The name of Dovzhenko immediately conjures up grand images of conquering tractors, heroic people fighting brutish reactionaries, revolutionaries in ecstasy, solemn faces turned towards a better future, vast skies, rolling fields, boundless sunflower fields... but you will never associate the master with farce, antics or slapstick. At least until you discover the existence of "Love's Berries", an amazingly funny twenty- six minute burlesque comedy he made for the VUFU studios in 1926.
As long as you have never seen this romp, you will be excused if you think that the Soviet director and humour do not see eye to eye. But after viewing 'Love's Berries', you will have no alternative but to review your opinion.
Storywise, the plot, as is often the case in the best slapsticks, is minimal. Dovzhenko, as it happens, quite rightly follows Mack Sennett's lesson, who once told Chaplin, "We have no scenario - we get an idea, then follow the natural sequence of events until it leads up to a chase, which is the essence of our comedy." And the Soviet director does it to excellent results. Sight gag after sight gag, the viewer indeed laughs out loud - until the final twist – at the misadventures of a man who, reluctant (and that is putting it mildly) to be a father, bends over backwards to get rid of a baby his girlfriend has put in his arms. Constantly thwarted by the circumstances, he tries and tries again and one cannot but be delighted at the blind stubbornness of this new Sisyphus. That is all there is to it but who needs more sophistication in a slapstick?
A far cry from 'Arsenal', 'Earth' or 'Chtchors' to be sure, 'Love's Berries', not content not to follow the official line, has even the luxury to constantly sin against it (isn't the antihero a shamelessly bad life companion, a bad father and a bad citizen?), which naturally did not escape Pavlo Netches, the manager of the VUFU studios where Dovzhenko was learning his trade. After viewing the film, the irate superior simply told the film student: "Sachko, you should be fired from here. You have no talent for writing scripts so stop trying. I'll have a last try with you – here's a screenplay. If you manage to make a film of it – it is your chance. If you don't – I'll give you the sack!"
Dovzhenko complied, hence the conquering tractors, ecstatic revolutionaries, etc. The fact remains that this delightful little film still exists – for our biggest pleasure. Try and find that special something (which is not so hard to do as it is often combined on DVDs with the extremely well-known 'Arsenal'). You will not regret it.
As long as you have never seen this romp, you will be excused if you think that the Soviet director and humour do not see eye to eye. But after viewing 'Love's Berries', you will have no alternative but to review your opinion.
Storywise, the plot, as is often the case in the best slapsticks, is minimal. Dovzhenko, as it happens, quite rightly follows Mack Sennett's lesson, who once told Chaplin, "We have no scenario - we get an idea, then follow the natural sequence of events until it leads up to a chase, which is the essence of our comedy." And the Soviet director does it to excellent results. Sight gag after sight gag, the viewer indeed laughs out loud - until the final twist – at the misadventures of a man who, reluctant (and that is putting it mildly) to be a father, bends over backwards to get rid of a baby his girlfriend has put in his arms. Constantly thwarted by the circumstances, he tries and tries again and one cannot but be delighted at the blind stubbornness of this new Sisyphus. That is all there is to it but who needs more sophistication in a slapstick?
A far cry from 'Arsenal', 'Earth' or 'Chtchors' to be sure, 'Love's Berries', not content not to follow the official line, has even the luxury to constantly sin against it (isn't the antihero a shamelessly bad life companion, a bad father and a bad citizen?), which naturally did not escape Pavlo Netches, the manager of the VUFU studios where Dovzhenko was learning his trade. After viewing the film, the irate superior simply told the film student: "Sachko, you should be fired from here. You have no talent for writing scripts so stop trying. I'll have a last try with you – here's a screenplay. If you manage to make a film of it – it is your chance. If you don't – I'll give you the sack!"
Dovzhenko complied, hence the conquering tractors, ecstatic revolutionaries, etc. The fact remains that this delightful little film still exists – for our biggest pleasure. Try and find that special something (which is not so hard to do as it is often combined on DVDs with the extremely well-known 'Arsenal'). You will not regret it.
