Introduction: Filming the Strugatskiis

‘Far Rainbows’ was the title of the two-day workshop on Russian and Eastern European sf film at Oxford University (11–12 Apr 2013), which originally united the guest editors and contributors for this special issue of SFFTV.¹ Far Rainbow (1963) is the title of one of Arkadii and Boris Strugatskiis’ most enigmatic sf parables: although set on a distant planet (Rainbow), its story of a vast electromagnetic ‘wave’ unleashed by overambitious scientists continues to resonate today. While it is never clear whether the wave’s properties are ultimately destructive or transformative, the novella poses crucial questions. What are the limits of scientific experimentation? Of human nature? Which should take precedence, and which should be sacrificed? All of the sf novels co-written by the Strugatskii brothers (Boris was an astronomer, Arkadii, the elder, a translator from Japanese) between their debut in 1958 and Arkadii’s death in 1991 embed similarly challenging questions within engagingly plotted frameworks of interstellar adventure. Their cultural references are complex and elusive, combining subtexts as diverse as children’s nonsense rhyme, classical Japanese poetry, French Romantic prose and American twentieth-century drama (often within a single volume). Yet without any hint of tendentiousness, the Strugatskiis’ fiction succeeds in being simultaneously entertaining and cerebral. This combination made them cultural icons for generations of Russians, from Soviet-era dissident intellectuals to contemporary sf fans.

Sf has long possessed special status in Russian culture: sometimes supporting the regime’s radical transhumanist and technological goals, sometimes subverting or querying these same goals, this genre has allowed writers to express their ideas within the relative freedom of allegory and displacement (see Howell; McGuire; and Stites). Sf film has enjoyed similar popularity without an equal degree of critical attention. Even though in the West sf film has emerged as an important critical category, very few Russian sf films are even known abroad, despite noble exceptions like the stunning modernist anomaly Aelita (Protazanov USSR 1924) or Andrei Tarkovsky’s mysterious art-house classics Solaris (USSR 1972) and Stalker (USSR 1979). The 2013 Far Rainbows event strove to address this gap in critical perception of Russian and Eastern European sf film; our focus on film adaptations of the Strugatskiis’ fiction evolved logically from this starting point. The Strugatskii brothers have been an obvious choice for adaptation material for several reasons. Their cult status is one factor and so is their important role as frequent (but not exclusive) screenwriters for productions of their own fiction.² Another is the authors’ continued relevance to the present while writing about distant worlds and planets. Yet arguably the most important factor is their focus on ethical and philosophical problems, often expressed through scenarios that avoid high-tech action and futuristic design. Until very recently, the Soviet/ Russian film industry could not afford plausible special effects, and much of the Strugatskiis’ fiction conveniently provided filmmakers with an opportunity to do sf on the cheap.

This special issue covers most of the Strugatskiis’ known film and television adaptations, made both in and outside Russia. In commissioning these articles, we have made no attempt to provide and/or follow any single theoretical framework. Throughout its history, sf film has proved to be ‘an intriguing point of convergence’ and ‘testing ground for much of our contemporary cultural and film theory’ (Telotte 34); therefore, our contributors have, collectively, utilised a rainbow of critical approaches, from feminist and queer theory to the postmodern insights of Barthes and Eco. Contributors have been encouraged to choose any of the numerous adaptation theories available, or none, or develop some of their own. The only ground that the participants seem to have in common (apart from their respect for the Strugatskiis, of course) is their belief that neither fidelity nor infidelity to the source can guarantee a good adaptation. As a result, these articles present a wide range of original insights pertaining to the Strugatskiis’ work and, more generally, to the process of adapting sf for cinema.

In roughly chronological order, this special issue attempts to trace how the task of adapting the Strugatskiis’ often subversive texts waxed and waned in difficulty...