During the Soviet-Afghan War, in the days when general secretary of the Communist Party Leonid Breznev, in a military hospital a young lieutenant wounded almost to death meets a young military nurse, tired almost to death. One meeting. One night. One candle. A short from Vladimir Koptsev, Alexander Sokurov’s pupil.

The elder brother watches his younger sibling growing up.

Somewhere among the panel high-rise buildings the author met a strange boy – Mitya Elizarov. Why did they meet, what did it lead to, and was it for real?

Somewhere among the panel high-rise buildings the author met a strange boy – Mitya Elizarov. Why did they meet, what did it lead to, and was it for real?

A documentary comedy about a father, a son and a large family living in a Russian village in the middle of nowhere.

A documentary comedy about a father, a son and a large family living in a Russian village in the middle of nowhere.

The first Chechen war broke Russia in the mid-nineties. The war was lost, the country and the army was damaged. The recovery turned out to be incredibly difficult. Former soldiers - veterans of the famous "Wild Brigade" - cope with this trauma as best they can. For example, with their own hands and at their own expense, they decide to build a monument to fallen comrades at the gates of their long-abandoned military unit. Over and over again, they remind themselves of what they have experienced, not understanding how to break out of this vicious circle of war memories that still determine their whole life. A vicious circle in which not only a person can get lost, but the whole country can get lost by repeating the history and unleashing senseless wars.

A dancer in a static pose on the screen. Is there movement? It seems not. But the film of the movie camera is moving, filming the dancer. Electrons are running, pixels of the digital matrix are changing. Does this mean that movement is happening? The dancer's body comes to life within the frame set by the cameraman. How does this frame and the dancer's choreography interact? Should the frame obey the laws of choreography or exist in counterpoint with it? Or, perhaps, should it freeze, allowing the dancer to create his own pattern within the frame? The dancer makes his body move according to the laws of choreography. But at the same time, his nature determines how the body will exist within this choreography. After all, nature created the plasticity of the body outside of choreographies and directorial tasks. So what is more interesting to watch? What is the real beauty - in an artificial, memorized choreographic movement or in a natural, random gesture?

Nobody knows what's waiting for us around the corner. On the last day of her 13th birthday, following a rabbit into a St. Petersburg gateway by a strange attraction, Alice suddenly finds herself in a mysterious forest. A place where everything is the other way around. To the wild sounds of a piano, which is driven along country roads on a tractor, Alice meets a wild company that, instead of St. Valentine's Day, celebrates the feast of St. Tryphon the Mouser, unable to leave the festive table from winter to summer because of the curse of the Elder, who punished them for "blasphemy." Helping to solve this problem, Alice receives a motorcycle as a gift - both a dream and a means of transportation - and sets off on a journey. Where will it lead her? What awaits her, a lonely and strong girl? And most importantly, why did she tag along with the white rabbit? Who are her parents? And who is she really...

A dancer in a static pose on the screen. Is there movement? It seems not. But the film of the movie camera is moving, filming the dancer. Electrons are running, pixels of the digital matrix are changing. Does this mean that movement is happening? The dancer's body comes to life within the frame set by the cameraman. How does this frame and the dancer's choreography interact? Should the frame obey the laws of choreography or exist in counterpoint with it? Or, perhaps, should it freeze, allowing the dancer to create his own pattern within the frame? The dancer makes his body move according to the laws of choreography. But at the same time, his nature determines how the body will exist within this choreography. After all, nature created the plasticity of the body outside of choreographies and directorial tasks. So what is more interesting to watch? What is the real beauty - in an artificial, memorized choreographic movement or in a natural, random gesture?