A city that I no longer want to live in. It is very interesting to learn how foreigners see my hometown, which seems wild even for their own, Russians – life near the Arctic, with a polar night or a polar day, gas attacks from factories, “black” burgas, snowdrifts on the first floor, space prices, etc. Most of those who came to Norilsk before, still preferred to talk about factories, ethnography or the nature of Putorana, but not everyone managed to immerse themselves in the life of the “nickel” capital. And, fortunately, in addition to the usual post-apocalyptic entourage, foreign guests this time found the very humanity that only strengthens in harsh conditions and for which Norilsk is loved by almost all those who moved from it, even after many years.
The young Canadian director François Jacob, behind whom only a few game shorts, came to Norilsk twice - the first time to assess the stop and collect primary material, and the second - a year later, with a grant won and his small team to complete the work.
François has long wanted to shoot something about life near the Arctic, but somehow was not inspired by cozy Canadian villages, decided to find something more significant and his choice was slightly odious. Nevertheless, the director and his team not only filmed all the drama inherent in the city, but also told it not the most rosy story and conducted a two-hour tour - from youth insignia to factories. At some point, it may seem that the film is simply frantically hopeless, but if you take in your hands and want to look at the honey of the lines (or between frames), you can see the very stamina that in the eyes of a stranger can only be expressed by bulging eyes, raised to the sky with hands and a long “Kaaaak do you live there?”. That's how we live. Live. Resilience bordering on despair.
As a (former) Norilskian, it seems silly to me to explain that it is necessary to leave Norilsk, there are no salaries, there are no prospects, too, and the young go to St. Petersburg. But then you have to catch yourself thinking that this is my usual thinking, but the average viewer is unlikely to understand the things that you discover when you first got into the seventh grade in St. Petersburg. It is certainly nice to see the many familiar faces and names that were in the frame or participated in the shooting. I am glad that people of both working and creative professions are taken as heroes. Perhaps, from the point of view of aesthetic terrorism or my own preferences, I would prefer to replace some heroes with more pleasant analogues (for example, a strange poetic talent), but, nevertheless, it was not I who went from Canada to the polar Kukuevo, but Monsieur Jacob, for which he is honored, praise and respect for his choice.
Evaluating the film more or less impartially, but still as an expert on what is happening, I can say that although I did not get imbued with the “lunar” metaphor, it is still a very good work. Both technically and narratively. There are no technical approaches like the British video “The Last Day of Sunlight in Norilsk”, which was released at the same time as the film by Jacob and with the same mood, but in this case it makes the film more human and lively, with more tangible pain points. Yes, hopelessness is somehow completely embellished, after all, the city is trying to do something, to open and launch something, although that sin is concealed, longing is only growing.
In conclusion, I will say that the film to some extent draws a line where it seemed difficult for me personally and many of my Norilsk friends of the same age to formulate - we have preserved the warmest memories and sometimes it seems that we just need to come back and everything will return to normal, but the beautiful Alexander Kharitonov said very correctly:
I can hardly be called a patriot of the city, because I understand that in this city much is not done for the people of Norilsk. And over the past 25 years, it has been erased from the consciousness that it is possible to live here, that it is possible to feel rooted [over the last 10 years of my life there, this feeling grew exponentially]. Somewhere deep down, despite all my love for the city, despite the desire to preserve its history, it is certainly impossible to live in such conditions, in very uninhabitable conditions - I understand all this. Norilsk is no longer a city to live in.
8 out of 10