Pyl

This is a very interesting film about the 1990s Russia and the miserable life of a small ordinary guy in it. It continues the theme of the "small man" in Russian literature (Dostoyevsky's "Poor people"/"Бедные люди", Checkov's Akaky Akaievich) as well as in movies ("Chuchelo", "Small Vera"/"Маленькая Вера"). The main character is not only unattractive, poor, unintelligent and weak. In some social state like Germany or Sweden he would probably just live a small quiet life without much to talk about. However, in the harsh realities of the planned->market economy transition and the rise of crime in the Russia's 90s, he is also constantly abused by everyone around him. His grandmother dominates him and forces him to eat as if he were a 3 year old, controls his every step and picks clothes for him to wear; random punks on the street insult him for no reason and punch him in the belly; even the state, represented by KGB officers, uses him for an experiment without payment and even explaining the possible dangers of the experiment, and then threatens to put him in jail for the attempts to find out the truth. This movie is a sad portrayal of the less pleasant things "small people" face in their ordinary lives, especially in less stable societies. A good watch for psychologists btw. I'm giving the movie 8/10 and not 10/10 because of the shaky camera (the whole movie must have been shot with a hand camera) and the muffled sound (did they even work on the sound? Seem like they've just recorded it with that very hand camera and that's it).

For better or worse, Dust embodies the essence of post-90s Russia. It overly overindulges with said mood. Almost exults in it, to the extent that this tone becomes the film's only noteworthy feature. That atmosphere is indeed impeccable, capturing the uncertainty of the times alongside an unyielding delirium that suggests nothing really changed or that it will ever get better.

Unfortunately, the purpose for which the movie uses this atmosphere is inherently tricky to appreciate. The story boldly proclaims that we are just stupid apes on a rock in space, or I guess in this case, specs of dust, that are trapped in governmental apparatus. Small people are not allowed to have their dreams or hopes. However, all of that, in contrast, is a moot point for our protagonist. Who does not care that this mirror body isn't real or that he may disintegrate if he enters the booth too many times. In the end, the narrative presents a quirky existential dread that does little more than flail violently in its smug proclamation of how pointless this existence is. Let me delineate real quick - this existence, in this country, at this time. Trust me, if the makers were situated in any other nation, they would be singing a different tune.

The acting in this movie has that virtuoso, unnatural, ethereal quality, where each character seems to act as a spoof of various types of individuals one might encounter in 2000s Russia. Everyone exhibits a rough, disheveled appearance. It's practically comical that the movie implies that the main character is only 24 years old.

The sound design does the heavy lifting in terms of making scenes feel uncanny. Constant unnerving blaring and squeaky sounds make every scene equivalent to some lucid nightmare. Additionally, the use of fisheye close-ups enhances this disorienting effect.

It may be difficult to relate to anything depicted in the story, but I think even for people who lived through it, finding relatability in Alexei's bleak quest for a semblance of control in his life can be perplexing.

This sci-fi take on present-day Russia was made on a shoe-string budget by a group of video and performance artists SVOI 2000, known for their situationist antics. After its release, it didn't take long to send ripples of enthusiastic talk throughout the Russian alternative scene. The cast consists almost entirely of little-known but talented and well-placed actors, the big exception being Pyotr Mamonov, lead singer of the legendary band Zvuki Mu and one of the major Russian counter-culture icons of the past two decades, who brilliantly plays a sullen and mysterious professor involved in secret scientific research conducted by the FSB (post-Soviet KGB).

The main character (the term "protagonist" doesn't quite fit), Alyosha, a toy-factory worker who lives under the supervision of his grandmother, is recruited as a subject in the research, and this brief experience sends his dreary, sedate life into turmoil. A chase ensues as Alyosha finds himself wandering around Moscow in pursuit of a fleeting glimpse of something that he is unable and unwilling to let go, while the FSB staff, annoyed at this unforeseen complication, chase him.

This trippy, dark, existential, confrontational and quintessentially Russian gem combines hilarious and mind-cringing characters and situations with surrealist dream and hallucinatory sequences, and is thickly layered with cultural and social references of varying depth and subtlety. It is greatly enhanced by a masterful score of experimental electronic music.

A must for anybody interested in the contemporary Russian underground cinema.