Sasha fights for his classmate's girlfriend. His sister Marina works as a teacher in the daytime and dances on the raves at nights. Their existence in modern Russia seems to be a trap.

A video journey from the Neolithic to the New Stone Age

On December 15, 2024, the collision and sinking of two fuel oil tankers in the Kerch Strait caused one of the most devastating environmental disasters in the history of the Black Sea. Six months later, the tankers lying on the seabed are still leaking fuel oil, and of the thousands of volunteers who initially took part in the cleanup, only a few dozen remain along a 30-kilometer stretch of beach. The film was shot on the Taman Peninsula in early summer 2025, against the backdrop of a formally lifted, yet in reality already underway, beach season. In the face of scarce resources, the departure of their own leaders, and the daily release of fuel oil, the volunteers talk about themselves, rescue animals, combat the ignorance of those around them, and try to find the motivation to continue their fight against a disaster that at times seems endless.

After the war began, memorial plaques bearing the names of victims of repression started being torn down far more often than before. The Last Address project didn’t have the resources to keep up with the vandalism. A group of activists stepped in: they began making temporary cardboard plaques and set out to track down those responsible.

Since 2020 organizers of “Returning the Names” have been repeatedly denied authorization. In Moscow, the main public readings are effectively banned, formally due to lingering COVID-era restrictions. In 2022 Russia’s Supreme Court liquidated the International Memorial, and pressure on the memory movement intensified. With mass gatherings impossible, activists seek legal ways to keep the ritual alive. “Returning the Names” is an annual commemoration in which participants read aloud the names of people executed during the Great Terror. Since 2007, thousands have joined across Russia and abroad on the eve of the Day of Remembrance for Victims of Political Repression. Traditionally Muscovites gathered at the Solovetsky Stone on Lubyanka Square, opposite the security services’ headquarters. Now the readings scatter across the city, during historical walks or in forests at mass graves. With no publicity, amid fear and the risk of prosecution, dozens take part, and their number keeps growing.

From Istanbul, feminist Anastasia Polozkova probes Russia's post-2022 assault on reproductive rights. In calls with activists, doctors and researchers in Russia/exile, Turkish and Kurdish feminists, she asks: ban in law, or in practice?

After the war began, memorial plaques bearing the names of victims of repression started being torn down far more often than before. The Last Address project didn’t have the resources to keep up with the vandalism. A group of activists stepped in: they began making temporary cardboard plaques and set out to track down those responsible.