Directing
A Russian girl, a Kurdish father. The father lives in Syria, in a town near the Turkish border. The girl joins him to meet her new family and... to find her lost roots. Everything moves forward in fragments, of time and of space. It is not only an aesthetic choice. It is a form consistent with the state of war, with the fragility of existences, with the capturing of reality by the body and by the spirit. But everything moves forward, in its way, carried along by a painful energy that obstinately perforates the borders.
Based on the Armenian ‘Sharakan’, a nine-part song that brings us gradually closer to meaning, Maria Saakyan’s new film further develops the poetic invention apparent in her first feature, The Lighthouse. Focusing on the world of a 14-year-old girl, Evridika, who is experiencing the first extremes of adolescent emotion, it makes effective and imaginative use of her private world centred on internet chat rooms and mobile phone recordings.
Nadira 21, and all that she has is a body. Her body. The body seduces, the body works, the body earns. The body lives beautifully. But does Nadir live? Who will win: is she her body or vice versa?
The main character of the film, Alexander Strizhenova, became famous in talk shows and tabloid media as the daughter of a Soviet actress, Natalya Strizhenova, who grew up without a father - but this is not mentioned in the film by Rastorguev. Sasha, beaten by life, when we meet her, lives in a cluttered and untidy village house somewhere in the Moscow Region with her husband, with whom they swear dirtyly in the presence of their young son Ilya. Sasha smokes, drinks and endlessly suffers from a lack of love and from the fact that no one can understand it. Three years later, the viewer again sees her life - in another place, with another man and with a new child, but in about the same circumstances.
Carpathian forest under the snow. Silence. Red horses approach. A sculpture of a Soviet pioneer buried in the snow. A feminine hand rests on the frozen ground. A tear. Where do the red horses gallop? The film is structured like a collage from a personal archive, like an origami of pain.
