During the Second World War, a small group of partisan soldiers and their families venture across the cold and arid landscapes of the Soviet Union, running from German soldiers who seem to have only one intention – kill every Soviet they possibly can, especially those that align themselves with the small but violent guerrilla groups that attack the occupying forces. With their supplies running low, and several of them being on death’s door, two men are sent to brave the icy weather and perpetual danger lurking around them to get provisions for their comrades. Rybak (Vladimir Gostyukhin) and Sotnikov (Boris Plotnikov) battle both the forces of nature and the forces of war to find help but are very soon captured when the latter is injured and they try and seek asylum with a young mother of three (Lyudmila Polyakova). Now at the mercy of the Germans, and their Soviet agent, Portnov (Anatoli Solonitsyn), our protagonists and their fellow captives they meet along the way have to fight for their lives in a very different way, by convincing the enemy to spare them and allow them to return to their lives. It becomes a question of “us or them”, and proof that in the game of war, there is no such thing as a victor. The two men undergo inconceivable difficulties and find themselves learning more about their inherent desire to endure than they ever knew.

Larisa Shepitko made something utterly extraordinary with The Ascent (Russian: Восхождение or Voskhozhdeniye), a beautiful but harrowing war story set in the arid landscapes of the Soviet Union during the most deadly war of modern times. It is a film that provokes philosophical questions more than it portrays warfare, with the only real conflict occurring towards the beginning of the film. Set in Belarus, it is a story about strength and survival in a trying time, and a powerful film about the limitless resilience of the human spirit, and the dark recesses of the soul that are evoked in times of immense challenge, such as in the instance of becoming a prisoner of war and forced into submission by the enemy. This was, unfortunately, the last film Shepitko made in her lifetime before her tragic passing soon after the release, and taken alongside her previous work, The Ascent is an extraordinary film about Russian history and the trials and tribulations faced by those in times of military conflict. This is not a film that proposes a story of glory and triumph, but a disconcerting, complex tale of endurance, which makes this film an unsettling but truly rewarding experience, the likes of which are rarely made with such brutal honesty and explicit dedication to portraying the harsh reality of war.

The Ascent is focused on two men and follows them throughout their journey. Vladimir Gostyukhin and Boris Plotnikov make their film debut as the two soldiers. They are both astonishing – the sheer physicality of what they did here was matched only by their pursuit of realism, which seems to have been the result of perfect synchronicity with their director, who was also in search of the intimate truth beneath the excessive tragedy of war. While being aligned with each other, and certain supportive as they are chasing the same dangerous ambitions, the film frames these two men as being quite different. Gostyukhin has, on the surface, the more complex role of the two, playing a man who just wants to survive, whether it be through shrewd methods of bargaining, or through acts of immense bravery, he just wants to return home. Plotnikov’s character is far more quiet and introspective and seems to dwell in the realm of the spiritual, finding a place within his soul that comforts him in this very difficult time, especially considering he has been severely wounded and waits patiently to meet his fate, whatever it may be. This film could certainly not have been an easy experience for these actors, with the brute nature of the story requiring them to give mostly physical performances that saw them embrace nature with a fervent rigour that allowed them to so convincingly play these desperate heroes. However, the external requirements of these roles can’t compare with the inner qualities required – these are two individuals aligned under one cause who have to find their way out of a grim situation. It isn’t enough to just give a performance, and these men delivered truly compelling performances that were clearly as excruciating to portray as they were to witness.

Shepitko realizes her vision of the war through some of the most visceral filmmaking techniques ever committed to film, and it helps convey the deeply intense themes flowing throughout. The Ascent is primarily a film about the beauty of agony, and the stark black-and-white cinematography lends the film an undeniable tone that evokes a cold and sterile atmosphere, which reflect the arid story and the historical background to these events. The use of long-shots in addition to the monochrome photography allows Shepitko to meditate on the bleak landscape, creating the sense of ill-ease and discomfort and forcing the audience even deeper into the desolate, war-torn countryside. This film is a hypnotic and often unconventionally mesmerizing view of life during wartime, and the major theme conveyed by the director is that war is as harsh and unforgiving as the Soviet winter, claiming several victims through fatal exposure, normally preying on those that cannot help themselves. This is all portrayed in the gorgeous but unsettling visual poetry crafted by the director, who astounds the audience not only with her narrative prowess in telling this story but also in the way she executes the themes.

Nearly every bit of criticism written about this film point to the fact that Shepitko was married to Elem Klimov, whose film Come and See was a similarly cold and harrowing tale of war. The Ascent is often compared favourably to it, with the two films forming a duology that shows the reality of war, and how there is a complete lack of heroes or villains during times of conflict. With this film, we are witness to a heartbreaking but compassionate story of survival and strength that may focus on archaic ideas of belief and spirituality (the final act of this film is mainly a parable, whereby one of the protagonists takes on a Christ-like persona with his reaction to his impending fate, perhaps giving the film its title), but it uses faith in a way that is transcendent and powerful, rather than being heavy-handed. Even a villager calling one of the main characters “Judas” doesn’t feel forced, but rather deeply impactful. Where this film is most powerful is in its underlying message of being focused on representing the boundless humanity that can be found in the times of the greatest inhumanities, and how the fog of war can create the bilateral idea of good and evil, when the truth is far more ambigious, whereby everyone is capable of just as much good as evil, and the true battles are won not through military victory, but through the empathetic understanding of your comrades, regardless of which side of the conflict they are on. The Ascent is certainly far from a pleasant film, but there is a deep humanity pulsating through it.

This is a film that may be classified as a war film, on the virtue of the social context it depicts, but this is a broad story of resonant themes that encompass ideas that remain relevant to this day. The Ascent is a story about survival more than anything else, tracing two men as they slowly deteriorate, physically and mentally, as a result of the unforgiving nature of their position. It also focuses on the process by which we have to come to terms with our fates, and understand that sometimes salvation isn’t always feasible, at least not in the way we’d expect. Our two protagonists embark on a single journey, but on two very different metaphysical paths – Rybak is firmly grounded and is searching for a way out. Sotnikov has his mind elsewhere, looking at his situation from a more philosophical perspective. The characters begin as inseparable and dependent on one another, but later Rybak supposedly betrays his friend. The question is provoked – was it out of selfish personal gain, or a necessity to ensure his own survival? Can the individual find themselves superseding their political and patriotic allegiance in the face of certain danger in favour of their own survival? This is not a film merely about characters bracing the natural elements, but also the more ethereal concepts that aren’t always represented in times of conflict but are certainly there, lingering with everyone involved with the hardships, whether perpetrator or victim.

The Ascent is a profoundly moving film about the soul being one’s solace and comfort in someone instances, and an individual’s most ardent enemy in others. It asks numerous questions that are unbelievably difficult to answer: Is betrayal acceptable if it aids in one’s survival and by extent the survival of their family? How does one go on living with a conscience that has been indelibly tarnished? At what cost does keeping yourself alive come, and what is the point of physically surviving if what you suffer is a moralistic death of the soul, which can be much worse. Throughout this film, the two protagonists are shown to be wounded, but in different ways. Sotnikov is physically wounded and suffers corporeal despair. Rybak is spiritually wounded, his faith becoming fleeting and his soul being crushed by his own quandaries, which envelop him and every bit of hope he has. Neither of these characters is good or bad – this film is far too complex to paint its characters as one or the other (even Anatoli Solonitsyn’s merciless Portnov is portrayed to be far more layered than simply being a one-dimensional antagonist) – but rather products of their circumstances. It is in this beautiful but heartwrenching view of the human condition that allows this film to soar, and it makes some meaningful but agonizing statements on our reactions to times of trouble.

The gorgeous images of The Ascent are imprinted permanently into the mind of every viewer who endeavours to undertake the spiritually herculean task of watching this film, and the themes are deeply embedded into our memory as we recall the countless moments of unrelenting beauty and heartbreaking honesty about the conditions of war. This is a film that will leave one utterly exasperated with despair and moved to nothing short of intense weeping and emotional distress. This is a shattering experience, but an extraordinarily beautiful one at the same time, and it finds the beauty in agony, which is an exceptionally difficult feat to accomplish. It is a very difficult film to forget, with Shepitko venturing into the core of the human condition and taking firm hold of the challenges of the spirit, exploring how we surmount challenges and find the inner peace to face external strife. It is powerful cinema, and certainly nothing short of a harrowing piece, but when it comes to great art that conveys a message clearly, there are few that do it better than The Ascent, a truly exceptional piece of filmmaking, and an even more profound historical artefact about the cold cruelty of conflict, and the strength of the human spirit when confronted with war, and armed with nothing but faith – but in what is the question.