The image of an alien in Soviet cinema of the 1950s and 1980s from science fiction to philosophical allegory

Shumov Maksim Vladimirovich Associate Professor, Department of Directing and Choreography, Dostoevsky Omsk State University 644043, Russia, Omsk region, Omsk, Krasny Put str., 36 mvshumov@mail.ru Other publications by this author

Introduction

The Soviet cinema of the 1950s and 1980s is a unique cultural space in which artistic searches are intertwined with ideological attitudes, scientific and educational tasks and philosophical reflections on the nature of man, society and the future. A special place in this space is occupied by the genre of science fiction, which has become an arena for experiments with visual language, metaphors of the "other" and understanding the limits of human cognition. One of the central and most expressive images in Soviet fiction is the image of an alien, which has undergone significant changes over the course of several decades — from the figure of a rational ally in progress to the allegorical embodiment of ethical, metaphysical and cultural doubts.

The relevance of this study is determined by the insufficient elaboration of the image of an alien in Soviet cinema within the framework of art criticism discourse. Despite the steady interest in the genre of science fiction, the alien rarely becomes the subject of independent analysis as a culturally significant artistic image. Meanwhile, it performs a narrative or decorative function in Soviet cinema, and also serves as an expressive symbol of the ideological, philosophical and aesthetic transformations of the era. In modern conditions of increased interest in issues of otherness, the boundaries of identity and cultural memory, the study of the image of an alien is of particular importance, contributing to a rethinking of the Soviet visual heritage and clarifying methodological approaches to the analysis of screen forms and genres.

The purpose of this study is to analyze the image of an alien in Soviet cinema in the second half of the 20th century — from the early images of this period, formed under the influence of scientific and educational rhetoric and utopian thinking, to later and complex philosophical allegories expressing the crisis of identity, ideology and faith in progress.

The object of the study is the Soviet science fiction cinema of the 1950s and 1980s. The subject of the research is the representation of the image of an alien in the visual, plot and symbolic structures of this cinema. The relationship between object and subject lies in the fact that science fiction, as a genre with a specific artistic and ideological nature, forms a certain system of ideas about the "other", in which the image of an alien functions as a marker of cultural expectations, fears and aspirations of the era.

At the same time, the study attempts to go beyond the literary-centric paradigm, taking into account the influence of the pre-war tradition of Soviet film fiction, as well as visual, theatrical and foreign cinematic codes, including animation.

The problem of the research lies in the need to identify and comprehend those aesthetic, cultural and philosophical factors that influenced the formation and transformation of the image of an alien in Soviet cinema, as well as in interpreting these changes as a reflection of broader processes in Soviet culture.

The methodological basis of the research is based on:

• A historical and cultural approach that allows us to consider cinema in the context of socio-cultural and ideological processes;
• Semiotic and visual-analytical methods providing interpretation of iconic and symbolic structures forming the image of an alien;
• An intertextual analysis that makes it possible to establish links between cinema and literary fiction (works by Efremov, Strugatsky, Lem, etc.);
• A cultural approach that reveals the archetypal and metaphysical aspects of the image of the "other" in visual art;
• A comparative method that makes it possible to compare different stages and stylistic traditions within a genre.

Such films as "The Sky is Calling" (1959, directed by A. Kozyr, M. Karyukov), "Planet of Storms" (1962, directed by P. Klushantsev), "Solaris" (1972, directed by A. Tarkovsky), "The Silence of Dr. Evans" (1973, directed by B. Metalnikov), the dilogy "Moscow — Cassiopeia" and "Boys in the Universe" (1973-1974, directed by R. Viktorov), "This cheerful planet" (1975, directed by Yu. Saakov, Yu. Tsvetkov), "Stalker" (1979, directed by A. Tarkovsky), the Hotel "At the Deceased Climber"" (1979, directed by G. Kromanov), "Through Thorns to the Stars" (1980, directed by R. Viktorov, "The Secret of the Third Planet" (1981, directed by R. Kachanov), "Star Business Trip" (1982, directed by B. Ivchenko), "Contact" (1985, directed by V. Tarasov), "Kin-dza-dza!" (1986, directed by G. Danelia).

The theoretical and methodological basis for writing this work was the works of domestic researchers M. Yampolsky, M. Kogan, O. Kozhemyako, A. Sinitsyn, I. Zhukov, S. Dobin, E. Ryazantseva, M. Voronin, N. Gromov, I. Kondakov, E. Ulyanova, V. Zhitenev, as well as foreign researchers T. Dobzhansky, S. Lem, R. Lewis, Yu. Tsivian, M. Smith, G. Roberts.

The scientific novelty of the research lies in a comprehensive analysis of the image of an alien in the second half of the 20th century in Soviet cinema, with an emphasis on its artistic transformation: from a character in a utopian project to an allegorical figure of cultural and philosophical reflection. For the first time, the paper provides a systematic comparison of the visual and semantic strategies involved in creating this image in different decades.

The practical significance of the research lies in the fact that its results can be used in teaching courses on the history of cinema, cultural studies, visual studies, as well as in developing screenwriting and directing solutions dealing with the themes of the "other" and science fiction. In addition, the study provides a basis for further work on the analysis of post-Soviet and modern cinema, as well as the visual culture of the "alien" in new media.

Thus, the stated theme allows us to consider not only a separate artistic motif, but also a broader cultural process — the transformation of the image of an alien into a mirror of social transformations, philosophical searches and artistic innovations in the conditions of the specific cultural and ideological climate of the Soviet era.

Soviet science fiction as a genre and artistic phenomenon

Soviet science fiction occupies a special place in the history of Russian cinema, representing a unique phenomenon at the junction of utopian imagination, scientific popularization and ideological modeling of the future. Originated on the basis of literary traditions dating back to the works of Alexander Belyaev, Ivan Efremov, Arkady and Boris Strugatsky, as well as Polish writer Stanislav Lem, science fiction in the USSR transformed into an independent cinematic genre with clearly defined stylistic and philosophical coordinates ^[1].

One of the key features of Soviet fiction is its formation in conditions of strict ideological regulation. Unlike the Western tradition, where fiction often served as a way of artistic criticism of reality or an expression of existential search, in the USSR it performed primarily an educational and educational function. According to the guidelines of cultural policy, the genre of science fiction "was supposed to form a "scientific-materialistic worldview" in the viewer, demonstrate the power of the human mind and the progressiveness of the socialist system" ^[2]. This led to the formation of a special type of fantasy cinema, in which the images of the future and the "alien" were closely linked to the tasks of scientific popularization and communist morality.

Nevertheless, within this ideologically defined space, fiction was not homogeneous. Some researchers (in particular, T. Dobzhansky and A. Sokolov) point to the "excessive utopianism and ideological determination of the genre, believing that it rarely went beyond the "official" rhetoric" ^[3]. However, on the other hand, a number of works emphasize that it is "science fiction that has become a space for subtle artistic reflection, allowing authors to covertly discuss existential and ethical issues, bypassing censorship prohibitions" ^[4]. Thus, genre represents a field of tension between normative function and aesthetic resistance, which requires careful and multi-layered analysis.

The literature of the 1950s and 70s had a significant influence on the formation of Soviet fiction. Ivan Efremov, with his emphasis on communist morality and evolutionary harmony, proposed the image of space as a space of intelligent interaction between civilizations. Arkady and Boris Strugatsky introduced humanitarian and philosophical issues, ethical conflicts, and existential layering into the genre, and their scenarios formed the basis for the transition from a technocratic utopia to a philosophical allegory. Polish writer Stanislav Lem had a powerful influence on Soviet cinema, primarily through the film adaptation of his novel Solaris, in which contact with the other becomes a metaphysical and deeply personal act ^[5].

Soviet fiction in cinema has become a platform for visualizing the future and artistic modeling of images of the "other". Thanks to a combination of special effects, sound design, architectural stylization and motion plasticity, the cinema of this direction has developed an original set of artistic codes: cold, sterile interiors of ships; specific forms of costumes and decorations; abstract sound effects and geometrically constructed frames. These elements provided genre recognition, and also served as a backdrop for expressing ideas of order, progress, harmony, or, conversely, otherness, anxiety, and incomprehensibility.

However, it would be methodologically incorrect to reduce the transformation of Soviet science fiction cinema solely to the influence of literary sources. It is necessary to take into account the visual and communicative mission of cinema as a separate medium, which was influenced by both the traditions of pre-war fiction (in particular, the film "Aelita", 1924, directed by Ya. Protazanov) and samples of foreign cinema — from the humanistic line in American fiction ("The Day when the Earth Stood Still" (eng. "The Day the Earth Stood Still", 1951, directed by R. Wise) before Stanley Kubrick's philosophical visuals. In addition, popular science visual magazines and animation forms, which were actively developed in Soviet culture (for example, the works of Vladimir Tarasov), had a significant influence.

Thus, the film "Aelita" is considered not only the first Soviet science fiction film, but also one of the key cultural precedents that laid the visual, genre and ideological foundation of Soviet film fiction. The constructivist decorations, designed by artists Alexander Vesnin and Isaac Rabinovich, set the aesthetics of the Martian civilization as a "different" space — abstract, geometric, different from the earthly reality. This style became the basis for the subsequent representation of the alien world as an ideological or philosophical projection, rather than just an exotic environment. In this sense, Aelita set a precedent for conventionality and symbolism in the depiction of other planets, which would later develop in Tarkovsky's films or in cartoons like Kontakt. In Aelita, fiction serves not so much as a plot about interplanetary contact, as an allegory of class struggle transferred to the Martian environment. This idea of using the alien as a metaphor for social and political conflict would later return in films such as "Through Thorns to the Stars" or "Kin-dza-dza!"

At the same time, the Hollywood tradition of visual spectacle, active plot and the concept of "contact with the other" found a response in Soviet films, albeit with reinterpretation in the spirit of socialist humanism. So, in "Heaven Calls" and "Planet of Storms" one can see echoes of American space epics, but in them contact with another mind is presented as an ethically colored, enlightening event. Formally, Soviet films were inferior in technology, but they compensated for this with the conceptual saturation and pathos of scientific progress, inspired not only by domestic but also by world culture. In the 1970s and 1980s, the influence of Western cinema was felt more at the level of visual language and philosophical issues. For example, Andrei Tarkovsky's Solaris was created in a controversy with Stanley Kubrick's Space Odyssey, while Tarkovsky opposed American technocracy with an introspective, metaphysical concept of the Other. Later, in "Kin-dza-dza!", the influence of the post-apocalyptic cinema of the West is felt, but with an ironic, grotesque reworking in the spirit of the Russian absurdist tradition. Even in animation, this interaction is noticeable: "Contact", although rooted in Soviet humanism, is visually and rhythmically closer to Western animation culture than, for example, the more "archetypal" "Mystery of the Third Planet". Thus, Soviet fiction, despite ideological barriers, was in constant, albeit not always open, dialogue with foreign cinema, rethinking its images and meanings within the framework of its own artistic objectives.

The prerequisites for the appearance of the image of an alien in Soviet cinema are closely related to the idea of "contact" as the central theme of a fantasy narrative. The alien here is not just a biological being, but an allegory of a different consciousness, a different stage of development, or even a lost ideal of man. In this context, the image of the alien acquires a special cultural significance: it allows us to talk about the boundaries of the human and problematize the very idea of humanity embedded in the Soviet cultural project.

Thus, science fiction in the USSR developed in difficult conditions of a balance between artistic intention and ideological control. Its uniqueness lies in its ability to transform the utopian attitudes of the era into an extensive visual and symbolic system, where the alien becomes not just the hero of a fantastic narrative, but the bearer of philosophical, cultural and aesthetic meanings.

The image of an alien from the era of the "space race": a technocratic and utopian ideal

Soviet cinema in the second half of the 20th century actively responded to the challenges of the time, and this was especially evident during the so-called "space race", when space exploration became a symbol of scientific, ideological and cultural progress. At this historical moment, the image of an alien in the cinema was formed not only as a result of imaginary contact with the "other", but also as a reflection of faith in human intelligence, technocratic power and the possibility of harmonious coexistence with an alien, but potentially friendly being.

In the movie "Heaven is Calling" space appears as a territory of international cooperation and moral choice. Although alien beings are not directly shown in the picture, their potential reality is present — as a kind of hypothetical "higher presence" that humanity aspires to. Visually, this idea is translated through carefully constructed spacecraft decorations, panoramic shots of planetary landscapes, and symbolic montage transitions from Earth to the vast expanses of the universe ^[6]. The film language of the picture emphasizes the progressive vector of human development as a species capable of moral choice and cooperation.

In the "Planet of Storms", the alien space is already receiving a visible embodiment. Although the aliens do not appear directly, the entire visual structure of the film — from the alien landscape of Venus to the anomalies in the atmosphere — creates a sense of the presence of the "other", almost mystical, but not hostile. Klushantsev uses special effects that are innovative for his time: mock-up shooting, combined shots, underwater and infrared photography. These techniques create an aesthetic of scientific verisimilitude in which the "other" does not frighten, but commands respect. Many researchers interpret the visual language of the film as a way of representing the alien as a future human being — strong, exploring, overcoming ^[7].

Towards the middle of the 1970s, the image of an alien began to acquire more metaphorical and humanistic features. In the dilogy "Moscow — Cassiopeia" and "Boys in the Universe", contact with another civilization occurs through the figure of a child, a symbol of the future, purity and potential harmony. The aliens in these films are not exotic, not a threat, but a reflection of the best human qualities, albeit distorted by social systems. Visually, the films are based on the contrast between the strict geometric decorations of an alien world and the lively, mobile plasticity of teenage earthlings as a "new type of person" capable of dialogue and saving others. Here, as A. Sinitsyn emphasizes, the image of an alien becomes a way to talk about a man of the future — highly moral, fearless, open ^[8].

The film "This Funny Planet" is a comedic interpretation of the theme of contact, but it does not lose its humanistic depth. The aliens who happened to be on Earth during the New Year's holiday are presented as the embodiment of scientific curiosity and benevolence. Their visual image — costumes without aggressive elements, soft light, emphasized naivety — correlates with the idea of a "friendly other." The film works with genre codes of satire and musical comedy, turning the image of an alien into a mirror for a person capable of revealing both the absurdity and humanity of earthly behavior.

A special place is occupied by The Mystery of the Third Planet, an animated film that, despite its apparent lightness, contains a rich system of fantastic images. The alien creatures here are diverse — from humanoids to abstract life forms — and are represented as carriers of culture, ethics, and reason. The animated nature of the film made it possible to expand the palette of expressive means: bright color contrasts, expressive deformation of shapes, and editing rhythms. Due to this, contact with alien civilizations takes the form of cultural exchange, emphasizing the universality of humanistic values ^[9].

A number of critical studies have suggested that such an idealized view of the contact and humanity of the "other" is the result of an ideological order that forms a naive utopian model. However, one cannot unconditionally agree with this approach. As the film critic I. Zhukov rightly points out, "the image of an alien in Soviet cinema of the 1960s and 70s is not a primitive illustration of ideology, but a complex metaphor for the ideal Self, onto which the hopes, fears and moral guidelines of the era are projected" ^[10].

Thus, the image of an alien from the era of the "space race" in Soviet cinema appears as a synthesis of technocratic optimism and a humanistic dream. Through visual means, genre specifics and symbolism of the future, it performs the functions of a plot element and an ethical model in which a person can see himself — purified, transformed, capable of dialogue and mutual assistance.

The Image of an Alien in Late Soviet Cinema: from Metaphysics to Philosophical Allegory

Since the 1970s, there has been a gradual shift in the interpretation of the image of an alien in Soviet cinema. Instead of the technocratic and humanistic-utopian ideal typical of previous decades, the "other" now appears as a philosophical category embodying the metaphysical, existential and ideological anxieties of the time. This transition was a reflection of the changing cultural atmosphere, as well as the result of a general crisis of utopian consciousness, increasing reflection and doubts about human abilities to understand and transform reality.

The fundamental starting point in this regard is Andrei Tarkovsky's film Solaris, based on the novel of the same name by Stanislav Lem. Unlike in early fiction, contact with an alien mind is impossible and deeply traumatic here. The ocean of the planet Solaris does not enter into a dialogue, it is a mirror that returns to a person not answers, but his inner fears, feelings of guilt, and unhealed memories. The image of the alien here loses its materiality and becomes a pure metaphor: conscience, God, the unconscious. The visual language of the film supports this feeling — in a slow rhythm, in drawn-out panoramas, in the dim, diffused light of the station interiors. The alien space turns out to be not external, but internal — "this is an anthropological and ontological drama in which a person finds no support either in science or in morality" ^[5].

"The Silence of Dr. Evans" also uses an alien image as a way of reflecting on humanity. Visual techniques: framing through glass, mirrors, and a sudden change of plans — visualize the inner duality of the main character. The alien here is not "external", but embedded in human consciousness, as if the "alien inside" is a theme consonant with late modernism. The color palette is based on muted shades and mosaic light spots, creating an allusion to the split perception of reality.

In the film "The Dead Climber's Hotel", the director's strategy is based on extreme visual ambiguity: the shots are obscured by fog, the architecture of the hotel space is dully hostile and absurd, and lighting solutions (contrast of daylight and artificial lighting, mirroring) create an atmosphere of unreality. Alien characters are visually almost indistinguishable from humans, which serves as a powerful metaphor — otherness becomes not an external, but an internal quality. Contact as such is impossible, not because there is no language, but because there is no trust. The editing is slow, the sound design accentuates the disturbing intonations of silence, broken by brief sounds, which brings this film closer to Tarkovsky's metaphysical cinema.

In "Stalker", Tarkovsky's next philosophical work, the "other" is completely devoid of physicality. A zone is a potential presence, a space saturated with an unknown force. There are no aliens here in the usual sense, but the whole film is built around the experience of encountering the transcendent. The image of a "wish-fulfilling room" can be interpreted as a mechanism generated by an unearthly mind, but also as an allegory of the deepest layers of human existence. Light, darkness, sonic emptiness, slow-motion editing, and abandoned architecture form a visual language of fear, silence, and ultimate reflection. Film critic S. Dobin rightly calls Stalker "a film not about the Zone, but about what it does to a person" ^[11]. Thus, the "other" here becomes a laboratory of ethical and spiritual analysis, without the possibility of explaining its nature rationally.

Similar motifs—but in a more outwardly traditional sci-fi form—manifest themselves in "Through Thorns to the Stars." The alien Niya, who looks like a human, turns out to be a creature with a different level of perception and empathy. However, it is she who becomes a mirror of the crises of human civilization — ecological, moral, ideological. Her inner duality, doubts, and painful adaptation to earthly culture metaphorically reflect the trauma of contact with a stranger, as well as a rethinking of her own identity. The film is based on the genre aesthetics of the "space opera", but at the same time it is saturated with artistic codes of anxiety: restrained color palettes, the metallic chill of ships, deliberately slow-motion mise en scene. The alien here is no longer a scientist or a messenger of peace, but a victim of cultural conflict, carrying ambivalence — at the same time a bearer of hope and a reminder of disaster ^[12].

The film "Star Business Trip", at first glance perceived as a light satirical comedy, occupies an important place among the cinematic works of the late Soviet period, in which the image of an alien acquires a philosophical and allegorical dimension. An alien visitor who arrives on Earth to observe human behavior actually performs the function of an external conscience — a detached but attentive gaze capable of revealing the absurdity and moral instability of everyday reality. Here, the "other" does not come into contact as an equal interlocutor or ally, but observes, provoking an internal crisis: a person's recognition of himself in the light of an outsider, inhuman gaze. In this film, one can see a roll call with "Kin-dza-dza!", where irony becomes a form of philosophical doubt, and satire becomes a way to talk about the moral disorientation of society. Stylistically, the painting is solved by means of everyday realism with elements of the grotesque. The simple visual palette, close to the aesthetics of television, emphasizes the grayness and mediocrity of the world into which the alien finds himself. The director deliberately focuses on typical Soviet scenery — queues, wall newspapers, unproductive conversations — creating the effect of documentary absurdity. This seemingly featureless visual becomes expressive precisely due to the contrast with the otherness of the alien observer. Thus, "Star Trek" continues the line of late Soviet philosophical fiction, in which the image of an alien is not just a figure of another, but a moral category, the embodiment of the distance necessary for self—reflection.

In The Visitor from the Future, the alien motif takes the form of a fantastic children's allegory, but retains its depth. Alisa Selezneva, despite her earthly origin, in the context of the time shift and alien beings (the great galactic races, Werther the robot, pirates from the planet Shelezyak) represents the archetype of the "other", perceived by the eyes of the modern viewer as a moral guideline. She is endowed with superhuman traits: empathy, intuition, and the ability to interact conflict-free. However, as A. Kaganov notes, "Alice is not just a child of the future, but a reminder that we could be different if we gave up the fear of the "other" ^[13]. The image of the alien and foreign cultural in the film does not cause alarm — it is normalized, embedded in the structure of everyday life, but at the same time retains the shade of a lost dream.

The cartoon "Kontakt" is a unique example of late Soviet animated fiction, in which the alien acts as a philosophical allegory of the "other" — a different being, a different language, a different perception of the world. Despite the minimalism of the plot and the complete absence of words, the film offers a rich metaphorical model of contact, in which non-verbal, sensual, and emotional mutual understanding between representatives of different worlds becomes key. This encounter with the "Other" is not based on conflict or ideological propaganda, as in the early examples of the genre, but on trust, openness and empathy. In this way, the cartoon symbolically overcomes barriers between cultures, creatures, and even civilizations, offering a humanistic view of the possibilities of understanding and acceptance. From a visual point of view, "Kontakt" departs from the aesthetics familiar to Soviet animation — unlike, for example, the vivid, detail-rich and narrative cartoon "The Secret of the Third Planet", a poetic, graphically concise style dominates here, enhanced by smooth animation and carefully constructed plasticity of movement. The alien is depicted not as a carrier of technology, but as a carrier of a different sensitivity — flexible, fluid, emotionally expressive. His appearance does not disrupt the artist's world, but complements and enriches it. Thus, "Contact" can be seen as a philosophical allegory about vulnerability and the beauty of true understanding, where a foreigner is not a threat, but an opportunity for mutual spiritual growth. This film reflects the tendency of late Soviet fiction towards subtle, existential reflections on otherness, continuing the lines set by Solaris and Stalker, but expressing them through a different visual—musical language.

The most radical and bitter interpretation of the alien is "Kin-dza-dza!" — a dystopian parable in which contact with another civilization leads not to enlightenment, but to alienation and the decomposition of humanistic values. Pluck is a perverted reflection of Earth, and the aliens here are not "others", but us, driven to the point of absurdity. Visually, the film is built on austerity and irony: dirty landscapes, monochrome, chaotic camera movement, deliberately cheap special effects. All this creates an aesthetic of dehumanization, in which the alien is not "there" but "here". The image of an alien ceases to be "different" in the classical sense and becomes a reflection of internal decay. As researcher M. Voronin emphasizes, "the alien Pluck is an allegory of the end of a utopian project, expressed through the language of irony and the grotesque" ^[14].

Some critics argue that late Soviet fiction, having abandoned the positive image of the "other," has lost its idealistic potential. However, one cannot agree with this view. As the analysis shows, it is through metaphysics, psychologization and allegory that the image of an alien has become a way of deep self-knowledge, a way to talk about issues that cannot be expressed directly. In this sense, late Soviet cinema did not move away from humanism, but transformed into the field of reflection, which is not a weakness, but a maturity of artistic expression.

The Alien as a Cultural symptom: Between Dream, Fear and Irony

The figure of an alien in Soviet cinema was transformed within the framework of the genre logic of science fiction and went from a naive technocratic ideal to a deep philosophical symbol. This transformation reflects not so much the development of the aesthetics of fiction as changes in the cultural and ideological sensitivity of society. In Soviet cinema, the image of an alien became a moving sign, a "marker of otherness," through which utopian projects, fear of the unknown, a crisis of humanism, and ironic alienation were articulated.

In the cinema of the 1950s and 60s ("Heaven is Calling", "Planet of Storms"), an alien is either absent as a character, or is thought of as a potential Friend — a being waiting to meet a human. Even in the absence of a specific visual image, the presence of the "other" is discernible in the landscape of alien planets, in the architecture of starships, in the discourse of discoveries. It was a time when contact with the alien world was perceived as a natural continuation of the communist idea of striving for unity, solidarity, and progress ^[15]. In this context, the alien becomes a mirror of the man of the future, cleansed of the private, selfish and national. His appearance is often idealized, and his visual language is light, clean, and mechanically smooth. This is a reflection of an optimistic myth about the world to come.

However, already in the 1970s, this image was transformed. In the films "Moscow — Cassiopeia" and "This Funny Planet," the alien can still be friendly, but a touch of irony and distance appears in him: he becomes a comedic-type character, or a disembodied force in need of interpretation. The appearance of children's alien animation in The Mystery of the Third Planet sets a soft, grotesquely fantastic visual sequence in which otherness is normalized. L. Romanchuk and V. Dyabina note: "Being essentially a mirror of the magical public consciousness, cinema reflects the most diverse assessments and representations of extraterrestrials and their mission on Earth" ^[16]. Thus, ambivalence is consolidated during this period: the alien is no longer just a Friend, but also an object of observation, admiration, and sometimes perplexity. His image ceases to be an instrument of utopia and becomes a flexible form of cultural experiment.

The turnaround took place in the 1970s and 80s, with the appearance of philosophical and metaphorical interpretations of the other in the films "Solaris", "Stalker", "Through thorns to the stars", "Kin-dza-dza!". Now the alien is not a physical subject, but an allegorical construction, often incomprehensible. As I. V. Kondakov rightly notes, "the other becomes not an answer, but a question, not a hero, but an absurdity" ^[17]. Visually, this is expressed through blurred contours, monochrome palette, architecture of destruction, slow-motion installation and the use of emptiness as an artistic device. Light and darkness, noise and silence, technological brilliance and desolation — all this forms the image of the alien as a psychological and metaphysical environment into which the viewer immerses himself as into his own subconscious ^[18].

Appealing to critics who claim that such interpretations destroy the fantasy genre and detach it from the viewer, it is worth noting that it was the departure from the straightforward depiction of an alien that allowed Soviet cinema to reach the level of universal philosophical generalizations. "Stalker" does not show aliens, but it is their invisible presence that transforms reality — just as in "Solaris" "contact" turns out to be impossible. This is not a rejection of fiction, but its introspective evolution ^[19].

Along with the recognized classics of late Soviet fiction, which traditionally include Solaris or Stalker, films such as The Lost Climber Hotel (1979), The Silence of Dr. Evans (1973), Kontakt (1985) and others become an important addition to the picture of the cultural functioning of the alien image. "Starry Business Trip" (1982). In each of them, the alien appears not as an object of aspiration or utopia, but as a symbol of anxiety, the limits of understanding, or criticism of human limitations.

In the final phase of the late Soviet period, the image of an alien becomes a critical tool for analyzing the Soviet project itself.

Thus, the visual sophistication of "Kontakt" and its gentle humanism contrast sharply with the more grotesque, absurd aesthetics of "Star Business Trip," emphasizing the polyphony of the late Soviet image of the "other." These films expand the field of interpretation, emphasizing that the alien is no longer just "different," but a multi-valued cultural symptom that allows us to express the ambivalent experiences of the era.

In The Guest from the Future, contact with the other is presented as a utopian norm — but it is precisely her ideality that exposes the impossibility of such a future. In Kin-dza-dza!, the aliens are not "them", but "us" in a hyperbolized, post-utopian version: absurd, subject to rituals, devoid of values. Thus, otherness becomes a satire on one's own civilization, a way of talking about the failure of ideals through the grotesque ^[20].

It is in this multilevelness that the peculiarity of the Soviet alien manifests itself — he is not so much a character as a symptom of the era. It shows how we want to see something else and how we are afraid to be. He can be a guide to dreams, a reminder of tragedy, a mirror of irony. And most importantly, it is always embodied in a visual language, in the means by which Soviet cinema was able, despite ideological limitations, to create spaces of the "other": someone else's light, other people's silhouettes, other people's views. This is the art of the "other" — not literal, but deep, existing on the border between the visible and the imaginary ^[21].

Conclusion

The image of an alien in Soviet cinema of the second half of the 20th century is a complex and multi-layered phenomenon, transforming from a technocratic ideal and humanistic utopia to a philosophical allegory, metaphysics of otherness and ironic deconstruction. He successively went through the stages of admiration, reflection and doubt, reflecting profound changes in the cultural, ideological and aesthetic structure of Soviet society. As a result of the analysis, it can be concluded that an alien in Soviet cinema is not just a character in a fantasy genre, but an expressive artistic tool that allows us to talk about a person, the future, ideology and the boundaries of human cognition.

The transformation of the image can be traced from the early stage of the period under study — when the "other" embodied the dream of friendship, contact and joint construction of the future ("Heaven is calling", "Planet of Storms") — to more mature forms of representation, where an alien being or space becomes a metaphor for inner peace, conscience, fear, God or emptiness ("Solaris", "Stalker", "Kin-dza-dza!"). This transformation is largely due to the paradigm shift of the Soviet project itself: from optimism and mobilization rhetoric to doubt, irony and internal crisis.

The artistic means used in Soviet fiction play a key role in shaping and transforming the image of an alien. Light and dark, architecture and landscape, costume and makeup, installation and sound — all these elements become expressions of the "other", allow the viewer to see and feel the otherness. Visual language is especially significant: it contains aesthetic and philosophical meaning. Under conditions of limited budget, ideological control, and technical constraints, Soviet filmmakers created a distinctive visual culture of science fiction, where images of an alien world serve as metaphors for both utopia and tragedy.

The expansion of the corpus of analyzed films through such films as "The Silence of Dr. Evans", "The Hotel at the Dead Climber", "Star Business Trip" and "Contact" allowed us to identify additional facets of the representation of the alien, ranging from the allegory of the crisis of humanism to a playful interpretation of otherness. This highlights the artistic complexity, conceptual layering, and cultural significance of the alien image in Late Soviet cinema as an important symptom of the transformation of the era's worldview.

The significance of the image of an alien in Soviet culture goes far beyond cinema. It becomes a sign of the collective imaginary, a way to articulate ideas about the future, progress, ethics, and the limits of humanity. Through contact with the other, Soviet society conceptualized its own values, fears, and hopes. This image has influenced popular culture, children's perception of the world, popular science rhetoric, and even architectural and design aesthetics.

The prospects for further research include studying the post—Soviet transformation of the alien image, in particular, its commercialization, hypertrophy and secondary irony in the context of global culture. In addition, the visual culture of the "alien" in modern Russia deserves attention — from TV series and computer games to Internet memes, in which the figure of the "other" acquires new, sometimes parodic or critical functions. No less relevant are comparative studies that reveal the peculiarities of the representation of aliens in Soviet and Western fiction, where accents, images and ethical messages can differ radically.

Thus, the image of an alien in Soviet cinema of the 1950s and 1980s is a reflection of the genre traditions and ideological attitudes of the era, as well as a universal cultural code that combines a scientific dream, philosophical depth and artistic innovation.