"The Heavenly Tapper" — a Documentary Declaration of Love for Karavaichuk

I don't understand why the Ministry of Culture would want to bury a film this coherent — one it paid for itself. Or why the director has to fight to get it shown anywhere at all.

It was Russian Cinema Day recently; did you see the programme? A real shame. I don't think the Rodina is obliged to run something as commercial as "Policeman from Rublyovka," well made or not. But on a day like that it's desperately important to push independent work — "The Heavenly Tapper" for instance. It's already clear it won't get distribution on its own, so let at least some small share of the audience find out about the brilliant Soviet pianist and composer Oleg Karavaichuk.

My own history with him is short. The first time I heard his music was by accident, at Lev Dodin's "Demons." Then his sudden death; sad as it is, that was the news that made me go and learn about the man. And finally I got to the film, shot by people who'd always been close to him and had methodically documented every concert and, unusually, the rehearsals.

I hadn't expected it to hit this hard — even now, going back and listening again, my eyes go. The maestro didn't like being recorded and trusted only the people nearest him with it, which may be exactly why the film feels this close and this sharp.

Maybe Sergei Lando shouldn't have put his own narration over it; it tilts the view and gets between you and a purely personal meeting with the man. But that's taste: I'm always glad to hear Dreiden's voice, speaking that warmly about someone who's gone and who stays on film for good — our own city madman, Oleg Nikolaevich Karavaichuk.