Much of the shorter dialogue read in subtitles to me as almost being non-sequiturs. "You're pulling my arm out!" This being said when the visual action showed nothing of the kind? This repeated sort of response had a deadly effect on me since it caused me to remain a great distance from most of the characters. If the translation was right on the money then Is this how they speak to one another? Mamet-speak? From the visual performance of Alexandra I found a largely cold and unsympathetic person, seemingly caring only for herself and occasionally for her grandson. I also found something strange about how many of the young soldiers looked at her. On a couple of occasions, even though I instinctively knew the story wasn't going to go there, I thought some minor indiscretion was about to take place. I found A.'s wandering into a war-brutalized Chechnian town unbelievable; she would have been waylaid and robbed. All in all I found situation after situation of the interactions of the soldiers with each other as well as with her strange and hard to fathom. Is the director saying this is what war does to soldiers? Having been in service during a war, though not in a combatant role, any time a female civilian dropped into our midst away from the shooting, at a base or facility, we were solicitous to the point of high sentiment: these were our mothers, sisters, girlfriends, grandmothers. Are we to believe that the unemotional looks the young Russian soldiers were aiming at Alexandra meant they are a species so far, far removed from their young American counterparts? Strange and remote movie, this 'Alexandra'.

Aleksandra is the movie that Putin disliked and Chechen banned. It's a movie about temperamental old lady who travels from Russia to Chechen to see her grandson in military base. The movie combines greatly aging and military. Story about a woman who doesn't want to get old while the others spend their aging time killing. There isn't any set decorations used, all is authentic. The military base, ruins, soldiers and the common people. Aleksandra is a great movie from one of Russians most interesting film-maker at the moment. If you aren't scared of slow and lifelike drama. This is very easy to recommend. It is humane, it is insightful.

Alexander Sokurov has directed some of the most beautiful visual poems I've managed to see since the films of the late Andrei Tarkovsky. His 'Russian Ark' still ranks for one of the best films of post Soviet Russia. 'Alexandra' is a tale of an elderly woman who travels by train to see her grandson,who is a soldier fighting the Russian/Chechen war. Despite the potential for graphic,bloody war scenes, the film instead focuses on the sad faces of soldiers,as well as the Chechen peoples who were not involved directly in fighting the war (but still had sons or daughters who died in battle with Russian soldiers). This is the kind of screen poetry that could never be allowed to see the light of day in pre Glanost/Perestroika Russian cinema (Soviet censorship was astringent about subject matter). What I really appreciated was the film's photography (that makes every scene look arid & devoid of colour). It reminded me of Sokurov's film 'Mother & Son' at times (with the loving relationship of Grandmother & Grandson depicted on screen).

Aleksandra (2008) ****As one of the least discussed modern conflicts, it's not unsurprising that the Chechen War has rarely been covered on film, certainly not in such a profound and visceral manner as depicted in Aleksandra. Aleksander Sokurov, the visionary helmer of The Russian Ark, turns an ugly conflict into a moving and gentle experience. The aging Aleksandra is granted a trip to visit her grandson, an officer in the Russian Chechen campaign, at his station post in the heart of Chechnya. She takes the train with other soldiers, and upon arrival is driven to the base in an armoured vehicle. There she waits for her grandson to return during the night. He arrives through the night as she sleeps, and in the morning takes her on a tour of the camp: showing her the vehicles, the tents, the guns. When he is away, Aleksandra curiously explores the base on her own, talking without intimidation with the other soldiers. She gives them meat pies, and the comforts of a mother figure in a world of testosterone, blood, and fear. This film is one of sensations, of atmosphere. You feel the heat of the dry Chechen landscape (it appears to have been shot in and around Grozny). You feel the tension of hatreds engrained in the psyche of both the Russians and the Chechens. You feel the dirt and the grime of the Russian base, and its intimidating and archaic structure. It is a labyrinth of tents, wood, and barbed wire. It is a rightful character in itself. You feel the oddity of seeing an aged and soft bodied woman, looking as a saint among sinners in that craggy landscape. The entire mood of the film is oddly affecting. Despite its gentle story, it expresses an unstated sense of menace. This is a troubled land, filled with unseen terror – the undercurrents of tension are palpable. And yet, old Aleksandra shows no fear. Not in the face of the shockingly young Russian soldiers who try to disobey her to go here or there, only to end up following her commands. And not in the face of angry Chechens in the market, to where she goes off alone. Indeed, it is in that market that one of the most rewarding sections of the film takes place. Aleksandra, shunned by a young Chechen man because she is Russian, is welcomed by an older Chechen woman, much like herself. Among this woman and her friends, Aleksandra forms a bond that transcends hatred, and reaches towards nothing more than humanity and compassion. Aleksandra is more than just a war film, or even a film about war. The only shot fired in the film is by Aleksandra herself – an empty chamber in an AK-47, shown to her by her grandson. This is a film about human convictions, and inevitabilities. Why is she even here? The grandson's commanding officer asides that usually he brings girls to visit him, but this time he's oddly requested his grandmother. He knows it is inevitable that he will likely die in this war, just as she confides that her time is invariably near. But the film also makes it clear that not everything is doomed to inevitability. Hate does not have to be manifest. It is a product of unnecessary cruelty and unfairness.Sokurov takes no obvious stance on either the side of the Chechens or the Russians, and so I will not invoke any clear reference here – other than to simply point out that those with a working knowledge of the foundations for the ongoing conflict should have by now found it obvious who holds the majority of blame for this hell. This is a small story, and a concept not unfamiliar. What heightens a simple parable into grandeur, though, is execution. Sokurov is a visionary, and his eye for visceral storytelling through sound and image to create the perfect mood is a marvellous example of what the art of film-making is all about. This film has the heart, the soul, and the wisdom necessary to reach that level of grandeur. This is a great and profound film.