Klara Naoumov - Tri, Odnako... (Trois, que...)
Tri, odnako... (released in France as Trois, que...) is Klara Naoumov’s latest effort in her search for “pure cinema.” Inspired by Warhol and Tarr, described as “more avant garde than the avant garde,” Naoumov is not only the first director to refuse to view their own work, but – going Warhol one better – the first not to be present when it was shot.
Naoumov spoke about Tri, odnako... in March 2017, following a screening at the Kaffe Kulak in Volgograd. (Naturally, Naoumov was not present at the screening, but remained at her hotel, watching Monicelli’s I soliti ignoti - she keeps the DVD on hand for just these occasions – while awaiting a text notifying her that the screening was over.)
In Naoumov’s own words:
Tri, odnako... is the culmination of my search for a pure cinematic art – that is, cinema in which the agency of the director is totally eradicated. Not only did I remove myself from the set during filming, I also eliminated the possibility that the cinematographer’s personality and preferences might interfere with the purity of the work. The film was shot automatically, in real time, by an untended camera set up beforehand by my young cinematographer, Susanna Naoumov.
For a film that was pure art, a film unencumbered by agency or context, I knew I would need a primordial story. I chose the myth of Echidna, who expelled her monstrous children from Ischia because they were interfering with her dalliance with Typhon.
I was fortunate in assembling a wonderful ensemble of actors – among them, Tsetsiliya Volkov as Agafya and Grigorii Sokolov as Vissarion – and was most fortunate in being able to cast, as Tanya, the great Natalya Matveev, referred to as “Russia’s Anna Magnani” by world leader and film buff, Vladimir Putin, when he presented Matveev with her OPP [Ed. note: Ospyeshniy Pyeryezhivshiy Perestroika (Successful Survivor of Perestroika)] pin.
I was warned by some of my reactionary and cynical friends that Natalya would do her best, and her worst, to dominate the film. Needless to say, I ignored them. After all, Natalya Matveev is a professional; I trusted her to behave in a professional manner. Besides, she had matured a good deal since the scandal surrounding Tarkovsky’s lost masterpiece, Hvost.
While I, myself, have never seen Tri, odnako..., I have been able to watch it – so to speak – in the faces of those who have seen it. From the wide range of reactions – some of which I see among you this afternoon – ranging all the way from laughter to tears, from affection to anger, I am reassured that I have, at last, been able to produce a universal work of art, a work of pure cinema.
Tri, odnako... (released in France as Trois, que...) is Klara Naoumov’s latest effort in her search for “pure cinema.” Inspired by Warhol and Tarr, described as “more avant garde than the avant garde,” Naoumov is not only the first director to refuse to view their own work, but – going Warhol one better – the first not to be present when it was shot.
Naoumov spoke about Tri, odnako... in March 2017, following a screening at the Kaffe Kulak in Volgograd. (Naturally, Naoumov was not present at the screening, but remained at her hotel, watching Monicelli’s I soliti ignoti - she keeps the DVD on hand for just these occasions – while awaiting a text notifying her that the screening was over.)
In Naoumov’s own words:
Tri, odnako... is the culmination of my search for a pure cinematic art – that is, cinema in which the agency of the director is totally eradicated. Not only did I remove myself from the set during filming, I also eliminated the possibility that the cinematographer’s personality and preferences might interfere with the purity of the work. The film was shot automatically, in real time, by an untended camera set up beforehand by my young cinematographer, Susanna Naoumov.
For a film that was pure art, a film unencumbered by agency or context, I knew I would need a primordial story. I chose the myth of Echidna, who expelled her monstrous children from Ischia because they were interfering with her dalliance with Typhon.
I was fortunate in assembling a wonderful ensemble of actors – among them, Tsetsiliya Volkov as Agafya and Grigorii Sokolov as Vissarion – and was most fortunate in being able to cast, as Tanya, the great Natalya Matveev, referred to as “Russia’s Anna Magnani” by world leader and film buff, Vladimir Putin, when he presented Matveev with her OPP [Ed. note: Ospyeshniy Pyeryezhivshiy Perestroika (Successful Survivor of Perestroika)] pin.
I was warned by some of my reactionary and cynical friends that Natalya would do her best, and her worst, to dominate the film. Needless to say, I ignored them. After all, Natalya Matveev is a professional; I trusted her to behave in a professional manner. Besides, she had matured a good deal since the scandal surrounding Tarkovsky’s lost masterpiece, Hvost.
While I, myself, have never seen Tri, odnako..., I have been able to watch it – so to speak – in the faces of those who have seen it. From the wide range of reactions – some of which I see among you this afternoon – ranging all the way from laughter to tears, from affection to anger, I am reassured that I have, at last, been able to produce a universal work of art, a work of pure cinema.
The Drapers Guild Cinémathèque was fortunate to have received, from a source who prefers to remain anonymous, the original soundtrack for Tri, odnako... It was, reluctantly, rejected as impossible to dub.