The word “student” is often used synonymously with “lesser”. A student theatre production, for instance, generally means a production absent of professionalism, absent of budget, absent of experience. It is a stepping stone towards the real thing. That is not to say that there is no merit to such an endeavour; rather, “student” productions must be viewed as their own category. It would be unfair to hold them to professional standards. However, The Death of Ivan Ilyich, directed by Noah Cohen and Alex Squires, is not a “student” film. It is a film made, for the most part, by students. This is a marked difference. They have reached a level where it would be disrespectful to do anything other engage critically, thoroughly, and honestly with the work they have produced. The Death of Ivan Ilyich is a remarkable achievement, but a flawed one nonetheless.
The film opens with a quotation from the Tolstoy novella from which it is adapted: “Julius Caesar is a man, men are mortal, therefore Caesar is mortal”. This encapsulates much of what both the film, and the book, are trying to say. We must reckon with our own mortality, something with Ivan Ilyich (Nash Norgaard) at first seems reluctant to do. He is not Caesar; why should such an idiom apply to him? Yet, as we learn from the film’s prologue (or even its title) this is not a story in which death proves beatable. Ivan Ilyich does die, the question that remains is what he learnt.
This is a significant burden for both Norgaard and the filmmakers to carry. Death is not light work; approaching such a theme requires an intimacy and vulnerability that is difficult to come by authentically. Such intimacy is apparent in the filmmaking itself: Norgaard is often shot in close by Squires (who doubled as both director and cinematographer), the camera drawn to him just as the viewer is. It is in these sequences, in addition to a particularly strong use of montage, where the film really shines. On top of this, the composition is consistently interesting (a few shots of Norgaard’s feet would have Tarantino giddy) and the camera moves with intention, although there are some takes that feel as though they were cut slightly short. Perhaps the most intimate and challenging scene to film would have been Ivan Ilych’s breakdown. It underscores the aforementioned montage and is genuinely quite affecting. Crying is hard to pull off on camera unless your name is Paul Mescal, but Norgaard gives it his all and sells the scene completely.
Engaging with this film is aided greatly by a prior understanding of the novella. Prose allows direct access into a character’s thoughts, a skill which extremely difficult for film to replicate. That is not necessarily a fault of the script, but merely a reality of adaptation. This shortcoming is not helped by the sound mixing. The narration near the film’s close should clarify its philosophical perspective, but is overpowered by Nicholas Raptakis’ impressive score. I found myself taken out of the film, more interested in figuring out what was being said rather than why it was being said. One never wants to be reminded that they are watching a film within its runtime. Unfortunately, this did happen on a couple of other occasions: some of the supporting performances are notably weaker than the lead (who himself occasionally – emphasis on occasionally – shows his theatrical roots,) and the dialogue is a little lost between Tolstoy and today. The Death of Ivan Ilyich feels like a film that has a strong sense of what it wants to be but one which lacks the ability to wholly execute it, however close it may come.
That is not to say that the film is not immensely impressive. I wholeheartedly believe it is better than two of the five Oscar nominated life-action short films in 2024 (I’m looking at you The After and Red, White and Blue). To say that about something made largely by students, with largely limited experience, is, quite frankly, astounding. As such, congratulations are in order for everyone involved. Alongside the directors and star, it is important to acknowledge Nikita Matthews, the producer who made it all happen. He, Squires, and Cohen make a mighty team; I don’t doubt that it’s only up from here.
Image Credit: Alex Squires