OFFICIAL SELECTION – IN COMPETITION
The two men had previously crossed paths several times but never spoken. Their meeting had only just happened. It took a book for Kirill Serebrennikov to finally start a dialogue with Eduard Veniaminovich Limonov (1943-2020), aka Eduard Limonov. The result of this exchange is Limonov: The Ballad, the Russian filmmaker's latest feature film, in competition for the Palme d'Or, just like his previous film two years ago, Tchaikovsky's Wife (2022), loosely based on the life of the composer's wife.
In contrast, Limonov: The Ballad claims to be faithful to the novel it's adapted from, Emmanuel Carrère's Limonov, which received the Prix Renaudot and high praise from critics and readers alike. Although the writer wasn't involved in screenplay's creation – which was co-written by Serebrennikov, Pawel Pawlikowski and Ben Hopkins – he does make an appearance in the film in a short scene where, playing himself, he is sternly rebuffed by Limonov. A hero in his own book. A hero, in truth.
The Russian writer, whose life feels like that of the hero of a novel, has every right to claim to be one. He was at turns a poet, mercenary, homeless man, domestic servant, revolutionary thug mingling with the bourgeoisie as a bohemian, adventurer without morals or limits, contributor to Communist and far-right newspapers, citizen revolted by power as much as he was attracted by it, castigating Russia, going into exile before returning with the dream of a comeback from the Soviet Union, and then founding the National Bolshevik Party in the mid-1990s.
Limonov's life and complex personality are rich enough to make several films and novels. Unfortunately, Limonov: The Ballad tends to oversimplify it, ignoring certain parts of the writer's story in favor of less fascinating aspects. Above all, it skirts around his most embarrassing stances.
After a short sequence showing Limonov (Ben Whishaw) in Kharkiv, Ukraine, in his very early years, stifled in his too-narrow existence (emphasized by the square aspect ratio reduced even further by door frames), a first long period of exile begins. In 1977, Limonov lives in New York City, wandering the streets with a Mick Jagger swagger among the garbage, rats, harassed workers and homeless population. In the mids of "all this shit," he meets Elena (Viktoria Miroshnichenko), a beautiful model with whom he embarks on a passionate, destructive relationship in a kind of sex and alcohol-fueled descent into hell.
You have 34.69% of this article left to read. The rest is for subscribers only.