GOLUBINYJ SWONAR

This lingering film-poem about a doomed wife, Elia, asserts the concreteness of memory in detail and in rhythm - an evocative leaky roof, roasting potatoes, slatted sunlight through a dove pen. The film's portrayal of her sudden, terrible loss occurs only after suffusing the screen with shots of her sylphlike delicacy, freckled and waxy skin, and beautiful quietude. The days tick slowly through her fatal pregnancy, and a good deal is said with a few shots of the husband, Timur, waiting, excruciated, hearing her crying through a fraying wall and filthy window. (Lindsay Crouse)