One of the few universal norms that have survived from the most primitive societies is the duty to protect one's home and homeland. The question of whether to answer the call to join the army, however, acquires a different meaning when there is a choice between many different countries and alien wars like those offered by Estonian history.

The 1918 War of Independence has a special place in Estonian national history. Political significance aside, it was the first war where Estonians did not just fight against an alien enemy, but also for their own principles and wishes. The background of the events of 1918 was a situation where the sides were divided more starkly than at any other time in history. World War I had weakened the traditionally powerful positions of the Baltic German nobility; the Imperial German army which had ignored the proclamation of the Estonian Republic, was forced to return home because of a revolution. The vacuum was filled by Estonian politicians, many of whom had administrative experience thanks to their earlier work in local power institutions. They rapidly started assembling an army.

ARMOURED CAR IN THE WAR OF INDEPENDENCE

Instead of manoeuvring between alien powers, this time the question was whether to support the institutions of the vigorously emerging Estonian state or not. With a peasant-like cunning, a large part of those receiving their marching orders ignored them, deciding to wait and see how the balance of power was going to be established. And so when the army of the year-old Soviet state started military action, they were faced with volunteer students, who under any other circumstances would never have been allowed near the front line.

Cinema happily relies on great historical events depicting moral choices at historically radical points where man has to act under the pressure of forces stronger than himself. D. W. Griffith's The Birth of a Nation (1915) is the earliest example. Estonian film appeared in the 1920s but reached regular production in the 1950s. In the ideologically controlled situation of the 1960s, various films were still made that, despite a certain superficiality, followed people's complex choices during World War II. Men in Military Overcoats (director Jüri Müür) did not ignore the fact that Estonians fought on opposing fronts, sometimes in the same battle. The events of 1918 had by that time been erased from the official treatment of history.

HEADQUARTERS OF VILJANDI DEFENCE BATTALION IN 1920

The Communist Party history writers had no reason to recall that the Estonian troops offered considerable opposition to Soviet Russia during the War of Independence and at some point seriously threatened St. Petersburg. Under such conditions Albert Kivikas's novel, published in 1935, Names in Marble, became an icon of passive resistance, just like the national flag. A class of schoolboys who, without a moment's hesitation, joins the bourgeois army (Tartu Defence Battalion) in corpore in no way suited the official version of history.

The novel and its deeper meaning found its place in the national consciousness again in the early 1990s. The idea to make a film dates back to the mid-1990s. To embark on a costly film project in those circumstances would have required a youthful idealism and a disregard for common sense similar to those expressed by the boys who went to war in 1918. Searching for identity in a situation where a small country, carried off by a free market economy, had no choice but to drift downstream, nevertheless created a situation where turning back to the very beginnings of national statehood was considered urgently necessary. From the very first steps, the positive attitude towards the project of all the possible partners was quite obvious. Probably no film has been made with so little effort since Estonia regained independence.

Names is a far cry from a patriotic tour de force as were some films made in the 1990s. The director Elmo Nüganen's repertory in theatre contains a representative selection of contemporary drama and Russian classics. A challenge can be seen in the fact that a director well-versed in psychologically nuanced theatre classics turns to a film lacking, at first glance, any deeper possibilities. An interesting extra meaning to the film is added by the director's decision to employ the entire class of actors he himself supervised for four years at the drama school. The kind of concord perceivable on the screen from the very start, would have been difficult to achieve if actors had been selected by the usual method.

Nüganen and producer Kris Taska have used the novel's plot as a source of ideas that has to be developed into a compact screenplay. It is quite clear from the first episodes that through maintaining the characters' spirit and mentality, and interpreting the novel freely, the film best reaches the consciousness of the contemporary viewer. Maybe even more than history would permit, Nüganen implies that it was an inner political conflict. The film's characters include those who believed that the Soviet Russia and not bourgeois statehood would improve their lives.

The boys' path to manly bravery actually starts with their escape from the battlefield. Their romantic ideals of freedom are gradually shrouded in the grey veil of their comrades' unexpected deaths or disappearance. Names consequently maintains a tactful simplicity that avoids the hopeless outbursts of violence of countless war films. Against that background the schoolboys' reckless bravery and decisiveness become even more meaningful. The film is primarily a glance into the world of the boys, whose idealism made them do something that none of them was actually ready for. Bravery, heroism, resilience all evolve from the simple and even childish wish to become free. Just as in peacetime society, this freedom can be frightening.

The relationship between Henn and Marta, the two main characters, contains an innocent desire, never reaching the complications of the adult world. Compared with Nüganen's other works, the film is straightforward, following its characters with sincere compassion and respect. Each character has a face of his own and a desire for life, still unaffected by battles. In most war films the choice of characters constitutes a dilemma between fulfilling duty and staying alive. For the characters of Names such a differentiation is artificial; they cross the border between duty and will, becoming thus a kind of ethereal heroes.

The plot's romantic undertone considerably eases the title's stony burden. It is first of all a film for people, an attraction for audiences that preserves historical tact. It should wake up local viewers who vanished during the lean times of early 1990s cinema. The last film to achieve this was Their Old Love-letters ten years ago, telling about history and a legendary national figure, the musician Raimond Valgre. The dramatic fate of the popular musician, however, was primarily the story of an artist who fell victim to radical events.

Names is filmed most impressively, alternating panoramas, massive battle-scenes and close-ups of actors. The War of Independence was not fought in trenches and the battle scenes do not captivate with their charge but rather with a realistic sense of winter space. Hardly any tanks and aeroplanes were used, and the armoured train, with a limited range of action, was one of the most dreadful weapons of the war. The almost man-to-man battle situations reflect the same simple and uncomplicated world as do the characters. It was a war between peasants on both sides who had previously used a gun perhaps only to scare birds from their fields.

Since the 1920s film Young Eagles (director Theodor Luts), there has not been a single film about the War of Independence. Names thus brings alive an historical time and space so far tackled only by Soviet films about local revolutionaries. Instead of determined subversive action, the film emphasises romantic motives. Although the boys' military campaign is a self-sacrifice, it is not a ceremonial doing one's duty in the name of a noble idea. Names in Marble is not tragic. Although the boys' destiny can easily be guessed, the boys cannot be subjected to the classical treatment of destiny. They stand outside the tragic, because, after taking their fate into their own hands, death is not an ultimate experience arriving hand-in-hand with mature self-understanding, but rather another path to freedom and ideals.

Names is one of the most expensive Estonian films. The pattern of the characters' relationships resembles that of Spring (director Arvo Kruusement) made thirty years ago. Like Spring, this film also embraces something that is uniquely typical of Estonian culture and promises to become one of the key films of national self-reflection.