The film follows a nameless protagonist (played by Sergey A.) wandering through Vyborg's fog-shrouded streets and decaying Soviet-era architecture. His journey intertwines with fragmented visions of folklore-inspired creatures, including a spectral entity reminiscent of Slavic nav (spirits of the dead). The narrative eschews dialogue, relying instead on visual metaphors: crumbling buildings mirror the protagonist's psyche, while recurring motifs like broken clocks and wilted flowers symbolize entropy and lost time.
The title Apokrif (Apocrypha) hints at hidden truths and rejected narratives, reflecting Sergey A.'s fascination with marginalized myths. The film's climax-a surreal encounter with a shadowy figure in Vyborg's abandoned library-suggests a confrontation with suppressed memories or cultural amnesia.
Sergey A. Employs stark contrasts between Vyborg's Gothic spires and Soviet brutalist blocks. Long takes of empty streets and close-ups of weathered textures create a hypnotic, almost archaeological gaze. T
Natural light filters through broken windows, casting elongated shadows that morph into spectral forms. Night scenes are bathed in sickly green hues, evoking a sense of otherworldly decay.
Kevin MacLeod's minimalist score-a mix of droning strings and dissonant piano notes-amplifies the unease. Ambient sounds (wind whistling through ruins, distant church bells) blur the line between reality and hallucination.
Sergey A.'s portrayal of the protagonist is deliberately mechanical, his movements echoing Tarkovsky's Stalker. The lack of dialogue forces viewers to project their interpretations onto his blank expressions, making the film a Rorschach test for existential angst. Themes of cultural erasure resonate strongly, particularly in scenes where the protagonist interacts with Vyborg's half-demolished landmarks-a metaphor for post-Soviet identity crises.
While Apokrif has yet to achieve the cult status of Sergey A.'s Jaws 19 or Nettle, it has garnered niche acclaim for its audacious formalism. Critics praise its "hypnotic bleakness" but criticize its pacing as "deliberately alienating". On YouTube, the film has sparked debates about its cryptic ending, with some fans theorizing connections to Vyborg's real-world decline as a border town.
Apokrif is not for everyone. Its glacial pace and abstract symbolism will test mainstream viewers, but for admirers of avant-garde cinema, it offers a haunting meditation on decay-both personal and cultural. Sergey A. Continues to prove that constraints (budget, location, crew size) can fuel creativity rather than stifle it.
