after its end, the only strange remains the source of his seduction. sure, it is a Mikhalkov film, the meeting between Mastroianni and Smoktunovsky is a happy event, the favorite of Fellini does an admirable job, the old text of Chekov has new nuances but each new explanation is far to be enough. the secret could be the strange status of story. it seems be well known. it could be a story about yourself. the emotion becomes profound scene by scene. the feelings about poor lead hero are ambiguous more and more. the virtue of film - it presents not only a touching story but an expected one. a film about life, errors, hopes and regrets.confession of an Italian full of authentic Russian states of soul. and that is the key - except Mastroianni, nobody can act his character. except Mikhalkov, nobody can give the air of familiarity to a strange story like that. a seductive film. but the roots of its seduction are so profound presented in its viewer experiences....

There's no really much you can say and analyze about this movie. It's not a movie by itself, it's a piece of art lost in the ocean of mundane cinema of the 20-th century. It's like the great literature, the great paintings of history, impregnated with a mystical and hard to define quality in it's texture. For me this is not simply a "movie", i say it again. Like Nostalghia or Andrei Rubliov of Tarkovsky , here the poetics transcends what we usually call cinema, or a film, because it gets a life on it's own, and becomes independent to critical observation. It's like a tiger in the Siberian forest, that you have to simply admire. A tiger is beautiful because it's a tiger, Oci Ciornie it's beautiful because it is Oci Ciornie. Something divine happened to Mihalkov and to the cast when thy made this piece of art. It was the greatest shame and scandal when the jury at Cannes awarded "Sous le Ciel de Satan" the Palme D'or, but who cares...Time is for the art what is for the wine. The good one gets better, the cheap one gets sour and becomes vinegar.

There are many wondrous qualities to this movie, especially the performance of Marcello Mastroianni. I only want to mention one scene, my favorite. It occurs when Romano (Mastroianni) arrives by train in the Russian village of Sisoev where he is to set up a glass factory. Upon de-training all he sees is a peasant woman with a cow. Suddenly, on the other side of the tracks a band plays. Romano walks across the welcome-carpet to a crowd of townspeople giving him a raucous reception. Actually folks here want the factory for themselves . The Italian is offered Russian bread to sample. Young girls bear doves and present the man with wreaths. The mayor recites a poem and gives a welcome speech. A medal is bestowed. Kisses galore are planted. Singers and balalaika players appear. Caviar and lethal vodka is thrust upon the man, who is barely able to cope with its potency. It's a distillation (pun intended) of Russian-ness which overwhelms the guest as he is conducted by carriage to his hotel and carried in, tired and soused, later muttering "Sabatchka," the name of the little dog belonging to Anna, the Russian girl that has aroused his passion. Great, great!

An Italian who cannot afford to take anything seriously (as by now he is little more than an ornament in the life of his countess wife) meets a young, married Russian woman at a spa, where she is alone (and living on short funds). Not meaning to, he causes her to fall in love with him (rather than simply to bed him, as would be the usage at the spa). He realizes this when she returns to Russia and her husband. He then sets out on the one serious undertaking of his life, meeting her again in Russia. For her part, she has realized that he could only be what he is, and in any case she lives as a correct married lady. So the enterprise leads to nothing -- except that the Italian loses the taste for standing for his wife's husband, and winds up, appropriately, as a waiter on a ferry. Extremely memorable.