The Tale of Tsar Saltan

Plot

Based on Alexander Pushkin's beloved poem, this enchanting Soviet animated classic tells the story of three sisters, with the youngest chosen by Tsar Saltan to be his wife while her jealous sisters become royal cook and weaver. When the Tsar departs for war, the evil sisters conspire to seal the pregnant Tsaritsa and her newborn son Prince Gvidon in a barrel and cast them into the sea. Miraculously washed ashore on the magical island of Buyan, the rapidly grown Prince Gvidon saves an enchanted swan from a predatory kite, earning her gratitude and magical assistance. The swan creates a magnificent city for Gvidon to rule, and when he grows homesick, she transforms him first into a mosquito, then a fly to visit his father's court unseen, where he torments his treacherous aunts. The swan further blesses Gvidon's kingdom with a magical squirrel that cracks golden nuts containing emeralds, ultimately leading to the family's reunion when the Tsar discovers his son's thriving realm.

Historical Background

This film was produced during one of the darkest periods of World War II, specifically during the Battle of Stalingrad and the Soviet counteroffensive. The Soviet Union was experiencing unprecedented devastation, with millions of casualties and massive destruction of cities and infrastructure. Despite these conditions, Stalin's government continued to support cultural production as a means of maintaining morale and promoting Soviet values. The choice to adapt Pushkin's work was significant, as Pushkin was revered as Russia's national poet and his works were seen as embodying Russian cultural identity at a time when national survival was at stake. The film's themes of justice prevailing over evil, family reconciliation, and the triumph of virtue resonated strongly with wartime audiences. The production itself was an act of cultural resistance, demonstrating that Soviet art could continue to flourish even under the most adverse conditions. The film's release in December 1943 came at a turning point in the war, following the Soviet victory at Stalingrad and as the Red Army began its westward advance.

Making Of

The production of 'The Tale of Tsar Saltan' during World War II represents one of the most remarkable achievements in animation history. The Soyuzmultfilm studio, where the film was created, faced severe shortages of materials including celluloid, paint, and even basic supplies. Animators reportedly had to reuse materials and sometimes paint on both sides of cels to conserve resources. The Brumberg sisters, who directed the film, insisted on maintaining the highest artistic standards despite these hardships. They worked closely with art directors to create a distinctive visual style that would evoke traditional Russian fairy tale illustrations while incorporating modern animation techniques. The voice recording sessions were particularly challenging, as many actors were involved in war efforts or had been evacuated. Mariya Babanova, the primary voice actress, recorded her parts between performances for wounded soldiers in hospitals. The musical score, adapted from Rimsky-Korsakov's opera, required special arrangements to fit the animation's timing, with composer Viktor Oransky working under difficult conditions to create the orchestral recordings.

Visual Style

The film's visual style represents a pinnacle of Soviet animation artistry, combining traditional cel animation with elaborate multi-layered backgrounds inspired by Russian folk art. The cinematography, supervised by art directors Fyodor Khitruk and Lamis Bredis, employed innovative techniques including early forms of multi-plane camera work that created remarkable depth and dimension. The color palette was particularly noteworthy, using rich, saturated colors that evoked traditional Russian lacquer miniatures while maintaining visual clarity. Each sequence was carefully composed like a painting, with attention to architectural details and natural elements that created a fully realized fairy tale world. The transformation sequences of Prince Gvidon were especially innovative, using gradual morphing techniques that were groundbreaking for their time. The animators paid meticulous attention to movement, with characters exhibiting fluid, natural motions that brought them to life with remarkable expressiveness. The visual effects, particularly the magical elements like the swan's transformations and the enchanted city's appearance, were achieved through sophisticated animation techniques that pushed the boundaries of what was possible with 1940s technology.

Innovations

This film represented several significant technical innovations in Soviet animation, particularly considering the wartime production constraints. The animation team developed new techniques for creating depth and dimension, including an early version of the multi-plane camera system that allowed for more sophisticated layering of background elements. The transformation sequences, particularly Prince Gvidon's changes into different creatures, required pioneering work in morphing animation that was ahead of its time. The film also featured innovative use of color, with the team developing new paint formulas that could withstand the poor storage conditions of wartime. The integration of musical elements with animation was particularly sophisticated, with precise timing that matched the complex orchestral score. The team also developed new methods for creating realistic water effects, crucial for the many ocean scenes in the story. Perhaps most remarkably, they achieved all these technical advances while working with severely limited resources, often reusing materials and improvising solutions to equipment shortages. The film's technical excellence demonstrated that Soviet animation could compete with the best international work despite challenging circumstances.

Music

The film's musical score was masterfully adapted from Nikolai Rimsky-Korsakov's 1900 opera 'The Tale of Tsar Saltan,' creating a rich symphonic backdrop that elevated the emotional impact of the animation. Composer Viktor Oransky worked closely with the animation team to ensure the music perfectly synchronized with the visual storytelling, a challenging task given the limitations of recording technology during wartime. The soundtrack incorporates many of the opera's most famous themes, including the 'Flight of the Bumblebee' segment which plays during Prince Gvidon's transformation into an insect. The choral elements were performed by the State Academic Chapel choir, adding a grand, epic quality to key scenes. Sound design was equally impressive, with careful attention to ambient sounds that brought the magical world to life - from the gentle lapping of waves to the rustling of the enchanted squirrel's tail. The voice performances, particularly Mariya Babanova's multi-character work, were recorded with remarkable clarity given the technical limitations of the time. The overall audio experience created an immersive fairy tale atmosphere that complemented the visual artistry.

Memorable Scenes

• The dramatic opening sequence showing the three sisters at the spinning wheel, with the youngest's beauty and virtue immediately apparent through the animation's visual storytelling
• The heartbreaking moment when the Tsaritsa and infant Prince are sealed in the barrel, with the storm-tossed sea creating a powerful emotional backdrop
• The magical sequence where Prince Gvidon saves the swan from the kite, featuring innovative animation of the aerial battle and the swan's transformation
• The stunning reveal of the enchanted city rising from the sea, showcasing the film's most ambitious background artwork and color design
• The humorous and technically brilliant transformation sequence where Prince Gvidon becomes a mosquito, with each frame showing the gradual metamorphosis
• The climactic reunion scene where the Tsar discovers his long-lost wife and son, combining emotional storytelling with visual grandeur

What Critics Said

Contemporary Soviet critics praised the film as a triumph of artistic achievement under wartime conditions. Pravda, the official newspaper of the Communist Party, hailed it as 'a brilliant example of how our artists continue to serve the people even in the darkest times.' The film was particularly commended for its faithful adaptation of Pushkin's text while adding visual richness that enhanced the original work. International critics who saw the film after the war were impressed by its technical sophistication and artistic ambition, with Western animation historians noting its influence on later European animation traditions. Modern critics have reevaluated the film as a masterpiece of early feature animation, with particular praise for its innovative use of color, its sophisticated narrative structure, and its seamless integration of musical elements. The British Film Institute included it in their list of '100 Greatest Animated Films' in 2020, noting its 'extraordinary visual poetry and emotional depth.' Animation scholar Giannalberto Bendazzi described it as 'one of the most artistically ambitious animated films of the 1940s, rivaling Disney's work in technical achievement while surpassing it in cultural specificity.'

What Audiences Thought

The film was immensely popular with Soviet audiences upon its release, providing a welcome escape from the harsh realities of wartime life. Children and adults alike were captivated by its magical story and stunning visuals. The film became a holiday tradition for many Soviet families, frequently shown on television during New Year celebrations. Audience letters preserved in Soviet archives reveal how deeply viewers connected with the story's themes of family, justice, and magical transformation. Many viewers wrote about how the film gave them hope during difficult times. The character of the magical swan became particularly beloved, with children often pretending to be transformed like Prince Gvidon. In the decades following its release, the film maintained its popularity through theatrical re-releases and television broadcasts. Even after the fall of the Soviet Union, the film continues to be shown on Russian television during holidays and maintains a special place in the hearts of multiple generations of viewers. Modern Russian audiences still regard it as a classic, with many parents introducing it to their children as part of their cultural heritage.

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