A modern man steps into a palimpsest of centuries in Valeriy Rubinchik’s The Savage Hunt of King Stakh. That man is Andrey Beloretskiy (Boris Plotnikov), an ethnographer visiting the fictional Marsh Firs estate in Belarus. At first, it seems like good timing, walking into the party honoring the estate’s beautiful heiress, Nadezhda Janowska (Elena Dimitrova). She, sadly, receives from one of her guests, Ales Vorona (Boris Khmelnitsky) a cruel gift – a centuries old painting. The painting shows the likeness of King Stahk, who received a violent death from one of Nadezhda’s ancestors.

The Savage Hunt of King Stakh shows the effect of the titular noble’s story on Beloretskiy. While reading books in the estate’s library, he sees shadows on the ceiling. Marsh Firs’ manager Gatsevich (Albert Filozov) tells him that a man with education in 1900 shouldn’t believe in ghosts, but what if they’re real? A film in two parts, it shows Beloretskiy’s relationship to the estate during his two visits. He returns despite everyone’s advice, despite other characters warning him about him, a man losing his logic because of the estate.

In time, Beloretskiy sees that estate in slow but sure ruin. This is the kind of films where substance does exist but one must dig for it, but style it has, which it uses, in retrospect, to grab attention to those also looking attentively. Through elements like costume design, The Savage Hunt of King Stakh shows Beloretskiy clashing with others. His simple suit goes against the other characters’ lavish costumes, the estate working like a time machine. Throughout the film he doesn’t blend it with others but within the background, becoming quite ghostlike.

The Savage Hunt of King Stakh‘s cinematography is also commendable for what good films do. Closer interior scenes have slow and subtle movements, especially the anguished expressions from Beloretskiy, his options lessening. The splashes of deep dark colours work well here, and one can see old elegance’s facades. Those colours are minimal in exterior shots, like Beloretskiy walking the desolate fields of the Marsh Firs. Through the dirt and fog one can anticipate King Stakh and his hunt roaming those fields. A generational curse haunts this film but the damned can still speak.

Quasi-diegetic narration echo throughout The Savage Hunt of King Stakh, juxtaposing that with images of characters trying to live their lives. A main criticism against this film is its lack of spotlight towards Belarussian life and plight. All those criticisms are valid, but there are moments here where political commentary can be elastic. IOne can interpret characters like a neuroatypical widow (Valentina Shendrikova) as indicative of ambiguous history’s effects on regular people in real life. And hearing the word Belarus itself a few years before the Soviet Union’s collapse feels quite revolutionary.

The Savage Hunt of King Stakh is an OVID exclusive.