Grigori Chukhrai's Soviet film Ballad of a Soldier begins with a downbeat and downcast voice-over informing us of a situation in which a young boy's mother will never have the chance to have recited to her the rather epic story her fateful son has to tell. She gazes, ruefully, down a broad road leading off into the distance as she stands on the brink of where her town and general dwelling area meets wilderness; a longing look on her face and an uneasy establishment of power over a rather forlorn figure established within us. Just as you dread a Soviet era period piece set during The Second World War in which war heroism from the country's youngest and finest is at the very forefront; as the rest of those those poor, equally brave in some sense civilians stay at home and weep for the very soul of the nation; the situation and those on the front, Ballad of a Soldier actually opens up into one of the more interesting coming of age tales I've seen.<br /><br />The young man at the forefront of the piece is a certain private by the name of Alyosha Skvortsov (Ivashov), a boy whose war exploits would indeed make a fine story to tell any mother; friend or friend of a mother in the sense that in the heat of conflict, two Nazi tanks are wiped out by the said young man who has both the reality and responsibility of fighting on the Easatern Front thrust onto him at this early age. Following these heroic acts, Alyosha is granted a six day leave and takes it upon himself to return home in hope to complete an errand that is embedded at his family's house in the roof requiring mending. Thus begins Alyosha's travels, a sort of circular journey as he leaves the front with the intent of coming back again blended with that of a straight, singular line journey or 'road movie' as he ventures from 'A' to 'B'; discovering and finding new experiences and emotions in the process. The film is decidedly anti-war, rendering it a soulless and empty experience if a young man's coming of age adventures are explored on the travels he makes inbetween exploits of a combative ilk, and thus gradually informing us that any prior 'dread' we may have had in what to expect from this period Soviet piece, was unnecessary.<br /><br />The film will focus on Alyosha's travels in a minute and careful manner, observing one such instance in which the failure to identify the moment when it is apparently necessary to bribe someone, almost getting caught out and rectifying the situation before applying the said learning later on under different conditions. This trial and error process nestles in with the overall study, while Alyosha's naivety will see him, in a gleeful and euphoric mood at the time following the granting of the six day leave, happily take on the extra burden of delivering a gift from one soldier to their partner along the way; something that we will eventually come to realise merely delays the lead as well as put his life at needless risk. The extra burden of a chore is significant in the sense it is an odd job Alyosha is returning home for, and in preoccupying himself with one of someone else, risks the threat being unable to fulfil a duty set by himself - but it's all part of a learning process.<br /><br />If anything, Chukhrai's film victimises the 'little guy', or the poorer and more grounded characters such as Alyosha and those he encounters - it pities them and presents their situation as less than desirable; whereas stately figures such as soldiers and others of various degrees of authority are hard-nosed, seemingly uncompromising and find it rather difficult to understand the true nature of human emotion. Without giving too much away, if a particular truck impatiently loitering nearer the end knew anything about what certain people had been through up to that point, they'd surely had more remorse than they actually exhibit. Chukhrai's representation of two classes of people, worlds apart, but bound within the same nation is both sly and inspired.<br /><br />Rather, the film focuses on Alyosha's relationship with a young girl he meets whilst stowing away on a cargo train returning home: she is Shura (Prokhorenko). The ties binding the two of them see an immediate connection, items they have in common from the offset; capturing that sense of being able to bond with someone from the offset as you come to realise the two of you are sharing the same boat, so to speak. Both are boarding the goods train without warrant; both of them will suffer the same repercussions if caught and both of them are merely trying to get to a homely place. The initial thrill, at least for the audience, in these two coming together is part-cruelly, part-wonderfully interrupted by the train's large, wooden door being torn open by a guard on the outside who then engages in talk with Alyosha, before he himself is able to renew acquaintances with Shura.<br /><br />The two bond as the train steams on ahead, before stopping at a number of stations, before slowly turning over and heading on out of them again. The cut away shots of the moving, travelling train representative of both characters' forward moving journey and furtherance of their development; the stop-start nature of the mode of transport in question as it pauses at regular intervals for whatever reason is representative of their initial on-off truce with one another, two stowaways in equal measure and two people forced into sharing a space throughout the development process together. The fact of the matter being that it cracks along at a tremendous rate, with, as cited by Chukhrai himself, the nervous energy from the amateur acting talent propelling what is a very beautiful and very natural progressive act caught magnificently.