There are films that do not begin with a title screen. They begin with a feeling. A quietness. A scent. A strange shift in the weight of the moment that tells youâyouâre no longer here. Youâve crossed into somewhere else.âŚ...
The world I grew up in was not built for dreaming. It was a place of long queues and short tempers, where the winters stretched on like unfinished sentences, and the summers were brief, almost apologetic interruptions of heat andâŚ
There was a time when the world was easier to understand. When the grainy flicker of Soviet cinema could paint the world not as it was, but as it ought to be. And in those darkened halls, amid the scratchyâŚ...