This is a film I wish I saw in pefect darkness. It seems unfair that light should fall on anything else than screen, all the rest vexing like a parasite. Such films cry for an exclusive rapport, you and its glisten, you and the bioluminiscent bodies of light-perforated, dazzling cinematic Scherenschnitte. Asya’s story has the tangible warmth of a b/w Muratova film, but finds its way differently to the door of heart.
this is really something. he moves away from his work with tarkovsky to something completly different, so realistic, that it was banned and censored. the characters are heartbreaking, and the decision of asya's not to marry is a clear call for independence under the soviet regime. brilliantly scripted, and visually bleak to withold, this is a true testament of village culture under in the USSR.