subordinates are said to haunt the area, all
riding spectral horses.
Andrej is immediately convinced that the King and his
hunters are actually flesh-and-blood villagers passing themselves off as
spirits. He also discovers the source of the ghostly woman in blue: it’s
actually Nadzieja herself, an incurable sleepwalker.
One evening Andrej sees the Savage Hunt for the first
time, and is nearly trampled. He informs a local police commissioner of
what occurred, but the latter is completely unhelpful. Concluding that
he’ll have to deal with his problems on his own, Andrej sets about
ferreting out the real perpetrators of the Savage Hunt. In the process
he runs into the tiny man who so terrified Nadzieja (actually a midget
locked in the cellar of the Janowski manor) and affects a final
confrontation with the Savage Hunt.
The Direction
Director Valery Rubinchik demonstrates some bad habits
(including much zoom lens abuse and clumsily utilized slow motion), but
the dark-hued beauty of the photography, the creative sound design and
the deeply ominous atmosphere are all impressive. The Belorussian
locations are impeccably chosen, with the exteriors marked by overcast
skies and dead trees, while the main interior set is a sumptuously
designed gothic funhouse. The sequences inside the manor are stark and
melodramatic in the mode of a Hammer programmer, but there are also
quieter, more poetic moments (such as the eerie first appearance of the
Savage Hunt) that wouldn’t feel out of place in the cinema of
Rubinchik’s fellow countrymen Andrei Tarkovsky and Alexander Sokurov.
What’s ultimately disappointing about the film is the
very thing I find most irritating about the Karatkievič novel: the
insistence on rationally explaining away all the supernatural events
a la SCOOBY-DOO. In some ways that tendency is even more grating
here than in the novel, as Valery Rubinchik does such a painstaking job
crafting an ambiance of supernatural menace. There are admittedly some
bravura visuals in the final moments, when the King’s hunters are
unmasked and revealed as scarecrows and skeletons, but it’s a shame
Rubinchik didn’t follow the film’s mystical edge through to the end.
Vital Statistics
THE SAVAGE HUNT OF KING STACH (DIKAYA OKHOTA KOROLYA STAKHA)
Belarusfilm Studio
Director: Valery Rubinchik
Screenplay: Vladimir Korotkevich, Valery Rubinchik
(Based on a novel by Uładzimir Karatkievič)
Cinematography: Tatiana Loginova
Cast: Boris Plotnikov, Yelena Dimitrova, Igor Klass, Alexander
Kharitonov, Boris Khmelnitsky, Albert Filozov, Valentina Shendrikova,
Roman Filippov, Vladimir Fyodorov, Maria Kapnist