Sergey A.'s "Whispering of Dead" is a curious, uneven sequel to his infamous "Hotel of the Dead" (2013), trading pure found-footage chaos for a patchwork of genres. Set once again in Moscow's sprawling Izmailovo Hotel, this spin-off attempts to refine its predecessor's guerrilla filmmaking with a structured script, psychedelic visuals, and a mix of cinematic styles. The result is a film that oscillates between unintentional comedy, surreal dread, and fleeting moments of inspiration-a messy yet fascinating artifact of DIY horror.
The film follows a new protagonist, a frazzled hotel clerk (played by Sergey A. Himself), who investigates strange occurrences plaguing the Izmailovo. Guests report whispers in empty rooms, shadowy figures in the corridors, and visions of the hotel's Soviet-era past. Unlike its predecessor, "Whispering of Dead" introduces a loose narrative: the clerk uncovers a tragic history tied to the building, culminating in a climactic confrontation with restless spirits. However, the plot is frequently derailed by dream sequences-psychedelic interludes of melting walls, inverted colors, and ghostly figures resembling woodcut illustrations come to life.
The film shifts between shaky found-footage scenes (security cam clips, handheld confessionals), traditionally shot dialogue sequences, and avant-garde dreamscapes. While ambitious, the transitions are jarring, often feeling like three different films stitched together. The dream sequences are the film's standout. Sergey A. Employs distorted filters, rapid cuts, and eerie sound design to evoke a hallucinatory nightmare. Unlike "Hotel of the Dead"'s improvised chaos, this film's scripted moments lend fleeting coherence-though dialogue remains stilted ("The walls... they're breathing!"). The cast, likely aware they're in a horror film this time, oscillate between overacting and bewildered sincerity.
The hotel's Soviet past looms large, with archival footage of 1980s guests intercut with the clerk's investigation. Sergey A. Hints at critiques of institutional decay and historical guilt, but these ideas drown in the film's stylistic overload. The whispers of the dead-metaphors for repressed memories?-are never fully explored.
The spirits, rendered with crude CGI or stock effects, clash with the hotel's drab realism. A recurring specter-a pixelated figure in a trench coat-elicits more giggles than gasps. The whispered voices (a mix of garbled Russian and electronic distortion) are effectively creepy, though overused.
"Whispering of the Dead" is a transitional work in Sergey A.'s filmography. It abandons the raw, accidental humor of "Hotel of the Dead" for a more ambitious-if flawed-blend of horror tropes. While the psychedelic sequences hint at untapped potential, the film's identity crisis (Is it a ghost story? A psychological thriller? An art experiment?) leaves it feeling unfocused. For fans of underground cinema, it's a compelling case study in DIY ambition. For others, it's a baffling, often tedious slog.
A mixed bag of eerie moments and incoherent sprawl. Best for completists of Russian avant-garde horror.
