Sergey (Tom Prior) is counting down the days to the end of his military service and starting his dream of becoming an actor.  His best friend, Luisa (Diana Pozharskaya), the secretary to the base commander, is wary of his ambitions but remains supportive.  Their relationship is turned on its head when a new fighter pilot, Roman (Oleg Zagorodnii) starts his term at the base.  Soon after his arrival, a scandalous love triangle forms between the three, but with homosexuality still illegal and the threat of the KGB looming over Sergey and Roman, the two need to keep their attraction a secret for their own safety. 

Firebird is directed by Peeter Rebane with a script he co-wrote with Prior based on the memoir by Sergey Fetisov.  The period romance boasts a very committed production design steeped in a nostalgic color palette which helps elevate it above many similar films in the genre that share the same essential plot developments.  At times, the greys and dull greens do kind of blur together, but it adds to the monotony of not only military air force bases but also of the Soviet Union.  The script does not always trust the audience to grasp the gravity of the situation and can be a little obtuse when it wants to show the dangers of being openly gay in Russia during the Cold War.  A little more subtlety in the handling of these themes would have turned this very solid film into something truly great.    

The acting from the leading trio – who are all just impossibly beautiful – is all very competent and they handle the heavy material with the weight and respect that is needed.  The camera lingers on their faces and much of the acting is done through the eyes, especially true for Sergey.  The first half of the film follows standard territory as Sergey and Roman begin to come together sharing some longing glances, clandestine kisses, and the shared fear of every footstep heard from the other side of closed doors.  The two men do bring a lot of passion to the screen, and the moments where they are together do feel freeing for them.  Their chemistry is not strictly based on their intimacy because there are tender moments where they bond over a shared interest in photography.  After a malfunction during one of Roman’s flights, any doubt that their relationship was purely sexual is erased and cements their love for one another.  The incident and what it reveals sets the stage for the conflicts of the second half of the film which is where the narrative really begins to thrive as it deals with the personal toll the love triangle has on the three involved. 

Its handling of the twisted relationships is one of the script’s strongest aspects as it recognizes that the three of them are all in unwinnable situations.  It does not place the blame on any one party or make anyone out to be the villain of the film.  The problem that arises is that it does not fully lean into the threat of the KGB or the antiquated societal viewpoint safe for a few passing moments in a short-lived and unexplored subplot.  Without the expansion of that plot, the film sometimes does feel like it is treading water and it is stretched thin across the 107-minute runtime. 

While Firebird certainly is not reinventing the genre, it is refreshing to see an LGBTQ film with such great production value attached to it.  The glossy images are enough to get one wrapped up in the story, that admittedly could have benefited from more precise writing.  It is a great companion piece with Netflix’s Dance of the 41 (2021) which also dissects the moral ambiguity of following your heart or wearing the masks required of you by society.  Firebird is a solid effort by all involved, and while it may stumble at times, this is a warts and all tale that tells an important story without getting so wrapped up in self-congratulations for highlighting the injustices of the past through a modern lens.