And on weekdays it rains, and on holidays it rains. This is how an outcast soul without a body sees the world before leaving it forever. This is the first thing that came to mind when I saw, as if at a distance, faceless twilight cityscapes, and in the background – faceless, that is, devoid of faces, people and heard words and fragments of phrases that are not connected into a coherent speech. However, the film is probably not about that, and there is no obvious mysticism here. What is it?
Portrait of the soul of a metropolis, gradually depriving its inhabitants of sight and hearing, because they do not see or hear each other. In the film, we find ourselves on the outskirts of Moscow, “in a big village, in a strange village,” as the folk song goes. Indeed, Moscow, despite the destruction of its villages, despite the fact that most of its inhabitants, though not hereditary Muscovites, but definitely hereditary citizens, did not cease to be a large village, at least on the outskirts. Very close to noisy highways, life outwardly flows calmly and leisurely, and nature approaches the very walls of panel houses. However, there is no rural idyll here. And nature, and the approaching semi-desert uninhabited city is a source of hidden danger, and from time to time the depositor appears is only a hint of the abyss of evil lurking behind the everyday life of the metropolis.
It is not obvious to everyone that Moscow is a city on water, or rather, on a swamp. Meanwhile, it is. Rivers, rivers, elders, ducts, streams, ponds determined the appearance of ancient Moscow. Now most of them are buried or sharpened in collectors, but they exist not only in toponymy. They live their own lives, open and secret, being a familiar part of the landscape for many residents of the Moscow suburbs. Water is one of the central images of the film. Perhaps this is a reminder of the swamp that sucks everything and everything into itself, on which our city stands, perhaps a symbol of oblivion, to which, along with the loss of sense organs, its inhabitants are doomed. Noisy water pipes, murmuring muddy stream in the forest park, in the surface of the pond reflect high-rise buildings, and there is endless rain ... As the saying goes, “It rains on weekdays and rains on holidays.”