For a large portion of the 20th century, relations between the United States and Russia (particularly during the era of the Soviet Union) were beyond fraught, with their rivalry and determination to assert dominance as the most powerful global entity leading to a series of conflicts over the years. This was not only a fascinating time to be a journalist, but a period where artists were crafting some of their greatest and most daring work, particularly in looking at a world divided between two political systems and the powerful players at the heart of each of the feuding sides. One person who combined journalism and art was George Feifer, one of the great correspondents and writers of his generation, and someone whose dedication to recording the history of the 20th century made him a truly essential voice in his field. His greatest works usually revolve around the Soviet Union, taken from his first-hand accounts of living and working in Russia for years, where he was given a front row seat to some of the most formative moments in the Cold War, which he documented in several articles and books that he published over his working career. One of his most captivating works comes in the form of The Girl from Petrovka, a novel in which he tells a semi-autobiographical story of a journalist and writer at the tail-end of his stay in Moscow who finds his plans to leave as soon as it is feasible thrown into disarray with the arrival of Oktyabrina, a beautiful and beguiling young ballerina who is residing in the city illegally, and whose rebellious nature proves to fascinate our protagonist, who finds a kindred soul in this free-spirited young woman whose feisty attitude stands in stark contrast to the more straight-laced, low-profile journalist with whom she starts a torrid love affair that gives them both a new perspective on life. The adaptation is directed by Robert Ellis Miller, a solid journeyman director who crafts a solid, if not slightly unremarkable, retelling of this story, working closely with the original text to explore this fascinating and daring topic that may seem familiar, but has enough merit to warrant our attention, even if only momentarily, as we leap into the past.

The Girl from Petrovka proved to be something of a departure from Feifer’s usual writings, insofar as this is less of a historical text but rather a firsthand account into his experiences as a journalist within the Soviet Union, which he discusses through the lens of his romance with an eccentric young woman, who here takes the form of Oktyabrina, whose deceptive charms were apparently more than enough for the writer to construct an entire novel around his experiences with her, or at least as close of an approximation of their relationship, as told through a semi-fictional romance. As a result, we find that The Girl from Petrovka was designed to be a vehicle for whoever played the titular role, with the decision being not to cast an authentic actor from the region, but rather give the part to Goldie Hawn, who was at the peak of her popularity – her television and film work placed her at the top of the industry at the time, and she made good use of her unique acting style and doe-eyed beauty to become a highly-coveted actor sought out for several challenging roles. It’s not difficult to understand the appeal of the part – Oktyabrina is an off-the-wall, delightful bundle of chaos that would give any actor the chance to push themselves, extending their talents further than ever before. Hawn is good in the role, and despite some questionable accent work and a slightly simplistic style of developing the character, she is placed front and centre and proves to be a solid lead. However, it’s Hal Holbrook and his quiet, meditative performance that grounds the film and allows The Girl from Petrovka to have much more consistency in its perspective. The film also features an early performance from Anthony Hopkins, who has the thankless part of the young Soviet spy who is not only Holbrook’s political associate, but also the connective tissue that facilitates the relationship between the two leads, and he does so exceptionally well. The acting is solid but nothing particularly revolutionary, but in a film aiming to hit all the targets without stirring too much discourse, this seems to be the most appropriate approach.

Several merits make The Girl from Petrovka a worthwhile film, at least in terms of it being a relatively well-crafted, entertaining project. The original novel is tinged with a very gentle kind of comedy, but the adaptation tends to amplify these elements in the process of developing its central ideas into something more outwardly comedic. Designed, at least initially, as a lighthearted romp through the lives of a few people living under the draconian conventions of the Soviet Union,  the film has quite a peculiar tone, but one that does work well in terms of achieving what it wanted to say in terms of the relationship between the two main characters. Not quite the Romeo and Juliet narrative that we would expect from such a story, but rather one that is more closely aligned with the “odd couple” trope usually associated with stories based around two very different individuals forced into a position where they have to interact. The journey from mildly amused with each other’s antics to outright romance is a fascinating approach, and one that the film does represent with each sincerity to be quite compelling at the best of times, developing into a terrific love story that feels genuine enough, especially when we couple it with the good work being done by the actors. The setting does help, since it does seem to add the necessary stakes to a narrative that would have meant much less had it been told in just about any other context – and coming at the time that it did allows the film to speak to a much broader set of themes. Not all of them are entirely established, and a lot of the romance is indeed made out to be a lot more convenient than it would be in reality (many aspects of The Girl from Petrovka are extremely predictable), but taken purely as a love story between two individuals simply trying to put aside their differences to realize their feelings towards one another are not merely a passing attraction, but rather the sign of a genuine connection, which this film expends a lot of energy on exploring, which seems to be mostly the right approach for this side of the narrative, which is quite charming but mostly very minor.

However, it is in this tendency towards prioritising the romance at the heart of the film that we find that The Girl from Petrovka begins to become slightly inconsistent. The focus on the relationship between the two leads is very important, but it comes at the expense of elements that are equally as vital to the functioning of the film, such as the political undertones. Feifer was someone whose writings were always sharply adherent to the historical and political context in which they took place – this is the element that keeps his work so captivating, since we always know that there’s something purposeful behind his anecdotal portrayal of the past, especially those which are taken from his own firsthand accounts. This story doesn’t give us any real insights into life under the Soviet Union, outside of the most obvious and predictable elements that rarely are informative to anyone who has even the most passing knowledge of the past and what transpired during this era. Everything is quite ambigious, including the period in which it is set (we aren’t ever sure if it’s supposed to be taking place in the 1950s or 1970s, which makes an enormous difference in terms of the socio-cultural milieux alongside the political situation), and it simply seems to lack focus when it comes to setting the stage. It also doesn’t help that it swings in many different directions when it comes to the tone of the film – for the parts where the humour is necessary, it is terrific and has a lot of merit. It’s when it turns towards the more serious elements that it feels mostly inconsistent, particularly in the portions where it is trying to comment on the harsh reality of life in the Soviet Union, which is tied to the fact that there isn’t much context offered throughout the film. The politics in The Girl from Petrovka are not quite established, and it leads to a film that feels extremely unpolished and underdeveloped, which is unfortunate considering how much potential it had in theory, even if it doesn’t entirely erode all the merits.

The Girl from Petrovka is not a film that is well-remembered, and looking at the response it received at the time, its clear to see that the consensus was that it was something of a failure, a film that wans’t quite sure whether it wanted to be a goofy romantic comedy that used the Soviet Union as a backdrop, or a more hard-hitting, complex character study about the intersection of politics and culture when it comes to make human connections. Based on the areas in which it succeeds, it’s clear to see where it ultimately fell and what aspects warranted praise. It isn’t entirely helped by the strange, off-kilter tone that sometimes lingers over the edges of the film and makes it inconsistent at different points. Its clearly not intended to be defined by its authenticity, since certain elements are glossy and overly simplified to the point where it feels like we’re being given the most entry-level analysis of the history of Soviet-US relations, which this film arguably didn’t intend to exemplify, but which it also ultimately need to at least focus on when it comes to the elements outside the very obvious romance at the heart of the film. Holbrook, Hawn and Hopkins all do the best they can, and they add a lot of charm to the film, but it ultimately becomes a slightly futile exercise, since there’s not always anything particularly daring done in a film that could have otherwise been borderline groundbreaking. Yet, taken for what it is, The Girl from Petrovka is solid, if not slightly unremarkable. As a whole, many elements could have been massively improved, and the film ultimately just becomes mildly amusing, but otherwise doesn’t do too much to earn much attention after the fact, despite the promise it had at a cursory glance, which makes it seem like a film that would be much more major in practice.