Typically Russian approach to filming nature -pantheistically in a way- yet uniquely original fusion of a person's attachment to land, to community to the moderate joys of life. Cyclical, it captures the plenitude of flax and mingles together in beautiful color woman, nature, machine. The grim part II of Sokurov's short is not a hagiography but a tribute to a woman's dignity her passing and perishing in this world.
Any one of us could only hope that a remembrance of our life was compiled in such a humble and honest way. Sokurov allows the countryside and fields to lament; the family and friends to turn their care into time-travel in primitive machines; and we the audience to appreciate a single stalk of flax, a woman, a life. Reminding me of Blake: "Many ages of groans, till there grew Branchy forms organizing the Human."