Review of Leviathan (2014) by Dante F — 08 Apr 2018

Andrey Zvyagintsev's Leviathan encapsulates the melancholy of Russia in the evocatively beautiful and lugubrious style which marks its most profound works. Synchronously paralleling the Story of Job and the corruption of Putin's Russia, the 72nd Golden Globes's Best Foreign Film achieves satirization without detracting from its artistry, drollery without degrading its sense of authenticity, and not insignificant predictability, for those aware of Job's trials or the Aristotelean definition of tragedy, without failing to commandeer the viewers's attention for but a moment.

The conclusion is so poignant as to assail your emotional capacity with the lethality of a Siberian pit viper, injecting you with pure pensiveness regarding the injustice of this world, but more than anything, how this cosmic indifference can be so beautiful.

Zvyagintsev has made his evocation of depression more desirable than the most intense rapture of any other director; it's as if he's performing Tchaikovsky on the strings of your heart. If you are seeking a allegorical drama with the depth of feeling that is so sorely lacking from the world of film, oversaturated with saccharine and formulaic features, Leviathan beckons, inviting you to purge the banality of your day, week, or year with cleansing sorrow.