As you frantically try to remember the difference between werewolves and vampires (with a full moon and two fangs flashing alternately on the screen as hints), a voice-over explains in detail what will happen in the next 10 minutes and why.
The millennia-long struggle between two warring factions, taking place in some basements – catacombs, with rare excursions to manor houses for receptions, is pieced together with the help of shootouts in places with the largest concentration of innocent victims and is accompanied by an enthusiastic intellectual search for what will be discussed at the end of the film. Then begins the identification of the proposed images, their distribution among command groups, the search for personal sympathies, the identification of dramatic conflicts, and, finally, the prediction of a not-so-vague ending. The author’s text relentlessly accompanies the viewer’s thought, lest something be left out.
Since you see all this with your own eyes, you have no moral right to say that this does not happen. All that remains is to figure out how serious it is. It is clear that it is more convenient to shoot with two guns, flying out from around the corner, and that love rules the world. There are also no questions about the fact that DNA codes are intricately intertwined in the test tubes of professionals, with one single goal – to conquer dominance. Obviously, when there are practically no potential immortals on the planet, they must be preserved and lured to their side by any known methods. Only the lazy will ask one question: “why?”. We rely on folklore. Known plots flash through the head under the fierce grimaces of the resisters, and everything slowly falls into place. Charismatics lie under the stone and are ready to wake up at any moment. You can’t trust anyone, and little Celine is forced to figure out for herself who to love (the female intuition of the strongest will not let you be deceived) and, accordingly, protect. Wisdom is in books, answers are through experience. Risk is a noble cause, and the strongest survives.
Having overcome everything, the heroes remain alive. It is not yet clear how their future fate will develop (they will figure it out in the sequel), and we involuntarily witness Griffith’s birth of a nation. Only strangely unattractive. Since the film is uniquely asexual and completely does not allow you to admire at least male stubble in a successful angle, at least a coquettish leg, it is not possible to empathize with this breed in a natural way.
The acting, rooted in the tradition of Mikhail Chekhov and actively using the techniques of the cinema of the 20s, makes you sympathize with the director’s skill, and the successfully found reprises, reflecting the meaning with a couple of words, do not cause regret that the original voices failed during dubbing. The absence of any artistic, semantic or ethical solution causes bewilderment. Poses and grimaces periodically amuse, if it were not so sad at the thought that the director’s intention was never solved.
However, the film crew, led by Mr. Wiseman, seems to have convinced that the modern world consists mainly of ghouls.