‘Mr. Landsbergis’ Review: Sergey Loznitsa Chronicles Lithuania’s Journey To Freedom [True/False Film Festival]

At a whopping 246 minutes, Sergey Loznitsa’s feature documentary “Mr. Landsbergis” spans a duration longer than some non-fiction miniseries that pop up on streamers now. When looking at the film in totality, it’s perhaps possible to find natural divisions to demarcate chapters within the crucial three-year span from 1989 to 1991 when Lithuania establishes its independence from the USSR. But it doesn’t take much time spent with the film’s subject, Vytautas Landsbergis, to understand why the marathon-length is such a necessary component for relaying his story.

Landsbergis, who became the first Head of Parliament in Lithuania, defies all expectations of the kind of leader who helps lead a country to their independence. He’s not an exceptionally charismatic orator nor an ardently committed ideologue. Instead of nationalism, he preaches a civil gospel of rationalism. His speeches, many of which Loznitsa plays out in extended detail, make calmly logical appeals for the sovereignty and self-determination of the Lithuanian people. Landsbergis’ words, always rooted in truth and justice, stand in stark contrast to the empty political platitudes proffered by Soviet president Mikhail Gorbachev. No wonder political scientists like Francis Fukayama looked at figures such as Landsbergis and proclaimed the breakup of the Soviet Union as ushering in the “end of history.” The triumph of reason over emotion flies in the face of the traditional revolutionary impulse.

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Without the blinders of rebellious zealotry, Landsbergis maintains a clear-eyed view of what it will take to break away from Russia: hard work. Loznitsa’s film assumes the form of his subject’s workmanlike tendencies, chronicling each step along the way to establishing the legitimacy of Lithuanian democracy with methodical detail. And, like Landsbergis, the filmmaker operates under the assumption that people are smart enough to connect the dots without excessive handholding.

“Mr. Landsbergis” gently oscillates between two polarities in its narrativization. On the one hand, there’s an impressive trove of archival footage presented with the bare minimum of contextualizing title cards. On the other, Loznitsa presents pieces from an extended talking head-style interview with his subject in the present day. The film’s gentle rhythm harnesses both the immediacy of the moment and the insight of Landsbergis’ hindsight. It’s a patient construction of compartmentalizing befitting his own long game.

Loznitsa allows revelations to play out in real-time rather than have shifty editing foretell each development. The current Landsbergis does not get to narrate over the archival footage; the director leaves that footage to speak for itself. Luckily, the eloquent speechifying of the Lithuanian leaders agitating for independence leaves little unremarked upon. Only in the briefly combative period between Lithuania and the USSR in January 1991 where “Mr. Landsbergis” loses that oratorical crutch, and it’s the one section of the movie that drags a bit as a result. (Given that this climactic portion of Lithuanian liberation occurs at around hour three, that sense of diminished effectiveness really compounds.)

The film stops just short of outright hagiography, though it’s hard to view all Losnitza’s time and attention as anything but fawning. The present-day interview mostly unfurls as an uninterrupted monologue from Landsbergis with limited interjection from the filmmaker. He requires little pushback or prompting; even in his advanced years, his memory and intellect remain sharp as a tack. There are moments when Landsbergis’ musings from an unheard prompt by Losnitza don’t even seem like a direct commentary on the adjacent archival footage. It’s revelatory to tease out the connection felt by either the interviewer or the subject.

Even if “Mr. Landsbergis” amounts to just an impressively mounted living history lesson, it’s still a worthwhile and commendable effort with wisdom to spare for the present moment. Landsbergis’ humility and humanity offer a refreshing antidote to a contemporary wave of political change tied to myopic nationalism and hollow nativism. It’s a reminder that self-determination is not the product of sloganeering or sheer brute force. True democracy comes to pass when a people commit to the arduous work necessary to ensure its sustained success. It’s as true for creating good governance as it is for maintaining it. [B]