Sunstroke year of writing. Bunin. Sunstroke." Main characters

Composition

Everything is beautiful in love - does it bring us

She is suffering or a balm.

For the sake of suffering true love

Call it bliss, O lover.

Remember from Vysotsky: “...love quietly climbed onto land and dissolved in the air before its time”? And not “forty forty,” but throughout one’s life a person tries to find the answer to the question: what is love? Sunstroke, languor of spirit or grace?

I reread often love stories I. Bunina. It seems to me that it was this writer who tried to unravel the most inexplicable, mysterious human feeling. I really like his story “Sunstroke,” written in 1925 in the Maritime Alps. This work, like “Ida” and “The Case of Cornet Elagin,” anticipates the collection of short stories “ Dark alleys».

“All love is great happiness, even if it is not shared” - this phrase of the writer can be used as an epigraph to all his stories about love. He talked a lot about her, beautiful, incomprehensible, mysterious. But if in his early stories Bunin wrote about tragic unrequited love, then in “Sunstroke” it is mutual. And still tragic! Incredible? How can this be? It turns out it can.

Let's turn to the story. The plot is simple. He and she meet on the ship. The meeting is accidental, warmed up by wine, the warmth of the night, and a romantic mood. The heroes, having left the ship, spend the night in a hotel, and part in the morning. That's it. As we see, following Chekhov, Bunin updates the genre of the story, simplifies the event plot, and deprives the story of external entertainment. Behind a very banal plot lies internal conflict- the hero’s conflict with himself, so Bunin does not pay special attention to events, he writes about feelings.

But it’s very difficult to look into a person’s soul, into this huge and unknown world, closed from prying eyes.

What do we know about the heroes? Almost nothing. He, the lieutenant, traveling according to his needs, at first does not take this “road adventure” seriously. She leaves home in the morning, where her husband and three-year-old daughter are waiting for her. Is the woman beautiful? Bunin does not offer us a specific portrait of the stranger, but he details it. We see her little strong hand, a strong body, hair that she fastens with pins, we hear her “simple, lovely laughter,” we feel the subtle aroma of her perfume. This creates the image of a mysterious femme fatale, as if Bunin wanted to solve the mystery feminine charm, which has such a magical effect on a man. And he succeeded. The reader is fascinated by this stranger.

He, she, the city - everything is nameless. What is this? Generalization? Or maybe this is not all that important? The important thing is that for the reader they will simply remain a Man and a Woman with a great secret of love. It is important that the city remains the City of the Sun, happy and unsolved. It is important that Bunin, being a subtle psychologist, allows us to follow the hero’s internal state step by step. The lieutenant easily and happily parted with the stranger and returned to the hotel carefree. But something happened that the lieutenant could not imagine: his funny adventure was not forgotten! What is this? Love! But how can one convey on paper in words what a person can feel? How did Bunin manage to show “all the cataclysms that shake a fragile bodily foundation to the core, when the whole world is transformed in a person’s sensations, when sensitivity to everything around is heightened to the limit”? The writer was able to convey the hero’s painful experiences. Immediately before us there is a change in the man’s mood. At first the lieutenant feels sad, his heart contracts with “tenderness.” He tries to hide his confusion behind external bravado. Then a kind of dialogue with oneself occurs. He tries to laugh, shrug, light a cigarette, drive away sad thoughts and... he can’t. He constantly finds objects that resemble a stranger: “a hairpin, a rumpled bed,” “an unfinished cup”; he smells her perfume. This is how torment and melancholy are born. Not a trace remains of lightness and carefreeness!

The system of antonyms proposed by Bunin is aimed at showing the gulf that lies between the past and the present. “The room was still full of her,” her presence was still felt, but “the room was empty,” “and she was no longer there,” “she had already left,” “she would never see her,” and “you’ll never say anything again.” The correlation of contrasting sentences that connect the past and present through memory is constantly visible. (“The feeling just experienced pleasures was still alive in him, but now the main thing was a new feeling.”) The lieutenant needed to occupy himself with something, distract himself, go somewhere, and he wanders around the city, trying to escape from the obsession, not realizing that everything was wrong with him - it still happens. “His heart is struck by too much love, too much happiness.” Fleeting love came as a shock to the lieutenant; it changed him psychologically.

Bunin’s ability to acutely perceive the world through colors, sounds, and smells is well known. And in this story he did not change himself. The lyrical mood is created by a whole mass of color and sound repetitions, but they are contrasting. So, for example, in the morning (before the woman’s departure) the splash of water, and the sound of the rope on the pier, and the sounds and smells of the market square, and the ringing church bells– everything was hot, sunny, happy. All this was perceived by the hero as musical notes, consonant with the romantic mood of the heart. At the end of the story everything is the same: the pier, the market, the bells. But in the cathedral they are already singing too loudly, the smells and screams of the merchants irritate the hero, because without her “all this would have been so stupid, absurd.” The sun, hot, fiery, but “aimless,” pursues the hero, and there is nowhere to hide from its scorching rays.

It must be said that color also plays a special role in the story. Yellow and gray dominate, sometimes almost black. There are, of course, many more variations of the same color scheme, but the main thing is still in the contrast of yellow and black. Lights and darkness. Yellow(hot sun, yellow shallows, tan, “shining distance”) symbolizes happiness, great joy. Contrasting him with black and gray tones (darkness), Bunin shows us the emptiness and loneliness of a man who is powerless to change anything. He only begins to feel the world around him more acutely, his soul is naked, but now everything is unbearable for him. The only way to escape the scorching sun is in a cool hotel room, but there it is especially impossible not to think about her.

Another technique that I. Bunin skillfully uses is the organization of space and time. I note that the space in the story is limited and closed. The heroes arrive by boat, leave again by boat (alas, not together anymore); then the hotel, from where the lieutenant goes to see off the stranger, and he returns there. The hero constantly makes the opposite movement, a kind of vicious circle is obtained. The lieutenant runs out of the room, and this is understandable: staying here without her is painful, but he returns, since only this room still contains traces of the stranger. The hero experiences pain and joy when thinking about what he has experienced.

On the one hand, the plot of the story is built simply, it follows a linear sequence of events, on the other hand, there is an inversion of memory episodes. Why is this necessary? I think that psychologically the hero seems to have remained in the past and, realizing this, does not want to part with the illusion of the presence of his beloved woman. In terms of time, the story can be divided into two parts: the night spent with the woman, and the day without her. First, the image of fleeting bliss was created - funny incident, and in the finale an image of painful bliss - a feeling of great happiness. Gradually, “the heat of the heated roofs” gives way to the reddish yellowness of the evening sun, and “yesterday and this morning were remembered as if they were ten years ago.” Of course, the lieutenant already lives in the present, he is able to realistically assess events, but the spiritual devastation and the image of a certain tragic bliss remain. A woman and a man, already living a different life, constantly remember these moments of happiness (“for many years later they remembered this minute: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire lives”). Thus, time and space outline the peculiar closed world in which the heroes find themselves. They are captive of their memories for life. Hence the successful metaphor in the title of the story: sunstroke will be perceived not only as pain and madness (it is no coincidence that the lieutenant feels ten years older), but also as a moment of happiness, a “lightning” that can illuminate a person’s entire life with its light.

In conclusion, I would like to give one more quote from the story: “The dark summer dawn was extinguished far ahead, gloomily, sleepily and multi-coloredly reflected in the river... and the lights floated and floated back, scattered in the darkness around.” This phrase is Bunin's view of love. Once he said in a conversation that there is no happiness in life, “there are only lightnings of it, - appreciate them, live by them.” Love is like lightning, it flared up and went out, like lights in the darkness, alas, left behind. Why do the heroes in Bunin's stories always break up? Perhaps the writer did not want to talk about the holiday of love turning into everyday life. Perhaps in separation and “there is high value”, only in this case love remains somewhere in the heart for the rest of your life, therefore in Bunin’s stories, no matter how strong the love, the ending is always sad. Perhaps the writer himself could not fully unravel this life secret. So what is love? Sunstroke, sleep, languor of spirit or grace?

Many of I. Bunin’s works are hymns to true love, which has everything: tenderness, passion, and the feeling of that special connection between the souls of two lovers. This feeling is also described in the story “Sunstroke,” which the writer considered one of his best works. Students meet him in 11th grade. We suggest making your preparation for the lesson easier by using the analysis of the work presented below. Analysis will also help you quickly and efficiently prepare for the lesson and the Unified State Exam.

Brief Analysis

Year of writing- 1925

History of creation- I. Bunin was inspired to write the work by the nature of the Maritime Alps. The story was created during the period when the writer was working on a series of works related to love themes.

Subject- Main topic works - true love which a person feels with both soul and body. In the final part of the work, the motive of separation from a loved one appears.

Composition- The formal organization of the story is simple, but there are certain features. The plot elements are placed in a logical sequence, but the work begins with a plot. Another feature is the framing: the story begins and ends with a picture of the sea.

Genre- Story.

Direction- Realism.

History of creation

“Sunstroke” was written by I. Bunin in 1925. It is worth noting that the year of writing coincided with the period when the writer was working on stories, dedicated to the topic love. This is one of the factors that explains the psychological depth of the work.

I. Bunin told G. Kuznetsova about the history of its creation. After the conversation, the woman wrote the following in her diary: “We talked yesterday about writing and how stories are born. At I.A. (Ivan Alekseevich) it starts with nature, some picture that flashed in the brain, often a fragment. So the sunstroke came from the idea of ​​going out on deck after dinner, from the light into the darkness of a summer night on the Volga. And the end came later"

Subject

In “Sunstroke,” the analysis of the work should begin with a description of the main problems. The story showed motive, very common both in the world and in Russian literature. However, the author managed to reveal it in an original way, delving into the psychology of the characters.

At the center of the work topic sincere, ardent love, in the context of which they develop problems relationships between people, separation of lovers, internal contradiction caused by the incompatibility of feelings and circumstances. Issues The work is based on psychologism. The system of images is unbranched, so the reader’s attention is constantly focused on two heroes - the lieutenant and the beautiful stranger.

The story begins with a description of lunch on the deck of a ship. It was under such conditions that the young people met. A spark immediately ran between them. The man suggested that the girl escape from strangers. After getting off the ship, they headed to the hotel. When the young people were left alone, the flames of passion immediately engulfed their bodies and minds.

The time at the hotel flew by. In the morning, the lieutenant and the beautiful stranger were forced to part, but this turned out to be very difficult. Young people wonder what happened to them. They assume it was sunstroke. In these considerations lies the meaning of the title of the work. Sunstroke in this context is a symbol of sudden mental shock, love overshadowing the mind.

The beloved persuades the lieutenant to take her to the deck. Here the man seems to be struck by sunstroke again, because he allows himself to kiss the stranger in front of everyone. The hero cannot recover from separation for a long time. He is tormented by the thought that his beloved most likely has a family, so they are not destined to be together. A man tries to write to his beloved, but then realizes that he does not know her address. In such a rebellious state, the hero spends another night, recent events gradually move away from him. However, they do not pass without a trace: it seems to the lieutenant that he has aged ten years.

Composition

The composition of the work is simple, but some features are worth paying attention to. Plot elements are placed in a logical sequence. However, the story begins not with exposition, but with a plot. This technique enhances the sound of the idea. The characters get to know each other, and then we learn more about them. Development of events - night at the hotel and morning conversation. The climax is the scene of the separation of the lieutenant and the stranger. The denouement - the outbreak of love is gradually forgotten, but leaves a deep mark in the soul of the hero. This conclusion provides the reader with the opportunity to draw certain conclusions.

The framing can also be considered a feature of the composition of the work: the story begins and ends with a scene on the deck.

Genre

The genre of I. Bunin’s work “Sunstroke” is a story, as evidenced by the following signs: small volume, main role plays storyline lovers, there are only two main characters. The direction of the story is realism.

Work test

Rating analysis

Average rating: 4.6. Total ratings received: 101.

After lunch, we walked out of the brightly and hotly lit dining room onto the deck and stopped at the railing. She closed her eyes, put her hand to her cheek with her palm facing outwards, laughed a simple, charming laugh - everything was charming about this little woman - and said: - I seem to be drunk... Where did you come from? Three hours ago I didn’t even know you existed. I don't even know where you sat down. In Samara? But still... Is it my head spinning or are we turning somewhere? There was darkness and lights ahead. From the darkness, a strong, soft wind beat in the face, and the lights rushed somewhere to the side: the steamer, with Volga panache, abruptly described a wide arc, running up to a small pier. The lieutenant took her hand and raised it to his lips. The hand, small and strong, smelled of tan. And my heart sank blissfully and terribly at the thought of how strong and dark she must be under that light canvas dress after a whole month of lying under the southern sun, in the hot sea ​​sand(she said she was coming from Anapa). The lieutenant muttered:- Let's go... - Where? - she asked in surprise. - On this pier.- For what? He said nothing. She again put the back of her hand to her hot cheek. - Crazy... “Let’s get off,” he repeated stupidly. - I beg you... “Oh, do as you wish,” she said, turning away. The runaway steamer hit the dimly lit dock with a soft thud, and they almost fell on top of each other. The end of the rope flew over their heads, then it rushed back, and the water boiled noisily, the gangway rattled... The lieutenant rushed to get his things. A minute later they passed the sleepy office, came out onto sand deep as deep as the hub, and silently sat down in a dusty cab. The gentle climb uphill, among rare crooked streetlights, along a road soft with dust, seemed endless. But then they got up, drove out and crackled along the pavement, there was some kind of square, public places, a tower, the warmth and smells of a night summer provincial town... The cab driver stopped near the illuminated entrance, behind the open doors of which an old wooden staircase rose steeply, old, unshaven the footman in a pink blouse and frock coat took his things with displeasure and walked forward on his trampled feet. They entered a large, but terribly stuffy room, hotly heated by the sun during the day, with white drawn curtains on the windows and two unburnt candles on the mirror - and as soon as they entered and the footman closed the door, the lieutenant so impulsively rushed to her and both of them suffocated so frantically in a kiss , that for many years later they remembered this moment: neither one nor the other had ever experienced anything like this in their entire lives. At ten o'clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with the market on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar and again everything complex and odorous that Russians smell of. county town, she, this little nameless woman who never said her name, jokingly calling herself a beautiful stranger, left. We slept little, but in the morning, coming out from behind the screen near the bed, washing and dressing in five minutes, she was as fresh as she was at seventeen. Was she embarrassed? No, very little. She was still simple, cheerful and - already reasonable. “No, no, honey,” she said in response to his request to go further together, “no, you must stay until the next ship.” If we go together, everything will be ruined. This will be very unpleasant for me. I give it to you honestly that I am not at all what you might think of me. Nothing even close to what happened has ever happened to me, and there never will be again. The eclipse definitely hit me... Or, rather, we both got something like sunstroke... And the lieutenant somehow easily agreed with her. In a light and happy spirit, he took her to the pier - just in time for the departure of the pink Airplane - kissed her on the deck in front of everyone and barely had time to jump onto the gangplank, which had already moved back. Just as easily, carefree, he returned to the hotel. However, something has changed. The room without her seemed somehow completely different than it was with her. It was still full of her - and empty. It was strange! There was still the smell of her good English cologne, her unfinished cup was still standing on the tray, but she was no longer there... And the lieutenant’s heart suddenly sank with such tenderness that the lieutenant hurried to light a cigarette and walked back and forth around the room several times. - A strange adventure! - he said out loud, laughing and feeling tears welling up in his eyes. - “I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think...” And she already left... The screen had been pulled back, the bed had not yet been made. And he felt that he simply had no strength to look at this bed now. He covered it with a screen, closed the windows so as not to hear the market talk and the creaking of wheels, lowered the white bubbling curtains, sat down on the sofa... Yes, that’s the end of this “road adventure”! She left - and now she’s already far away, probably sitting in the glass white salon or on the deck and looking at the huge river glistening in the sun, at the oncoming rafts, at the yellow shallows, at the shining distance of water and sky, at this entire immeasurable Volga expanse. .. And forgive, and forever, forever... Because where can they meet now? “I can’t,” he thought, “I can’t, out of the blue, come to this city, where her husband is, where her three-year-old girl is, in general her whole family and all her ordinary life! - And this city seemed to him some kind of special, reserved city, and the thought that she would live her lonely life in it, often, perhaps, remembering him, remembering their chance, such a fleeting meeting, and he already will never see her, this thought amazed and amazed him. No, this can't be! It would be too wild, unnatural, implausible! - And he felt such pain and such uselessness of all his later life without her, that he was overcome by horror and despair. “What the hell! - he thought, getting up, again starting to walk around the room and trying not to look at the bed behind the screen. - What’s wrong with me? And what is special about it and what actually happened? In fact, it looks like some kind of sunstroke! And most importantly, how can I now spend the whole day in this outback without her?” He still remembered all of her, with all her slightest features, he remembered the smell of her tan and canvas dress, her strong body, the lively, simple and cheerful sound of her voice... The feeling of the pleasures he had just experienced with all her feminine charm was still unusually alive in him , but now the main thing was still this second, completely new feeling - that strange, incomprehensible feeling that was not there at all while they were together, which he could not even imagine in himself, starting yesterday this, as he thought, was only funny an acquaintance that could no longer be told to her now! “And most importantly,” he thought, “you’ll never be able to tell!” And what to do, how to live this endless day, with these memories, with this insoluble torment, in this godforsaken town above the very shining Volga along which this pink steamer carried her away! I needed to save myself, do something, distract myself, go somewhere. He resolutely put on his cap, took the stack, quickly walked, jingling his spurs, along the empty corridor, ran down the steep stairs to the entrance... Yes, but where to go? At the entrance stood a cab driver, young, in a smart suit, and calmly smoking a cigarette. The lieutenant looked at him in confusion and amazement: how can you sit so calmly on the box, smoke and generally be simple, careless, indifferent? “I’m probably the only one so terribly unhappy in this whole city,” he thought, heading towards the bazaar. The market was already leaving. For some reason, he walked through the fresh manure among the carts, among the carts with cucumbers, among the new bowls and pots, and the women sitting on the ground vied with each other to call him, took the pots in their hands and knocked, rang them with their fingers, showing their good quality, men they stunned him, shouted to him: “Here are the first grade cucumbers, your honor!” It was all so stupid and absurd that he fled from the market. He went to the cathedral, where they were singing loudly, cheerfully and decisively, with the consciousness of a fulfilled duty, then he walked for a long time, circling around the small, hot and neglected garden on the cliff of a mountain, above the boundless light steel expanse of the river... Shoulder straps and buttons of his jacket it was so hot that it was impossible to touch them. The inside of his cap was wet from sweat, his face was burning... Returning to the hotel, he happily entered the large and empty cool dining room on the ground floor, took off his cap with pleasure and sat down at a table near open window, which was filled with heat, but still had a breath of air, I ordered botvinya with ice... Everything was good, there was immense happiness, great joy in everything; even in this heat and in all the smells of the market, in this whole unfamiliar town and in this old county hotel there was it, this joy, and at the same time the heart was simply torn to pieces. He drank several glasses of vodka, snacked on lightly salted cucumbers with dill and felt that he, without a second thought, would die tomorrow, if by some miracle he could return her, spend another, this day, with her - spend only then, only then, to tell her and prove it somehow, to convince her how painfully and enthusiastically he loves her... Why prove it? Why convince? He didn’t know why, but it was more necessary than life. - My nerves are completely gone! - he said, pouring his fifth glass of vodka. He pushed his shoe away from him, asked for black coffee and began to smoke and think intensely: what should he do now, how to get rid of this sudden, unexpected love? But getting rid of it—he felt it too vividly—was impossible. And he suddenly quickly stood up again, took his cap and riding stack and, asking where the post office was, hurriedly went there with the phrase of the telegram already prepared in his head: “From now on, my whole life is forever, until the grave, yours, in your power.” But, having reached the old thick-walled house where there was a post office and telegraph, he stopped in horror: he knew the city where she lived, he knew that she had a husband and a three-year-old daughter, but he did not know her last name or first name! He asked her about this several times yesterday at dinner and at the hotel, and each time she laughed and said: - Why do you need to know who I am, what my name is? On the corner, near the post office, there was a photographic showcase. He looked for a long time at a large portrait of some military man in thick epaulets, with bulging eyes, a low forehead, with amazingly magnificent sideburns and a wide chest, completely decorated with orders... How wild, scary is everything everyday, ordinary, when the heart is struck, - yes, he was amazed, he now understood it, by this terrible “sunstroke,” by too much love, by too much happiness! He looked at the newlywed couple - a young man in a long frock coat and white tie, with a crew cut, stretched out in front on the arm of a girl in a wedding gauze - he turned his eyes to the portrait of some pretty and perky young lady in a student cap at an askew... Then, languishing with painful envy of all these people unknown to him, who were not suffering, he began to look intently along the street. - Where to go? What to do? The street was completely empty. The houses were all the same, white, two-story, merchant houses, with large gardens, and it seemed that there was not a soul in them; white thick dust lay on the pavement; and all this was blinding, everything was flooded with hot, fiery and joyful, but here it seemed like an aimless sun. In the distance the street rose, hunched over and rested on a cloudless, grayish sky with a reflection. There was something southern about it, reminiscent of Sevastopol, Kerch... Anapa. This was especially unbearable. And the lieutenant, with his head bowed, squinting from the light, intently looking at his feet, staggering, stumbling, clinging spur to spur, walked back. He returned to the hotel so overwhelmed with fatigue, as if he had made a huge trek somewhere in Turkestan, in the Sahara. He, gathering his last strength, entered his large and empty room. The room was already tidy, devoid of the last traces of her - only one hairpin, forgotten by her, lay on the night table! He took off his jacket and looked at himself in the mirror: his face - an ordinary officer’s face, gray from the tan, with a whitish mustache, bleached from the sun and bluish white eyes, which seemed even whiter from the tan - now had an excited, crazy expression, and in There was something youthful and deeply unhappy about the thin white shirt with a standing starched collar. He lay down on the bed on his back and put his dusty boots on the dump. The windows were open, the curtains were drawn, and a light breeze blew them in from time to time, blowing into the room the heat of heated iron roofs and all this luminous and now completely empty, silent Volga world. He lay with his hands under the back of his head and looked intently in front of him. Then he clenched his teeth, closed his eyelids, feeling the tears rolling down his cheeks from under them, and finally fell asleep, and when he opened his eyes again, the evening sun was already turning reddish yellow behind the curtains. The wind died down, the room was stuffy and dry, like in an oven... Both yesterday and this morning were remembered as if they had happened ten years ago. He slowly got up, slowly washed his face, raised the curtains, rang the bell and asked for the samovar and the bill, and drank tea with lemon for a long time. Then he ordered a cab driver to be brought, things to be taken out, and, sitting in the cab, on its red, faded seat, he gave the footman five rubles. - And it looks like, your honor, that it was I who brought you at night! - the driver said cheerfully, taking the reins. When we went down to the pier, the blue summer night was already shining over the Volga, and many colorful lights were already scattered along the river, and the lights were hanging on the masts of the approaching steamship. - Delivered it right! - the cab driver said ingratiatingly. The lieutenant gave him five rubles, took a ticket, walked to the pier... Just like yesterday, there was a soft knock on its pier and slight dizziness from the unsteadiness underfoot, then a flying end, the sound of water boiling and running forward under the wheels a little back the steamer pulled up... And the crowd of this ship, already everywhere lit and smelling of kitchen, seemed unusually friendly and good. A minute later they ran further, upward, to the same place where she had been carried away just that morning. The dark summer dawn faded far ahead, gloomily, sleepily and multi-coloredly reflected in the river, which in some places still glowed like trembling ripples in the distance beneath it, under this dawn, and the lights floated and floated back, scattered in the darkness around. The lieutenant sat under a canopy on the deck, feeling ten years older. Maritime Alps, 1925.

Outside the window blue sky, summer may be coming to an end - perhaps this is the last, farewell salvo - but it is still hot and there is a lot, a lot of sun. And I remembered Bunin’s magnificent summer story “Sunstroke.” I took it and re-read it first thing in the morning. Bunin is one of my favorite writers. How perfectly he wields his “writer’s sword”! What precise language, what a rich still life of descriptions he always has!

And it doesn’t leave such positive impressions at all "Sunstroke", which was based on the story Nikita Mikhalkov. As a film critic, I couldn’t help but remember this film.


Let's compare both "blows". Despite the difference in types of art, cinema and literature, we have the right to do this. Cinema, as a kind of synthesis of a dynamic picture and narrative text (let’s take music out of the equation, it won’t be needed for analysis), cannot do without literature. It is assumed that any movie, at a minimum, begins with a script. The script, as in our case, can be based on any narrative work.

On the other hand (at first glance, this idea may seem absurd) literature cannot do without “cinema”! This is despite the fact that cinema appeared quite recently, thousands of years ago. later literature. But I put cinema in quotes - its role is played by our imagination, which, in the process of reading a particular book, creates the movement of visual images within our consciousness.

A good author doesn't just write a book. He sees all events, even the most fantastic ones, with his own eyes. That’s why you believe such a writer. The director tries to translate his images, his vision into cinema with the help of actors, interiors, objects and a camera.

At these points of contact between cinema and literature, we can compare the emotions from Bunin’s story and from the film created on its basis. And in our case, we have two absolutely different works. And the point here is not only in the free interpretation that the director allowed himself - his picture independent work, he certainly has the right to do so. However…

However, look (read) how quickly and easily Bunin’s lady agrees to adultery. “Oh, do as you want!” she says at the beginning of the story and goes ashore with the lieutenant for one night, so that later they will never meet, but remember their date all their lives. What lightness and weightlessness Bunin has! How accurately this mood is conveyed! How perfectly described is this flash of love, this sudden desire, this impossible accessibility and blissful frivolity!

As in every Bunin's story, a masterful description of the provincial town where he ended up main character. And how precisely the gradual transition from this atmosphere of a miracle that occurred to the strong gravity of boundless longing for past happiness, for lost paradise is shown. After parting, for the lieutenant, the world around him gradually takes on a leaden weight and becomes meaningless.



With Mikhalkov, the heaviness is immediately felt. The film clearly states two worlds, before and after the 1917 Revolution. The world “before” is shown in light, soft tones, in the world “after” there are cold and gloomy colors, gloomy gray-blue. In the world “before” there is a steamboat, a cloud, ladies in lace and with umbrellas, here everything happens according to the plot of Bunin’s “blow”. In the world “after” – drunken sailors, a dead peacock and commissars in leather jackets – we are shown from the first frames “ damn days", tough times. But "heavy" new world We don’t need it, let’s focus on the old one, where the lieutenant gets sunstroke and falls in love with a young fellow traveler. Things are not easy for Nikita Sergevich there either.

To get the lady and Lieutenant Mikhalkov to get along, it took some tricks, absurdities, dancing and heavy drinking. It was necessary to show how water drips from the tap (by the way, I have a similar problem), and the pistons work in the engine room. And even a gas scarf, flying from place to place, did not help... It did not create an atmosphere of lightness.

The lieutenant needed to create a hysterical scene in front of the lady. It’s hard, Nikita Sergeevich, it’s very hard and unbearable for your man and woman to come together. Clumsy, clumsy, awkward. This could only happen at Soviet resorts, and not in Russia, which you, Nikita Sergeevich, lost. Ivan Alekseevich wrote about something completely different! Three hours after meeting, the lieutenant asks the lady: “Let’s get off!”, and they get off on an unfamiliar pier - “crazy...” Buninsky’s lieutenant sets a pickup truck record. And in Mikhalkov, the Russian officer is afraid of women, then he faints in front of a naked courtesan (see “The Barber of Siberia”), then he gets very drunk in order to explain himself to the lady.



According to Mikhalkov, their subsequent labor of love, which Bunin did not describe, is also difficult, and there is also a certain lightness of the hint - the reader will imagine everything himself. And in the film, the camera leads us to a woman’s chest, abundantly dotted with drops of sweat - what were they doing there? Was the furniture moved in the hotel? Let's go! Vulgar and vulgar! The view from the window in the morning is vulgar: the sun, a green hill and a path leading to the church. Sweet and cloying. It makes me sick!

Many scenes that Bunin does not have are absurd and crudely pasted on. They deserve only bewilderment. For example, a magician in a restaurant uses the example of a lemon with a seed to explain to the lieutenant the theory of Marx’s “Capital”. What kind of nonsense is this? These unnecessary scenes only create a bad aftertaste, as if you drank some mutterings that hit your brain hard.



Nikita Sergeevich, of course, is a master of his craft. This cannot but be recognized when you see how his camera works, what angles it captures, how the picture is staged. And the actors can’t say that they play poorly in the film, sometimes they even do great! But when everything is glued together into a single picture, it turns out to be some kind of rubbish and porridge. It's like you're spending time in a bad, incoherent dream.

Mikhalkov tries time and again to create a new film language, but all of him latest movies It’s impossible to watch, it’s schizophrenia, not a movie. Failure follows failure. This is what happened with his last “Sunstroke”.

The pearl of Russian literature, a bright representative of the era of modernism, Ivan Alekseevich Bunin became a unique phenomenon in world culture. He was a successor of the Russian realistic school, but in his prose, according to A.K. Zholkovsky, “traditional realism has undergone radical changes” [Zholkovsky, 1994: 103], which affected the specifics of the writer’s individual artistic style. The plots of most of his stories are static, the characters seem to be removed from the action, they are more concerned with thoughts, dreams, voices, sounds. In the space of their world, individual details, colors, smells and sensations acquire important accents. This is fully presented in one of best works I.A. Bunin “Sunstroke”, written in Paris in 1925 and published in 1926 in the main magazine of Russian emigration “Modern Notes”. In the margins of the manuscript of the story, the author himself makes a very laconic and precise entry “Nothing superfluous,” which is a kind of aesthetic “symbol of faith” of I.A. Bunina [Russian writers. 1800-1917: Biographical Dictionary, 1989: 360].

The plot of the work is based on chance meeting a young lieutenant and a charming lady, who remains for the reader a charming stranger. In passing, we note that the name of the lieutenant is also not mentioned in the work. This fleeting acquaintance, which the author calls an adventure, will turn out to be significant and fatal for the heroes of the work, and in the story it will become the ideological and semantic core. The plot of the action takes place on the ship, where the lieutenant noticed one rather attractive person and decided to “hit” her. Probably, then it seemed to him that this ordinary affair was just another episode in his bachelor’s life, an easy flirtation, a momentary infatuation. Not thinking that an accident could turn his entire habitual existence upside down, the lieutenant invited his fellow traveler to get off at the first pier.

The artistic space of the work is relatively closed: first the action takes place on a ship, then moves to a small provincial hotel. The isolation is emphasized by another detail: “the footman closed the door.” The heroes of the story, left alone, seemed to dissolve in the feeling that gripped them, which they were unable to resist. Many years later, both, according to the author, will remember this, because “neither one nor the other has ever experienced anything like this in their entire lives.”

At first it might seem that the lieutenant was driven by a purely physiological passion, and that the stranger was frivolous or even depraved woman, but then the reader is convinced of the opposite. The true meaning of the title of the work and true feelings heroes are revealed in farewell recognition“little nameless woman”: “I give you my word of honor that I am not at all what you might think of me. Nothing even close to what happened has ever happened to me, and there never will be again. The eclipse definitely hit me... Or, rather, we both got something like sunstroke..."

Having easily parted with his companion, the lieutenant suddenly began to feel some kind of incomprehensible, ever-growing anxiety. The author draws attention to the hero’s inner world and strives to reveal the psychology of his feelings and actions. As noted by I.B. Nichiporov, writer “rethinks realistic principles realism", "refuses extensive internal monologues characters and actively uses indirect methods of revealing spiritual impulses” [Nichiporov]. young man a burning melancholy literally eats away, and nothing can quench it: neither vodka, nor wandering around the city, nor memories. The hero’s state is emphasized by rhetorical questions and exclamations included in the text of the narrative: “Why prove? Why convince?”, “...how to get rid of this sudden, unexpected love?”, “What is wrong with me?”, “My nerves have completely lost me!”

Performs an important compositional function in the story. artistic time, which seems to destroy the framework of real time, covering less than two days, and turns first into ten years, and then into a whole life. Let's explain this. At the end of the work, the young lieutenant, heavily experiencing the loss of short-term happiness, remembers yesterday and the new morning as “as if they were ten years ago.” And then, sitting on the deck of the ship, he feels “ten years older.” The author deliberately uses this very epithet, emphasizing not so much the age of the hero (after all, he could not grow old in ten years), but rather the end of happiness, and therefore of life. At the same time, attention should be paid to the fact that “there was something youthful and deeply unhappy about the white thin shirt with a standing starched collar.” This detail does not conflict with the epithet “aged”, but only emphasizes the defenselessness and helplessness of a person who has experienced a difficult love drama How does a child feel in the face of insurmountable adversity? Just recently, a dashing, brave officer, unable to cope with the pain, clenched his teeth and closed his eyes and cried bitterly. There is also something childish and hopeless about this.

The mental anguish of the hero of the story shows that he has now learned the great price of true love and happiness, “too much,” as I.A. emphasizes. Bunin. The word “too” is used here deliberately: it focuses on the tragedy itself, which broke the lieutenant’s heart and which cannot be overcome.

As is known, early stories I.A. Bunin was distinguished by lyricism and impressionism. IN this work also a moment, an instant determines the artistic focus of the narrative fabric. It is the moment that is the connecting link between the past (the heroes have never experienced such a feeling before) and the future (they will remember this meeting for many years), and it itself is the present, which is unfairly fleeting.

In this story I.A. Bunin proved himself to be an unsurpassed master literary prose, possessing an invaluable poetic gift. The metaphor “sunstroke”, included in the title of the work itself, becomes a symbol of “too great love, too much happiness." The author conveys the lieutenant’s painful experiences and his exhausted walking around the city in search of peace with the help of a comparison: “He returned to the hotel so overwhelmed with fatigue, as if he had made a huge trek somewhere in Turkestan, in the Sahara.” It’s as if a rather visible image of a charming stranger appears under the artist’s brush, which is created by turning on the technique artistic portrait: “a simple, lovely laugh”, “a hand, small and strong”, smelling of tan, “a strong body”, “a lively, simple and cheerful sound of her voice”, “a light canvas dress”, “a good English cologne”. A vivid and extremely accurate portrait of a person who has experienced a deep loss is also presented in the lieutenant’s face: “gray from a tan, with a whitish mustache bleached by the sun and bluish white eyes, which seemed even whiter from the tan,” it has now acquired “an excited, crazy expression.”

A significant element of the work is the artistic landscape. The reader sees with his own eyes a small Volga city with its bazaar, churches, streets, shops, and hotel. All this is filled with sounds and - most importantly - smells: “... ten o’clock in the morning, sunny, hot, happy, with the ringing of churches, with a market on the square in front of the hotel, with the smell of hay, tar and again all that complex and odorous smell that a Russian district smells of.” city..." The author, describing the urban landscape, resorts to an antinomy: the joy of the outside world and the deep drama inner world hero. Everything around in this town was filled with life and happiness, and the lieutenant’s heart was torn apart from pain, so that “he, without hesitation, would die tomorrow if it were possible by some miracle to return her,” the desired and beloved stranger.

In general, the story “Sunstroke” is permeated with subtle lyricism and deep psychologism. In this work, the writer managed to show “a feeling of protest against the transience of happiness”, “against the meaninglessness of life after the happiness experienced” [Wagemans, 2002: 446]. In an extremely concise form, but with enormous emotional power, I.A. Bunin depicted here the tragedy of a man who unexpectedly truly knew happy love and suddenly lost her, showed the irrational hidden in the depths of the mysterious human soul.

References

1. Bunin I.A. Collected works in four volumes. Volume III. – M.: Pravda, 1988. – 544 p.

2. Wagemans E. Russian literature from Peter the Great to the present day. Per. D. Silvestrov. – M.: RSUH, 2002. – 554 p.

3. Zholkovsky A.K. Wandering Dreams and Other Works. – M.: Science. Publishing company “Eastern Literature”, 1994. – 428 p.

4. Nichiporov I.B. The story "Sunstroke". – Access mode: http://mirznanii.com/a/58918/bunin-solnechnyy-udar.

5. Russian writers. 1800-1917: Biographical Dictionary. T. 1. – M.: Sov. encyclopedia, 1989.– 672 p.