Director: Dimitri Nasennik
Writer: Dimitri Nasennik
Cast: Natalia Shevchenko, Daria Khvostenko
The world is a can be a cruel place. It can poison us against the very relationships that help to make it tolerable. When someone embarks on a new set of ambitions, supposed ‘loved-ones’ may seek to sew seeds of doubt about that person’s talents. That comes from a place of fear, that the person may outgrow them – that the person might become less available to cater to their needs, and that they might ultimately be left behind.
This is especially prominent for women – who society conditions from birth to inherit a burden of unpaid domestic labour; to forego their own hopes and dreams, and submit themselves to a life of thanklessly oil the machinery of capitalism. The Purpose follows Kristel (Natalia Shevchenko) – a woman living in Kyiv amid the war with Russia – as she extracts herself from that cycle to chase aspirations of becoming the first woman to play lead violin in the Vienna Philharmonic’s history.
To make this dream happen, director Dimitri Nasennik and director of photography Mykhailo Sukhomlyn (whose work here, constructing every image with wonderful levels of contrast and complexity) go out of their way to meticulously depict her single-mindedness. Everywhere she goes, for example, Kristel is shown keeping track of her income and expenditures with an old-fashioned notebook and pencil – going as far as to include a single hryvnia she finds on the floor in her extensive records. Everything goes towards the dream – and no distraction can be tolerated which might compromise on that front. The only hint of modernity in her otherwise Spartan apartment is the smartphone plugged in, which she uses to take calls for bookings (though an old Nokia brick might have made for more consistent mise-en-scène, considering the number of distractions the pandora’s box of an iPhone actually opens up).
By night, Kristel practices violin. By day, she plays at funerals to make a living – and learn while she earns. She is for all intents and purposes living monastically, having cut ties to everyone threatening to hold her back. One moment sees her briefly recount leaving her family in Kyiv, who had belittled her talent, and instead insisted she take on the role of homemaker alongside her mother.
The implication is, if your ‘loved-ones’ value your dreams less than their own comfort, they aren’t really your loved-ones, and you don’t owe them anything. In many regards, this is fair enough, and Nasennik’s film seems to mostly have its heart in the right place, then. But there can be a fine line between self-determination and psychopathy – and as the film goes on, The Purpose threatens to stumble over that border.
This becomes especially pronounced in part thanks to Schevchenko’s delivery in the lead role: it is as dry and deliberate as possible at all times, and never once wavers. This seems to have been what Nasennik’s script and directions asked of her – and Shevchenko herself cannot be faulted if that is the case, she gave exactly what was expected of her. But I don’t think it will necessarily achieve the impact the director seems to hope it will.
While we are being invited to treat her as a hero, through three key exchanges, Kristel comes across as ominously removed from the human world. A terse dispute over change with the taxi driver receives the same level of investment as a request to play one extra song at a funeral; or a farewell conversation with her friend Nika, who is about to leave Ukraine for good. It’s a big ask of an audience to come away rooting for this relentless, unemotional robot, without either giving us some greater insight into why she is like this, or showing us a glimpse of self-doubt or empathy.
Having self-worth, and refusing to abandon your dreams for the convenience of those who profess to love you is not inherently a problem. But Kristel’s preternatural sense of self-confidence comes across in a way that she would calmly engage in acts of absolute cruelty, should her apparently divine rights as an individual be threatened. Eventually, every interaction becomes reminiscent of a conversation with Hannibal Lecter – “his pulse never got above 85, even when he ate her tongue.”
This is born out by what you might call the director’s ‘limited’ scope for success – which I found explained in his submission notes, after viewing the film. Suggesting “people without empathy are often more successful” – and lauding Walt Disney as a prime example, “who faced 300 rejections for Mickey Mouse” before making it big. The suggestion is that by ignoring the feelings of those around you, your talent alone could see you become the founder of a multi-billion-dollar empire. But Walt Disney didn’t succeed alone. Even if you ignore every human interaction that helped shape his ideas (some evidently for the worse), his success was also built upon the bloodthirsty exploitation of other humans. To be that guy, it’s not just a matter of not letting criticism get you down, it also involves emotionally deadening yourself enough to be able to crush other people’s dreams and still sleep at night.
Kristel’s own perception of self-worth feels like it comes dangerously close to this kind of vision. With her dream of getting to Vienna apparently hinging on money, everyone else around her is suddenly reduced to either a source of income, or a parasite to be disposed of. In the previously mentioned funeral scene, when the grieving widow asks Kristel to play the deceased’s favourite piece before she leaves, she bluntly offers to do so for an hourly rate which the family cannot afford, before promptly exiting. Even putting aside the fact that from a self-interested standpoint, ‘successful’ people do engage in philanthropy – at least as a means of building bridges with potential allies who might help them at a later date – the strange, dispassionate flouting of mainstream norms feels like we are being primed for Kristel’s comeuppance.
I can think of a few reasons why you might want to build such bridges as someone living in an active war-zone, some which don’t even involve money. Putting yourself in line for the odd bit of good will doesn’t hurt, as long as you have boundaries. At the same time, being a self-interested individual has its advantages – but push it too far, and you can end up causing friction; and leave yourself vulnerable to factors beyond your control. Such a plot arc never emerges, though – and without any bumps in the road, this starts to feel eerily flat.
Returning to the conversation between Kristel and Nika (Daria Khvostenko), the interaction does at least see Kristel yield a small burst of empathy. Nika, who is leaving Ukraine for Poland because of the Russian air raids, is an artist – and could have the opportunity to go to a decent art school after her relocation. But her mother and boyfriend both insist she “can’t draw”. Kristel suggests she might want to have a think about whether the idea that “family comes first” is really worth living your life in service of people who seem to actively dislike you. Drawing on her own experiences to relate with Nika, she suggests that especially in times such as these, we can’t always rely on deferring our dreams to a tomorrow that may never come. So, for a second, we see an actual person, somewhere in there.
Unfortunately, the scene ends hastily. Kristel hurries out of the café having taken a call – unexcused, in the middle of her friend’s sentence – offering a job paying double the going rate. The scene ends, and we are propelled forward an indeterminate amount of time, to a church in Kyiv. Kristel is preparing to play for a packed audience. It turns out that, in the wake of a family crisis, her brother could reach her – all of which is just left for us to determine from context clues. Admittedly, we understand exactly what is going on by just showing, not telling. But as skilful as that bit of storytelling might be, as Kristel triumphantly fiddles in front of her family who apparently didn’t believe in the value of her skills until now, we are left wondering as though we are being shown the least interesting aspect of this scenario.
Isn’t a mysterious client inviting you don’t know, offering twice the going rate for a funeral a little ominous; a little too good to be true? Would there have been even an inkling of panic or humanity about Kristel when she realised what was going on? Would her brother have tried to reconcile with her, or confront her before this performance? Might there be some kind of realisation that having self-worth is important, but that individuals also rely on support (at least from a chosen family) if they are to successfully chase their dreams?
All of this could have seen The Purpose reach impressive heights as a short film. As it is, it’s disappointingly one-note.
I had the benefit of watching The Purpose on a dark and rainy afternoon in Amsterdam. With the rain blasting against the window, the moments of silence and the clean finesse of the violin performances were a wonderful contrast to the chaos outside. But even as gorgeous image construction and sharp, smartly-layered sound design make this a cosy autumn watch, odd scripting decisions and a hasty final edit mean ultimately this symphony falls flat.
