Some films are more ambitious than others and it's difficult to toe the line between an impressive feat and a gaudy spectacle. Alexander Sukorov's 2002 masterpiece Russkiy Kovcheg (Russian Ark) is a singular work of cinematic beauty that balances its near-Rococo sense of imperial splendor with an eye for vibrant humanity and a dreamlike sensibility.

There are many reasons to be awed by Russian Ark, but the real selling point is the fact that it is a 90-minute film done in a single take. The entire movie is one, long tracking shot helmed by Director of Photography Tilman Buttner under the care of Sukorov's exhausting handle on the cast of thousands as well as the elaborate lighting system created and directed by Bernd Fischer and Anatoli Radionov. Sukorov also doubles as the voice of the unseen protagonist through whose eyes we see the entirety of the film.

The only consistent on-screen star of Russian Ark is "The European", a French traveler played by Sergei Duntsov based loosely on a 19th century writer, the Marquis de Custine. The central conceit of the film is that the POV narrator died in an accident and is now a ghost walking through the famous Winter Palace in St. Petersburg. The European joins him for most of the journey, but occasionally wanders off on his own caprice. The narrator moves through different periods of time, witnessing events both mundane and historically significant.

At times, Russian Ark allows the Winter Palace to be much like it is today, a museum of Russian history. Though for most of its run it is a lot deeper than that. The film addresses a long-standing question about Russian culture since the widespread reforms of Peter the Great. Is the Russian culture we know today unique unto itself, is it solidly European as we see Italian or French culture, or is it some strange mix of the two?

Russian Ark is, without a doubt, a pageant of the country's splendor but it also has a distinct sense of the bittersweet about it. Among the gorgeous set pieces and lush emotional displays, there is also a feeling of confusion and claustrophobia. The narrator is equally trapped within his country's history as he is defined by it. This mix of justified pride and spiritual disquiet is quintessentially Russian and so Russian Ark is the quintessential film of its culture.

On a single day in December, 2001 Alexander Sukorov made a truly stunning work of cinematic art. As a technical achievement it is as yet unparalleled and as a narrative its dedication to the unbroken premise is utterly entrancing. While Russian Ark is enjoyable at face value thanks to everything from partial symphonies to royal masquerade balls, it provides a rewarding experience for those with a deep enough understanding of Russian culture to catch clever references and powerfully ironic glimpses into history. The film practically begs for repeated viewings thanks to Sukorov's eye for detail. If nothing else, Russian Ark is a unique film from a unique culture.