Roads to Koktebel plays like the sequel to The Bicycle Thief transplanted in Russia. The once entirely trusting son has now come to regard his father as an incompetent loser yet sticks with him because he knows no other way. A few more years under him, the boy is old enough to know most of what’s going on and he can communicate with the father on a more adult level. Often, that maturity means insulting the father in ways that a younger boy could not. Then when the boy has taken all of his father’s failures and broken promises that he can handle, he assumes the adult role and strikes out on his own. The only problem is that, just like any young boy who "runs away from home," he still behaves like a child, as seen most vividly in the scene where he grills the philanthropic truck driver about the sea’s whereabouts.
In a more conventional, though also more entertaining, father-son road movie like Road To Perdition, the lifelong distanced son grows closer to his aloof father through a series of life-changing events. In Roads to Koktebel, the exact opposite happens, as is to be expected in a non-Hollywood film. Whether the inverted storyline makes for a more moving experience depends on how much the viewer buys into the staples of art films. Directors Boris Khlebnikov and Alexei Popogrebsky deliver all of the standard goods, including sustained shots on inanimate objects longer than the usual art film, and stick to their guns. There's no question that the technical aspects of a good film are here, but what the film lacks is enough character development and, subsequently, a believable continuity of plot.
While the story is slightly pretentious in its silence and overt artiness, Roads to Koktebel is nevertheless beautifully shot. The rural Russian landscape is shown for all its wonder and muck, crossing captivating forests with dirty roads. Throughout the film, interchanges of long to close shots 180 degrees from one another say more than most of the dialogue. These shots repeatedly imply that what the boy and father want and need is far away, but they are somewhat stuck in place, continually only looking at what they desire. Even when they occasionally interact with their distanced goals, things don't go according to plan and further setbacks occur. This repetition of shots also mirrors their long journey and far away destination, which is only expedited by the brash solo decision of the frustrated boy.
Then there are the obvious metaphors mixed into the sparse dialogue, most notably the boy's interests. The boy becomes fond of gliders and albatrosses, seemingly because they can easily travel long distances with little effort and without much outside help. Restricted by the disappointments of his father, he desires to be like these foreign flying objects and reach the titular goal.
Though the cinematography and metaphors supplement the lack of dialogue and background information, the film itself is largely unfulfilling. If you want a largely silent, well-shot film with an emotionally powerful ending, see Vincent Gallo's The Brown Bunny. Watch Roads to Koktebel for its look, but don't expect much more.