Raucous and vibrant, "Hipsters" (Stilyagi) is set in 1955 Moscow, where a group of pre-rock 'n' roll young people fight to wear what they want, listen to what they want, dance how they want and live the lives they want with every bit of the same rebellious passion as the music that's just around the corner.Buying their bright, colorful clothes on the black market, they must try to stay one step ahead of the drab, scissors-wielding government enforcers who look to tone them down and keep them in line.Director Valery Todorovsky keeps the film moving by balancing its more serious undercurrents with a liberating sense of fun, buoyed by musical numbers -- there are musical numbers! -- big, bold set-pieces around carnivals and jazz clubs and bopping through the streets.Fans of Baz Luhrmann's high style should delight in the film's distinctive production design and close-eyed appreciation for a fine-fabric, well-cut suit and skirt hem that hits just so.The spirited young cast includes the luminous Oksana Akinshina, best known for her title role in Lukas Moodysson's devastating "Lilya 4-Ever," who still lights up the screen like few actresses in the world.The film's joyous finale tosses aside strict narrative unity for a spirited number that nods to "Grease" in its salute to punks, hippies, hip-hoppers and virtually every other rebel youth tribe, declaring "hipster style conquers all fear."
In Moscow in 1955, hipsters--stilyagi--listen to jazz, style their hair in pompadours or bouffants, wear bright clothing, and (here's the rub) risk arrest for "kowtowing to Western ideology." Valeriy Todorovskiy's film Hipsters observes the transformation of young Anton Shagin from well-behaved Komsomol member to sax-playing, plaid-wearing embracer of this underground culture, a journey marked by exuberant musical numbers. It owes its start, of course, to love--he's determinedly pursuing Lilya 4-Ever's Oksana Akinshina (whose resemblance to Michelle Williams is striking), who he first meets, appropriately, after chasing her down when participating in a raid on a hipster party. Soon, he's tumbled for all of it: the music, the rebellion, the swagger of the group's leader (Maksim Matveev), and the promise of America.
Looking like exotic creatures compared to the rest of the population in their identical, prim gray and brown outfits, the hipsters hang out on the downtown street they call "Broadway" and party at a cocktail club. They come into periodic confrontation with Shagin's old Komsomol friends, especially the commissar (Evgeniya Brik), whose concern for her straying comrade leans toward the romantic. Being a hipster wasn't a political act in the '50s, though in the heyday of Soviet ideology, its repercussions could be almost equivalent--Shagin and his friends have to risk buying their records, outfits, and instruments on the black market, and are often dressed down on the street by passers-by who sneer "We fought Hitler for that?"
Cultural exoticism aside, Hipsters is about the delirium of being young and convinced that'll never change--the dance sequences, some of which flash glimpses of the drab daytime lives of its participants, are alive with the joy of acting out, extending into scenes in which characters leap subway turnstiles or have enthusiastic sex in the communal apartment room they're sharing with family members who try to ignore them. The film proceeds episodically, and at two hours, starts to drag in its meanderings toward adulthood and responsibility. But a grand, bittersweet final musical number places the hipsters in a tradition with punks and other coming countercultures, groups driven by a desire to not look or act like everyone else, and damn the consequences. Light as a bubble, Hipsters suggests that age may catch up with everyone, but that there will always be people fighting against the current of conformity, even if they only express it via how they wear their hair.
As the remake of Footloose fades from theatres, fans of musicals could do worse than see Hipsters, a Russian-made production that mixes classical and modern elements. What the film lacks in originality or wit, it compensates for with solid craftsmanship, a pleasing look and sound, and a great ending.Adapted by screenwriter Yuri Korotkov from his book Boogie Bones, Hipsters is set in 1955 Moscow, when Communism still had a firm grip on every way of life. Against this oppressive backdrop, a young student, Mels (Anton Shagin), yearns to break away from his Komsomol shock-troop job patrolling the streets and nightclubs, trying to control or stop various forms of Western-influenced dancing (like jazz and boogie-woogie). His group leader, Katya (Evgenia Brik), even demands the colorful, revealing clothing the rebellious youngsters wear be cut and destroyed.Mels eventually meets and falls for one of the underground hipster dancers, Polly (Oksana Akinshina), creating a major rift with Katya and his other friends. Soon, Mels leaves school and becomes a well-liked hipster in the clubs, but when Polly becomes pregnant, Mels' life changes yet again. His responsibility as a new father is tested when he is faced with some startling news.
The tension between the repressive establishment and free-spirited youths is one of the oldest of musical-comedy motifs--even Footloose is about this. The Romeo and Juliet storyline has also become routine ever since it was applied to West Side Story. What sets Hipsters apart, at least somewhat, is the intelligent way it updates and refashions its "old-school" musical sequences into the narrative. In this regard, the film is more entertaining than, say, Dancer in the Dark, Moulin Rouge or any number of modern musical homages to Hollywood's heyday. At least director (and co-writer of the "libretto") Valery Todorovsky allows the singing and dancing to coherently survive the MTV-style editing while still giving the "spontaneous" musical outbursts a satiric edge--right up through the rousing, deliberately anachronistic finale.
If Todorovsky's approach imitates anything, really, it is the actual Communist musicals of the 1950s (well documented in 1997's East Side Story) and maybe a few of the over-the-top, brightly designed nostalgia pieces of more recent times--e.g., Absolute Beginners and Hairspray--though the director knows his subject of Soviet life demands the occasional dark or tender moment (the last couple of reels are particularly heavy). Roman Vasyanov's sophisticated widescreen cinematography keeps up with the shifts in tone, even nodding toward Soviet Realism, and may be the best aspect of the production. The performances are engaging, though no one stands out as a star and much of Konstantin Meladze's original score is surprisingly forgettable.
