The Venice Critics' Week jury has awarded its top prize to "Before the War," the 1983 romance directed by Borys Savchenko, capping a retrospective competition that has drawn renewed attention to a filmmaker whose work has long circulated among devoted cinephiles without ever receiving a major international platform. The Best Film honor, announced at the close of the section's proceedings, places Savchenko's sweeping love story at the center of this year's conversation on the Lido, where critics have spent the past several days revisiting a title that first reached audiences more than four decades ago.
"Before the War" runs 129 minutes and follows Anatoliy Trifonov, a soldier returning to civilian life after completing his army service. His homecoming takes an unexpected turn when he meets Raya, the niece of a local chairman, and the two begin a romance that the film traces with what jurors described as patience and emotional precision. The story does not settle into conventional romantic rhythms; instead, as the picture's own logline puts it, life takes its own course, and the lovers find their plans reshaped by forces larger than either of them.
A Post-Service Homecoming at the Center of the Story
The narrative hinges on the distance between the future Anatoliy imagines and the one that unfolds. Andrei Yaroslavtsev plays the returning serviceman, while Dariya Mikhaylova portrays Raya Kolotovkina, the chairman's niece whose feelings for Anatoliy set the drama in motion. Around them, Savchenko assembles a deep bench of supporting players: Lyudmila Shevel as Granya, Irina Zhalybina as Valentina Kapa, Olga Anokhina as Zhutikova, Yuri Grebenshchikov as Pyotr Artemyevich Kolotovkin, Vasyl Petrenko as Lyonka Murzin, and Eleonora Shashkova as Kolotovkin's Wife.
That ensemble approach matters to the film's texture. Savchenko, working in Russian, treats the central courtship not as an isolated idyll but as one strand within a densely populated community, and the supporting cast carries much of the social detail that gives the romance its weight. Critics at Venice have pointed to the film's willingness to let everyday life intrude on grand emotion - a quality that has made the retrospective feel less like an exercise in nostalgia and more like a discovery.
Industry Context and the Road to Venice
The film's appearance in the Critics' Week lineup is notable given its origins in the Hollywood industry and its original release date of March 16, 1983. For decades, "Before the War" has remained largely absent from the festival circuit, and its selection here represents a deliberate act of reclamation by programmers interested in rescuing overlooked mid-century studio romances from obscurity. The Best Film prize effectively ratifies that curatorial bet.
Its current TMDb rating sits at 0 out of 10, a figure that reflects not a critical verdict but the near-total absence of aggregated audience data for the title - precisely the kind of blank slate that makes a festival rediscovery meaningful. In Venice, at least, the film now has a substantial body of critical response attached to its name for the first time in its long life.
What the Win Means for Savchenko's Reputation
A top prize from Critics' Week rarely translates directly into commercial returns, but it does reshape reputations. For Savchenko, the award arrives decades after the film's initial release and signals that his patient, character-driven approach to romantic storytelling retains the power to move contemporary viewers. The jury's decision also ensures that "Before the War" will travel to additional festivals and repertory houses in the coming months, where the 129-minute runtime will no longer be an obstacle but a draw.
Whether the Venice recognition sparks a broader reassessment of Savchenko's body of work remains to be seen. What is clear, on the closing day of the section, is that a romance first screened in 1983 has found a new audience - and a major award - on the Lido. For a film whose central concern is the unpredictable path life takes, that late arrival carries its own quiet irony.
Source: Hollywood Reporter
