Even now, the American Dream seems almost jokingly unattainable. Pulling up your bootstraps and achieving financial and personal success from the ground up, in this economy, in this day and age, seems like an impossible feat – one that most of us generation millennials would laugh at. Hampered by burdens such as endless student debt, the search for jobs that no longer exist, and blockades to necessary education such as wealth and class, the American Dream is no longer an idealist-but-potentially-achievable dream through hard work and perseverance, but more like a folktale of a bygone era.
Thus, director Darya Zhuk’s film, set four years after the fall of the Soviet Union, finds a graduate with a law degree stuck in the stagnancy of Post-Soviet Minsk, aching to escape the lawlessness of Belarus and the bitterness of its peoples who yearn for the resurgence of order, and attain the freedom promised in America. By acting on her high hopes for the land of milk and honey, she discovers that the American Dream is far more complicated than having a resolve made of titanium and the bright eyes of a twenty-something who yearns for a better life.
Crystal Swan is about the murky foundation that the American Dream is built on, the impossibility of its promises, but the persistence it instills on those who are willing to fight for it, even in the most unfortunate circumstances.
From Minsk to Crystal
Velya (an enchanting Alina Nassibulina) has dreams brighter than the neon-blue wig she occasionally dons and draws disapproving passerby looks from. Stuck in her hometown of Minsk with her disappointed museum-curator mother (Svetlana Anikey) and druggie boyfriend Alik (Yuriy Borisov), whose only aspirations amount to throwing the best techno party this side of the fallen Soviet Union, Velya yearns to leave the backwater ways of Belarus and make it big as a DJ in Chicago, where house music reigns supreme.
While waiting in the long line at the American Embassy, Velya learns that she needs a far more substantial means of employment than just hesitantly claiming she’s a DJ, in order to obtain the visa she desires. With a little help from a sketchy man clad in an all-red Adidas tracksuit, and a crystal factory somewhere in a town literally named Crystal, Velya successfully forges her application. Everything seems to be going well, until she discovers that the Embassy will give the number listed on the application a call in order to confirm her employment status. Of course, Alik had listed for Velya a random and unknown number belonging to a home off in the town of Crystal. And so, Velya embarks on a journey to this bleak, backwards little village, in an attempt to reach the telephone belonging to the number she gave and potentially intercept the call from the Embassy once it arrives.
But things don’t go as smoothly as Velya had hoped, and her arrival to the desolate land of Crystal proves about as unwelcome as her entry into the apartment of Alya (Lyudmila Razumova) – the place of residence for Velya’s accidental phone number. A headstrong mother who is unsympathetic to Velya’s troubles as she prepares diligently for her son’s wedding, Velya’s requests to either sit by the phone, or have Alya answer it for her, go unauthorized. However, with a little of that persistence that lead her to the American Embassy, and then all the way to Crystal, in the first place, it’s eventually Alya’s betrothed son, Stepan (Ivan Mulin), who allows Velya to monitor their phone as necessary.
Brutal and Nuanced, if Slow
It is here in Crystal that Velya is pulled farther away from her dreams than she even realizes, despite her proximity to the sacred phone that is the only thing standing in the way between her and her visa. For the people of Crystal, Minsk might as well be America, and Velya’s dreams of freedom in the States are mostly disregarded by a town who mourn the loss of the order and rules that the Soviet Union once gave them. Stuck in this Land Before Time, Velya navigates the ways of the stubborn, old-fashioned locals, in a town that seems both intent on keeping her imprisoned in the past, while constantly reminding her that she doesn’t belong there. Her only way forward is out, but that’s only if her Motherland will allow her.
The film finds itself in as much of a standstill as its lead character once it arrives to the town of Crystal, and the point of Velya’s regression in her quest is both heightened and hindered by the dragging of the second act. Though the film thrusts itself confidently into its journey and Velya’s rebellious longing, and concludes just as eloquently, if only in a much darker place than it began, its middle feels mostly passive and lacking in any tangible action.
Velya “befriends” Alya’s son Stepan, as a reluctant bond is formed through their discussions of his recent stint in the army, his distaste towards her fixation with America, and his toxic masculinity which Velya seems both intrigued and repulsed by. Crystal and its inhabitants are a reminder of what Velya is desperately trying to escape from, but its stranglehold on her as she sits patiently by Alya’s telephone is exemplary of the fragmented ideals inherent within the American Dream.
Velya’s time in Crystal is less of the “unlikely friends”, “worlds colliding” romp that it possibly could have been, and more of a reminder how necessary it is to leave a place that only ever intends to harm you. At the same time, it is both critical of the American Dream and showcasing of its power – the struggle that it creates from its seemingly simple and hopeful message, for those who do not have the means to access it; the way it utterly mistreats its wide-eyed believers with its baseless promises of a bounty that will forever lay just out of reach.
But also, of the strength and courage it gives to those with enough fervor to make a better life for themselves. Velya leaving Belarus is proven vital by her time spent in Crystal, and it is the struggle produced by both Crystal and Velya’s idealization of America that has, perhaps, finally implanted within her the necessary means to escape.
Crystal Swan: Conclusion
Velya’s mother likes to tell people that they should never leave their Motherland, but Crystal Swan is a reminder that often it is essential to do so. The meager amount of hope instilled by the end of Crystal Swan is still hope nonetheless; hope that remains within Velya despite the way Crystal utterly wasted her, hope of a better life away from men like Stepan, and towns and people who exist only as relics of the past.
There is light on the horizon of the American Dream, no matter how dim or how distant it may be. Perhaps, Velya will never reach it, but it is certain that she will try.
What are your thoughts on Crystal Swan? Let us know in the comments!
Crystal Swan hits Slamdance Film Festival on January 26th. For more release info, see here.
Does content like this matter to you?
Become a Member and support film journalism. Unlock access to all of Film Inquiry`s great articles. Join a community of like-minded readers who are passionate about cinema - get access to our private members Network, give back to independent filmmakers, and more.