Eksponat iz panoptikuma: A Quiet, Unsettling Watch 👁️‍🗨️

Alright, let's get this out of the way: Eksponat iz panoptikuma is *not* a movie you put on for a casual Friday night. If you’re into slow cinema, the kind that lets scenes breathe, maybe even _too much_, then you might find something compelling here. But if you need plot, action, or even a clear point, you'll probably hate it. Go watch Riders of the Plains instead.

This film is less about a story and more about a feeling. It's like someone put a camera in a room and just… left it on. For a long, long time. The title itself, 'Exhibit from a Panopticon,' kinda tells you what you’re in for.

The Unblinking Eye 🧐

From the jump, there’s this heavy, observational vibe. You’re not just watching characters; you’re watching *them* being watched, or maybe you're the watcher, it’s all very meta. Semyon Svashenko, playing some sort of silent curator, has this way of looking at everything, almost through you.

There's a scene, early on, with an empty chair under a single bare bulb. It just sits there, for what feels like an eternity. Then a hand slowly, _slowly_, reaches into frame to adjust the bulb. No face, just the hand. It’s a bit much, but it really sets the tone for the whole thing.

The pacing is… deliberate. I caught myself wondering if the director just forgot to yell 'cut' a few times. But then, that silence, that extended shot, it kinda starts to work on you. It makes you lean in, looking for something that might not even be there.

Ivan Malikov-Elvorti, as the 'exhibit,' is mostly still. He’s often just sitting, observing others, or perhaps being observed himself. His eyes are just… *there*. It's a performance that asks _you_ to do all the work.

Moments That Stick (and Some That Don't) 🫠

There's a sequence where Evelina Shvets walks through a dusty, forgotten corridor. The sound design here is pretty fantastic; every creak, every distant murmur, feels amplified. You can almost feel the grit under her shoes. It's _very_ effective.

Then there are these strange, almost random, interactions. Aleksei Kharlamov’s character, for example, just randomly starts humming a tune that doesn’t seem to belong. It’s off-key and a little unsettling. It made me laugh, then feel weird about laughing.

Anna Meshcherskaya has a few lines, short bursts of dialogue that feel like they're pulled from a dream. You try to piece together what she means, but it’s probably not important. The movie just kinda _presents_ these things to you.

Did anyone else catch the brief, almost subliminal shot of a cracked teacup? ☕️ It flashes by, but it perfectly sums up the film’s quiet decay. Or maybe I just imagined it; it’s that kind of movie.

A Sense of Disquiet 😬

The whole thing leaves you with a certain feeling of disquiet. Not horror, not sadness, just… a quiet unease. It’s like being in a museum after closing, when you’re the only one left and the exhibits feel like they’re watching you.

The film plays a lot with light and shadow. Karl Tomski, credited as 'The Shadow,' mostly appears in glimpses, just a silhouette against a doorway. It's a neat visual trick that underscores the whole 'watching' theme.

It's an interesting exercise, this film. It doesn't _do_ much, but it makes you _feel_ things. Or at least, it makes you feel like you *should* be feeling things, which is kinda the same, right?

Don’t expect closure. Don't expect answers. Just expect to sit and observe. And maybe, just maybe, feel a little observed yourself. It’s a very particular flavor of cinema, and it’s not for everyone. But for some, it might just hit the spot. 🤷‍♀️