Chyornaya kozha: A curious look back

Is it worth your time?

If you have a soft spot for historical curiosities or silent-era propaganda that wears its heart on its sleeve, you’ll dig this. If you need tight pacing and realistic dialogue, stay far away. This is strictly for the folks who like digging through dusty film archives.

Chyornaya kozha isn’t subtle. It’s not trying to be. It moves with this heavy-handed, sincere energy that’s almost impossible to hate, even when the plot goes completely off the rails.

The transition from the protagonist's life in America to the Soviet docks feels jarring, like someone stitched two different movies together with a rusty needle. You can see the shift in the lighting, and honestly, the film is better for it. It gets a little weird when everyone starts acting like the future of humanity depends on a handshake.

There’s a specific scene involving a group of workers gathering around a newspaper that goes on for way too long. The silence is deafening. I found myself checking my watch, but then I noticed the expressions on the background extras. They look genuinely exhausted, which gives the whole thing a weirdly grounded, gritty feel.

It’s not as polished as The City Chap, but it has a messy soul that I kind of respect. Sometimes the camera just lingers on a face for five seconds too long, and you start to wonder if the actor forgot their lines or if the director just really liked the texture of the guy's hat.

The whole thing feels like a fever dream about global brotherhood. It’s naive, sure. But there’s something about the way it presents these big, sweeping ideals that makes you want to forgive the stiff acting.

Some quick thoughts from my notebook:

• The lighting in the dock scenes is actually pretty moody, even if the sets look like they’re made of cardboard.
• The main character’s smile is either incredibly hopeful or absolutely terrifying—I still can't decide which.
• I’m pretty sure the guy in the back row of the meeting scene is just counting his fingers.
• There is a distinct lack of music during the most emotional moments, which makes the whole thing feel strangely cold.

It lacks the sharp wit of something like Black and Tan Mix Up, but it’s definitely not boring. It’s just… strange. You spend the whole runtime wondering if you’re watching a movie or a lecture, and usually, the answer is both.

I left the screen feeling like I’d just been shouted at by someone who really, really wanted me to agree with them. It’s an odd, uneven, and totally fascinating watch. 🎞️