Shackling culture: uncertain times ahead for Moscow’s Museum of Cinema

The recent mass resignation of the staff of Moscow’s Museum of Cinema sent shockwaves across the international film community. In a damning open letter, the museum staff slammed the institution’s new director, Larisa Solonitsyna, who was appointed by the Ministry of Culture in July this year to replace Naum Kleiman, the museum’s longtime director and eminent film critic. Just days later, most of the team (excluding Kleiman) announced that they were to return to work in a surprising u-turn.

The staff’s decision to rescind its resignation, which came after pleas from Kleiman, was purely “for the sake of the organisation”, according to a statement from the team. Having accused Solonitsyna of “incompetence, an authoritarian style of leadership [and] lack of transparency over decisions”, they rationalised their return in terms of loyalty to the institution.

“[Our resignation] was not blackmail, it was a gesture of despair from those who have given their best years to the museum and suddenly felt that their work was crumbling before their eyes,” their statement reads. “Naum Ikhilyevich persuaded us to stay for the sake of the museum… Our return does not mean that we have changed our attitude towards the new director.”

“They want to castrate culture. I think they want culture to be safe and not dangerous. At the ministry they understand that culture might be a mighty sword for oppositional thinking”

This is not the first time the Museum of Cinema has run into trouble; in 2005, the museum was evicted from its premises following the decision to sell those premises by head of the Union of Cinematographers of Russia, Nikita Mikhalkov. While the resignation u-turn has, at least temporarily, safeguarded the institution from collapse, the controversy has stoked fears that an official campaign to control Russia’s cultural institutions is being implemented by the Ministry of Culture.

Talking to The Calvert Journal, a Russian journalist who wished to remain anonymous attributed Solonitsyna’s appointment to the ministry’s desire to have someone “on the inside”.

“A year ago, the Minister of Culture Vladimir Medinsky wanted a new person to head the institution,” the journalist said. “I think [people at the Ministry of Culture] are delusional — they think Kleiman and others are some kind of opposition figures. They want their own people there. It’s a kind of nepotism. They want to appoint someone who they can trust and rule, that’s why they chose Larisa (former editor-in-chief of the newspaper of the Union of Cinematographers). Medinsky wants management to act according to the ministry’s wishes.”

Since the beginning of the Ukraine crisis, the culture ministry has been promoting patriotism, especially in the film industry. The ministry has leveraged its control of the state budget for film, increasingly allocating funds to films which fall in line with its political agenda.

Still from Leviathan, dir. Andrey Zvyagintsev (2014)

Referring to cultural projects in Russia, Medinsky said earlier this year: “Let all the flowers grow, but we will only water the ones we like.” This push to create a culture consistent with the party line has angered many cultural figures in Russia. The acclaimed film director Andrey Zvyagintsev responded: “After these words he should have been fired, because this is a direct violation of the constitution, a direct violation of human expression. You cannot impose rules on art.”

Alexey Artamonov, PR manager at the Museum of Cinema, told The Calvert Journal that the Ministry of Culture’s intervention in the Museum of Cinema is part of a greater campaign to take full control of all cultural institutions.

“Under the guise of the neoliberal ‘optimisation’ of cultural institutions — museums, research institutes, etc — the Ministry of Culture is getting rid of any remaining pockets of free thinking and cultural autonomy from the dominant ideology,” Artamonov said. “Under the pretence of streamlining the museum’s activities, Solonitsyna has carried out a campaign to get rid of undesirables, including the museum’s founder and permanent director Naum Kleiman.” Along with Kleiman, Artamonov has not returned to work.

However, an open letter written by actress Tilda Swinton, director Mark Cousins and Cannes Film Festival director Thierry Fremaux to Prime Minister Dmitry Medvedev in support of the museum staff has given hope to some that positive change could be on the cards. In the letter, the signatories pledge their support for Kleiman and the team, urging Medvedev to “respect their knowledge and integrity”.

“Perhaps a letter signed by the most established cinematographers and festival directors can influence the president and force him to intervene in this situation. We hope so,” said Artamonov.

“Under the pretence of streamlining the museum’s activities, Solonitsyna has carried out a campaign to get rid of undesirables, including the museum’s founder and permanent director Naum Kleiman”

Alongside an attempt to “officialise” Russian culture, other cultural institutions have also suffered. One of Russia’s best known independent theatres, teatr.doc, is facing eviction after its management received an eviction notice from Moscow’s fire department accusing the institution of breaking health and safety regulations. With the theatre’s reputation for staging controversial repertoire and political satire, the eviction notice has been slammed as politically motivated.

The anonymous journalist said: “They want to castrate culture. I think they want culture to be safe and not dangerous. At the ministry they understand that culture might be a mighty sword for oppositional thinking.”

While the situation at the Museum of Cinema has stabilised for now, the culture ministry’s attempt to bring it under control is another development in the campaign to create a single, official Russian culture. Until now, even in a landscape inhospitable to those opposing the official political line, some directors have managed to receive state funding, Zvyagintsev’s latest film Leviathan being a notable example. Nevertheless, with the government’s grip on culture tightening, Zvyagintsev’s biting critique of corruption in his film may be the last example of genuine creative expression in Russian cinema for the foreseeable future.