Take Care of Men! (1983) Review

Unlike his friend and classmate from the Higher Directing Course at Mosfilm, Georgiy Daneliya, Aleksandr Sery never had the opportunity to become a household name in Soviet cinema. He only made five features, and although one of them, ‘Gentlemen of Fortune’, became a cultural landmark, its production coincided with a devastating prognosis. During the making of that film, Sery was diagnosed with leukaemia, steadily eroding his health and ability to work. As the illness progressed and his prospects narrowed, he took his own life just eleven days before his sixtieth birthday.

His last film, 1983’s ‘Take Care of Men!’, makes Sery’s early death all the more tragic. It reveals a director with a gift for blending social realism and humour, turning the structures of Soviet professional life into something satirical yet heartfelt. It follows Marfa Petrovna Radionova, a deputy director at a research institute, known for her strict, no-nonsense demeanour, as she oversees the development of a new generator. As her hapless husband and a scheming local sculptor- whose courtship masks self-serving ambitions- attempt to control her, will Marfa’s iron will bend under pressure?

Written by Marina Akopova, it is a warmly funny film, with believable character dynamics and an engaging style. It is not unlike Gerald Bezhanov’s ‘The Most Charming and Attractive,’ though the latter leans more directly into-romantic-comedy territory. Both films centre on a strong woman navigating a world of bumbling men, drawing humour from the imbalance of competence and ego. Gently exposing the fragility of male authority in both domestic and professional spheres, ‘Take Care of Men!’ repeatedly stages the collapse of masculine confidence against Marfa’s assured composure.

As both a scientist and a home-keeper, she embodies a level of ability that consistently outpaces those around her- especially her husband, Vovik. In many ways, their relationship subtly subverts traditional household dynamics. She is the primary breadwinner, while he relies on her for financial support. Remaining singularly focused on her work, Marfa dismisses his hobbies as lacking any meaningful contribution to their shared life. Whether all this makes the film ahead of its time is debatable, given its primary framing as a source of comedy.

Like many Soviet films of the period, Sery’s film functions as a kind of time capsule, preserving the textures of late Soviet-era life with an observational precision. At the same time, it makes notable use of contemporary technology within its narrative, embedding phones, screens and other high-tech office systems into the comedy itself. These are not neutral background details, but an integral part of how authority and communication operate within the film’s world; reflecting a society in which technological modernisation is beginning to reshape everyday bureaucratic relationships.

For some, the implementation of these technologies may be another source of humour. Whenever a sliding door opens or a computer keyboard is tapped, the sound effects are comically over-the-top, often accompanied by some kind of jingle. Whether intentional or not, these moments lend proceedings a slightly heightened, absurdist quality: even routine bureaucratic actions announce themselves with unnecessary emphasis.

‘Take Care of Men!’ features immersive, grounded cinematography from Ralf Kelly, as well as carefully observed production design. Sery and Kelly avoid overt visual flourish in favour of a lived-in realism, allowing the narrative’s social dynamics come to the fore. This restraint is offset by the aforementioned sound design, and the somewhat overbearing score from Gennadiy Gladkov. The whole affair is knitted together seamlessly by Olga Etenko, whose editing keeps things moving at a brisk pace.

Nina Ruslanova is fantastic as Marfa, balancing comedic timing with an underlying dramatic weight that prevents the character from becoming purely emblematic. Her chemistry with Leonid Kuravlyov’s Vovik is key to the film’s domestic dynamic, with Kuravlyov leaning into comic self-importance and passive frustration. Aleksandr Lazarev is more theatrical as pompous sculptor Graf, though no less effective, while Natalya Seleznyova’s Alla is a constant delight.

In conclusion, Aleksandr Sery’s ‘Take Care of Men!’ stands as a fine example of late Soviet comedy at its most assured: modest in scale, but rich in observation and tonal control. Sery weaves together workplace satire, gendered power dynamics and everyday absurdity with a quiet confidence, leading a uniformly strong cast and crew. It makes one wonder what other films Sery may have gone on to make, had his career- and life- not been cut tragically short. ‘Take Care of Men!’ needs no looking after.