Russian defector lives out the Dream

Press, 10 February 1986, Page 9

Russian defector lives out the Dream

Moscow on the Hudson Produced and directed by Paul Mazursky Screenplan by Mazursky and Leon Capetanos “Moscow on the Hudson” (Westend) is Paul Mazursky’s tribute, to the ethnic melting pot that is the United States. “This is a free country which welcomes anyone,” proclaims Vladimir Ivanoff (Robin Williams), the Russian circus musician whose defection forms the basis of the movie. Mazursky never lets us forget it His New York swarms with Koreans, Chinese, Germans, Indians, Cubans, you name it: an immigrant deluge all clamouring to be part of the American Dream. We first meet Vladimir in his native Moscow, where his life is unrelieved drudgery. Bundled in furs, his sullen compatriots drag their feet (in undersized shoes) through dirty snowdrifts. With blank eyes, Vladimir sees dissident Jews bundled into K.G.B. cars. An acquaintance whispers to him of confinement in a mental hospital for protesting about Afghanistan. Of course, in the land of shortages, commercial corruption is rife. Petrol is sold from the back of a truck; Vladimir queues for shoes, then resells a pair to his local K.G.B. agent. He lives with his narents.

sister and grandfather in a small, dingy apartment The high point in their lives is obtaining smooth toilet paper. Grandfather rails against the official lies on television, and the family fears arrest for every anti-authoritarian jibe. But the circus is about to tour the United States. While Vladimir is indifferent to the temptations of the West, his girlfriend makes love to him chanting a litany of designer jean labels. The K.G.B. warns the troupe of the crime-ridden streets and the dangers of being seduced by capitalist decadence — which, of course, they are ail looking forward to. So it is that, towards the end of their tour, the busload of Russians besiege the Mecca of American affluence, Bloomingdale’s department store. Being retarded consumers, some of them don’t know the difference between perfume and cleaning agents. While Vladimir looks for those jeans for his girlfriend, his friend struggles unsuccessfully to find the courage to defect. Ashamed for his friend, and suddenly seeing the opportunity, Vladimir bolts towards the store guard with the light of freedom in his eyes. The guard (Cleavant Derricks) mistakes the Russian’s intentions and directs him

! downstairs to the toilets. > “Defect,” Vladimir i stammers. “Wish to defect.” Not up here you don’t, replies the guard. Downstairs! > Thus, with the best joke in i the film, Vladimir embraces ! the West. t Williams is in top form ! here. His manic talent always ; rose above the dross of TV’s "Mort and Mindy,” and with s “The World According to I Garp” and “Moscow,” he s proves that he can temper the exuberance into sensitive acting. I His Vladimir is more i confused than committed. He s is prepared to drift with the political flow, an Everyman buffeted by life, unaware of its true potential. , But if his existence in Moscow sounds like a grab-bag of s Cold War cliches, then you > begin to see the fundamental ; problem with this film. Mazursky and his co-writer, I Leon Capetanos, are heavyi handed with their message to the point of jingoism. The winter gloom of Moscow is s miraculously transformed to i sunshine and smiles in New

York, although it would surely be the same season in both cities. The bus company which transports the circus troupe is called Liberty Lines. In Mazursky’s utopia, our hapless Slav lands on his feet almost immediately. He is adopted by the store guard’s family; fails in love with a stunning Italian (Maria Conchita Alonso); and he is shepherded by a kindly Cuban lawyer (Alejandro Rey — whom trivia freaks will remember from "The Flying Nun.”) Vladimir’s adopted black family is obviously meant to mirror his own back in Russia. But the ironies are set up...and then skipped over in the greater interest Vladimir, for instance, finds any number of jobs, but the blacks cannot because of their colour. This is not to disparage the basic theme of “Moscow on the Hudson.” America's hospitality to the homeless has been a peerless example for the rest of the world. To millions of refugees, this was indeed freedom (and they in turn have enriched life in their new land). Trouble is, will that tradition stand this sort of simplistic eulogising? Life was often very harsh initially for those immigrants. The door was open, but the roof sometimes leaked and rats ran down the hall.

To his credit, Mazursky does make an attempt to portray the seamy side of the Dream. Just when Vladimir is despondent on hearing of his grandfather’s death, he is mugged in his own apartment building. (Well, the K.G.B. was entirely sensible in its warnings about human cesspits like Times Square, after all.) In a coffee bar with his Cuban lawyer, Vladimir is bitter and disgusted. Another Russian emigre challenges him to go home to the K.G.B.’s law and order, and the scene degenerates Into a stagy recitation of the Declaration of Independence by other immigrants nearby. In the present climate of red-neck, anti-Soviet movies from Hollywood, a respected film-maker such as Mazursky could have treated us to a witty, perceptive respite. Unfortunately, the charm here Is swamped first in shallow political grandstanding, then suffocated with mawkish affection. Propaganda should be a target for comedy, not the aim. Mazursky has shown with “An Unmarried Woman” (sent up here with a truly leaden in-joke) that he can be subtle and astute. But in "Moscow on the Hudson,” everyone but Williams is having an off day. „„„ 808 IRVINE