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Rating: "Curiosity killed the cat" is a well-known English saying to express the end of a great expectation that can animate not only a cat but also a human being. In this case, which inspired my review of the film "DAU. Natasha", fortunately, my skin wasn't at stake, but certainly, the hype before the movie's release made me think of an intriguing work that didn't quite seem that way to me.
First, it should be noted that the two directors of the film (Ilya Khrzhanovsky and Jekaterina Oertel) started in 2006 with grand projects such as a biopic of the Russian scientist Lev Landau, who lived in Soviet Russia during Stalin's era. To do this, thanks to appropriate funding, they recreated the Dau Institute over an area of 12,000 sqm in Ukraine and filmed a total of 700 hours of footage. Not only that, but the personnel employed in this endeavor (mostly non-professional actors and actresses) worked and lived in this kind of citadel (like a Cinecittà) for 3 consecutive years, exactly like in Stalinist Russia, without ever leaving the workplace. Thinking of it as a truly insane endeavor, it seems like semi-slave working conditions, akin to a "The Truman Show" in Soviet sauce.
Having said that about the aforementioned initial grand project, the film "DAU. Natasha" was presented at the Berlin Film Festival in 2020, which is just a slice of the titanic undertaking (and therefore other feature films tied to the initial idea will follow). The film focuses on the deeds of this canteen worker (Natasha) in a scientific research institute when Stalinist Russia favored scientific operators. The woman doesn't have it easy in such a cramped environment, dealing with barely passable food and a young colleague, Olga, with whom there are no shortages of spats and tricks of various kinds. In this grey routine, an unexpected passionate attraction arises between Natasha and a French scientist guest at the institute, but it's well known that in such environments, even the walls have ears. The unfortunate woman will have to deal with a rough KGB inquisitor who, by merely showing what she could suffer if she doesn't cooperate, forces her to write a baseless written report against the French lover and declare herself available to inform the KGB about suspicious elements and events.
What doesn't work completely in the film? In my opinion, the screenplay dwells too much on the bickering between the two women (a bit like gossip between housewives), neglecting other characters on stage who are not adequately presented under various psychological angles. In fact, it seems caricatured to present them as mainly attached to food orgies and devoted to drinking liters of vodka (yes, we're in Russia, but they are still scientists...). Only in the final part (after an hour and a half of the film) does it regain altitude with the interrogation, faced by Natasha, by the KGB officer. Here, if the general atmosphere was already grey, there is truly a leaden climate of distressing inquisition (typical of all dictatorial regimes) that one cannot escape and which coerces the will of the interrogated (if they prefer survival over death...).
Considering the general conditions in which the film was shot, I would say it impresses how the divide between cinematic fiction and reality is almost imperceptible. There are intense scenes during the aforementioned interrogation, and the actress playing Natasha is forced to completely undress and insert a vodka bottle neck into her vagina. Not to mention the long sequence where the protagonist mates wildly with the French scientist: here, nothing is simulated, it's pure porn. But a warning for fans of the "sex and flesh" genre: the Natasha in question doesn't have a well-built body, she's thin and bony, with sagging breasts. So don't be too misled by the accompanying movie poster, simply because you'll find desexualized nude scenes. As if to say there isn't much excitement for the viewer seeking strong emotions.
If anything, the film's strength lies in the perception, by the viewer, of the stale air in the interiors where the action takes place. In that canteen, just to say, the main dish is dried fish accompanied by liters of vodka. And I seemed to really sense the stench in such a shabby and rancid environment to the point of feeling a sense of claustrophobia. And I'm not exaggerating by saying, in conclusion, that it had never happened to me to leave the screening room and breathe relieved and cheerful with full lungs the air outside the venue. Sure, it's still the unhealthy air of Milan, but how does it compare with what was usually breathed in Soviet Russia?
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