When thinking of the Kremlin, images likely come to mind of the brick-red Kremlin wall, the colorful onion domes of St. Basil’s Cathedral, the green fir trees, red stars, eagles, golden domes, and P****. However, when people speak of the Kremlin, they always mean more than just a geographical location with architectural features. The Kremlin is a symbol of a political world, a power apparatus, and since 2022 at the latest, a term of terror.
With its symbolic weight, it represents Russia‘s political power and serves as the state’s portrayal of the country. An architectural ensemble that has evolved over many generations – a backdrop for propagandistic purposes and the display of meticulously orchestrated state choreographies. It‘s numerous architectural features bear witness to the past of a building complex full of fractures, which has been shaped over centuries into what it is today: a conglomerate of contradictory forms of power. Set pieces from the Tsarist era, the Russian Empire, the Soviet Union and finally the Russian Federation stand side by side as imposing parts of a grand narrative of supposed continuity.
But what happens if a replica of such an authoritarian power structure is transplanted, alienated and reinterpreted for tourist purposes in another country? – Surrounded by pools and palm trees, the power apparatus transforms into a wellness apparatus for loosely dressed tourists in flip flops on plastic deckchairs. – A utopian backdrop for the undercover vacationer.
The film‘s title, “Ultra All Inclusive”, originates from the booking category of the Kremlin Palace Hotel. Here, “ultra” denotes exceptional services, yet the prefix carries connotations of radicalism or extremism, reflecting its thematic exploration within the film.
Interestingly, I came across the Kremlin Palace Hotel during my research on China‘s border crossing with Russia. Over the past three decades, the Chinese border town of Manzhouli has grown into a tourist trading city, featuring hybrid buildings and numerous duplicatures, including an altered St. Basil’s Cathedral on the Matryoshka Square. A place that, before its tourist boom, played a significant role in my documentary film and longterm project “Aren’t you afraid to swing on Russian swings?” which deals with the shuttle trade. – A mass phenomenon initiated by ordinary people during perestroika as a reaction to the collapse of the Soviet Union, which took my grandfather Vladimir Alin to this exact border crossing in Mongolia in the past. To be precise: 33 times. Despite their academic titles, my grandparents spent thirteen years on the street selling toys, stuffed animals and counterfeit branded clothing from China.
Appearing merely as footnote in the video installation – the VHS footage, presented in a miniature screening with two miniature monobloc chairs, shows excerpts from this film, which is based on my grandfather‘s travel and home movie archive from the 1990s. It offers a glimpse into the border between Russia and China during that decade, showing my grandfather commenting on the hotel, the bazaar, and delivering a speech on the Great Wall, discussing China‘s economic growth. The video ends with his visit to Beijing World Park, a miniature world park featuring scaled-down replicas of iconic landmarks from around the world. Like a travel reporter, he comments on landmarks that he had previously only seen in photographs, thus completing a trip around the world in a single day.
Ironically, during my stay at the hotel, a private toy and household bazaar is held in the large ballroom called "Vladimir". In this context, the "WORLD" - a souvenir from the Kremlin Palace Hotel - becomes an ambiguous link and the façade for the video essay.
