As a beautifully filmed love story set against a backdrop of Cold War military repression, Firebird, directed by Peeter Rebane, seems to want to edge into erotic thriller territory, but there isn’t quite enough sex nor nail-biting to earn the term. The physical chemistry between the two leads is visceral and charged, and some suspenseful moments keep the story arc dynamic in spite of minimal action, but a steady reliance on clichés saps much of the dramatic weight.
Set at a military base in Soviet-occupied Estonia in the late 1970s, Firebird, written by Rebane with Tom Prior and based on a memoir by Sergey Fetisov, explores the tensions of forbidden desire at a time when homosexuality was illegal under law Russia (as continues to be the case today). Prior plays Sergey, a young cadet fulfilling his military service while clearly not being cut out for the life of a soldier. He’s too dreamy and too gentle, prone to kindness instead of violence. A female cadet, Luisa (Diana Pozharskaya) harbors feelings for him, but his view of their friendship is strictly platonic; it’s clear that his attention is drawn more to his male comrades. Everything is upended with the arrival of a new fighter pilot, Roman (Oleg Zagorodnii), whose dashing handsomeness verges on the absurd. Sergey’s attraction to Roman registers as immediate and fierce, made doubly awkward by the fact that Roman is a superior officer.
Mutual intentions are communicated subtly but unambiguously through the eyes, and the two soldiers find ways to spend time together under the guise of official assignments within their roles. Even so, the chances they take seem risky to the point of recklessness, until they find themselves making out behind a berm as border guards patrol the forest just meters away. It’s never quite specified what punishment might be meted out if their secret is uncovered, but there’s a menacing Colonel (Nicholas Woodeson) who makes it clear that it won’t be pleasant. By not defining the stakes, some of the tension drains from their risk-taking. After all, times have changed in the nearly 50 years since this story unfolded, and even though Russia continues to demonize and repress homosexuality, Western audiences might not appreciate just how out-of-bounds Sergey and Roman were going, or how dearly they might have had to pay for their transgressions.
While not focusing on the dramatic stakes, Firebird doubles down on romantic clichés. When that first kiss happens, the clouds burst and soak the lovers with rain—one of many engorged metaphors that follow the pair around. Naked and grappling behind a rock in the surf, the climax of the moment hits just as a pair of MiG fighter jets whoosh overhead. There’s a bit of campy fun to be had here, as if we were watching Top Gun with the subtext turned all the way up, but the film doesn’t balance that with humor or action, preferring to stick to the more staid outlines of memoir. It’s with a trip to the ballet that Sergey really sees his future unfold. The performers in Stravinsky’s “The Firebird” enthrall him with their outlandish costumes and theatrical makeup. A life in the performing arts seems like a natural fit for someone like Sergey with his hidden dimensions, and so he pursues work as an actor when his military service expires. The years he spends in Moscow allow the lovers to continue their relationship away from the suspicions of the military even as Roman continues to ascend in the ranks.
While the actors’ chemistry is undeniable, there’s a bit of a void in the development of their attraction for one another beyond their physical beauty. Whatever genuine connection they shared, and which put them at such risk for so many years, is never explored beyond the smokescreens they put up to maintain their secrecy. Freighted glances can only convey so much. When they do converse, their affected Russian accents (Prior is British, Zagorodnii is Ukrainian) can present a bit of a barrier to understanding.
Given the time and place, there’s little chance that a story like this one could have a happy ending. The relationship gets more complicated when Roman marries Sergey’s old friend Luisa, creating a perfect triangle of unhappiness. It’s possible to imagine this ménage leading to either a mutually acceptable arrangement or to a dramatic conflagration, but world events end up preempting the possibilities. These characters could have used some real-world advice: Never get involved in a land war in Asia, and don’t leave love letters lying around. The first might have been unavoidable, but the second is another example of reckless behavior that invites disaster and defies the harsh realities of the world they were living in. The closing scene, while touching, echoes a much more powerful moment in Céline Sciamma’s 2019 film Portrait of a Lady on Fire, and it’s a comparison which leaves Firebird rather flightless.
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