War. War never changes. Those affected by it, do. The country of Kazakhstan has long had its name cemented in film history with the genre-bending mockumentary Borat. It seems cinema from Kazakhstan hasn’t really made its way to North America, which is odd for the ninth-largest country. Sometimes it just takes one movie to put a country’s name on the map. Steppenwolf is the film that is bound to set a whole new group of eyes on a nation’s cinema.
On one unfortunate day, Tamara’s (Anna Starchenko) son goes missing in the violence-stricken town she resides in. The semi-catatonic/autistic/shellshocked Tamara stumbles across police “interrogator” Brajyuk (Birek Aitzhanov) and offers a sum of money if he helps find her missing child. Brajyuk’s antics and need for violence have little impact on Tamara as they traverse through “inciters” and high water, leaving a trail of brutalized bodies in their path. Will they succeed in their journey, or will Brajyuk’s wild antics cause their downfall?
Steppenwolf tackles the subject of anti-heroes in a very unique and original way. Brajyuk is a fascinating character written incredibly well by director Adilkhan Yerzhanov. More than a bloody adventure film, Steppenwolf tries, and succeeds, at tackling so many ideas. (Granted, I have no clue what the political landscape in Kazakhstan is and don’t know if this film falls under the social commentary of a specific place.) What I do know is that Steppenwolf is an unflinching examination of political violence. In such a violently tumultuous world, be it Kazakhstan, a migrant hotel in Rotherham, or a horde of red-hatted sore losers, Steppenwolf holds up a mirror to the world, showing us the good, the bad, and, well, the truly ugly.
The dichotomy between Tamara and Brajyuk is fascinating. Both Anna Starchenko and Birek Aitzhanov give Oscar-worthy performances, but it’s what’s underneath that makes their characters painfully enjoyable to watch. Tamara is a tired symbol of peace and hope, a beacon of light dimmed by hate and violence. It’s unclear what her true background is, and why she acts as she does, but it’s moot. We find Tamara the way she is, and we must accept that she is the way she is, presumably, because of the immense violence surrounding her. On the other hand, you have Brajyuk. An all-nonsense and no-nonsense man who only cares for revenge and chewing on cigarettes. His jovial nature is continuously undercut by his extreme acts of violence; every seemingly redemptive moment is undercut by continual pathological brutality.
Chock full of grotesquely gorgeous practical effects, Steppenwolf takes the viewer through a range of emotions, leading them to a final moment of self-reflection. Its gorgeously captured landscapes flow with the blood of their enemies as the credits roll, leaving audiences in a fugue state of fear and sadness. Films like this are a once-in-a-lifetime experience, a truly ‘of its time’ film. Steppenwolf teeters on the edge of a horror-adjacent action drama, while never resigning itself to a single subgenre. It flows as haphazardly as war does. Steppenwolf isn’t the film we deserve, but it’s the film we need, and it is far from being the feel-good movie of the summer.