"A creeping, contemplative drama, addressing loyalty, betrayal and the concept of humanity in times of war..."

Sergei Loznitsa’s second feature In the Fog comes after 2010’s My Joy and fifteen years of documentaries, as he presents a creeping, contemplative drama, addressing loyalty, betrayal and the concept of humanity in times of war.

It’s 1942, and in German occupied territory our protagonist, Sushenya (Vladimir Svirski) is the only one in a number of saboteurs spared a hanging. Unexpectedly released by the German enemy, punishment comes instead from the offended Partisans who wrongly assume Sushenya’s mysterious release is explicable only in the conclusion of his betrayal. Sent to achieve justice, Burov (Vlad Abashin) and Voitik (Sergei Kolesov) arrive at Sushenya’s home and take him, with a shovel to dig his own grave, into the woods for his overdue execution. But when a twist of fate spares Sushenya’s life a second time, and Burov is wounded, the three men find themselves trapped together in a mutually inclusive dilemma of morality and distrust versus survival.

The grey Belarusian forest is the perfect setting for this distinctly slow moving drama. As depressing as the film’s themes, the endless forest feels like a character in itself. The backstories of the Sushenya, Burov and Voitik are beautifully conveyed in minimalistic dialogue and in three short flashback scenes. It is in these that we learn the nature of each character, and gather that each man has reached this point not necessarily through affirmative decisions but through the inevitable happenings of this time of Nazi occupation. This is particularly true for Burov who, far from being the patriot expected of a militant Partisan loyal, we gather joined the party through circumstances related only to his personal pride and stubborn nature. This is essentially what In The Fog is about, the question of adaptability and applicability of human nature in times of hardship. In unnatural times, where difficult decisions must be made, does man change his nature?

The dense, drifting fog, which eventually takes over completely, never seems far behind the camera. It’s sweeping motion is imitated in long tracking shots that allow development without breaks, in scenes that may feel unbearably slow to many audiences. Indeed, a 127-minute film with only 72 cuts may seem excessive in its use of this slow paced style. Yet this technique is both successful and essential here, as we are given the time and space needed to really watch the nuances of expression on these highly skilled actor’s performances.

With a colour palette straight out of Tarkovsky’s The Sacrifice, and couple of scenes featuring wives wearing head scarves dishing out potato stews, In The Fog feels distinctly Russian, and is much like what you would expect of a Soviet war time drama. The difference perhaps lies in the determined absence of any action, this is a battle-less war story. Even in the scene of the hanging, which opens the film, the event is revealed through sound alone. We are left staring at a farm animal and a fence, listening for the terrible creak of the straining rope. Instead, layers of tension build subtly towards a finally rewarding scene that will satisfy appreciatively patient audiences – might be best to knock back a few coffees before you step into that auditorium though.