The Kiss / Potsilunok

Lieutenant Riabovych leads a monotonous life of an officer, and he finds it difficult to adapt to a different life – the social one: polite conversations, cards, billiards, encounters with women. During one of these random encounters in the house of a small landowner, a woman kisses Riabovych. And now the half-fictional image of her occupies the officer’s thoughts. Meanwhile, the carefree Lieutenant Lobytko teases his gentle friend, unaware of the danger.

Roman Balaian stated that this hour-long production, intended for television, which he created immediately after the success of Flights in Dreams and in Reality (1982), is one of the best in his filmography — or, perhaps, even his favorite (occasionally placing it in second place after Lone Wolf (1977)). He characterizes The Kiss as a “classical music concert for the philharmonic admirers” and emphasizes that on the set of this film, no concessions were made for the audience. Director even turned Oleg Yankovskii into not just another charismatic antihero, but a “fly” that crawls across the screen but doesn’t act.

The Kiss is, in many ways, a programmatic work: in the director’s characteristic moral ambivalence, in his specific attitude to Russian literature as a source of inspiration – Balaian is more attracted to the vivid imagery of Chekhov, Tolstoi, Leskov, etc., than to social or ethical issues. This resembles Bergman’s relationship with Strindberg. In addition, the remarkable scene of Lieutenant Riabovych wandering through the landowner’s house, where the rooms are filled with darkness and eerie mystery, unexpectedly echoes the best moments of Fanny and Alexander. It should be added that the best scenes of The Kiss are the merit not only of Balaian but also of his steadfast co-author, the outstanding master of the Ukrainian cinematography school, Vilen Kaliuta.