Paths of Enemies: Soviet Repentance, and Lots of It

So, should you watch this?

Honestly, only if you have a soft spot for Soviet-era moralizing or just really like looking at floor plans of old houses. It’s not exactly a popcorn flick. If you get bored when people spend ten minutes just talking about their political reputation, you’ll probably want to skip this one. But if you’re a sucker for that specific brand of intense, staring-into-the-middle-distance acting, you might find it weirdly compelling.

The whole thing hinges on Epifan Okatov, a guy who seems to think giving away his house will fix everything. It’s a bold move, sure, but watching him do it feels like watching someone try to apologize to a brick wall. The film has this stiff, formal rhythm that makes every scene feel like a legal deposition that went on way too long. Maybe that was the point?

The Vibe

There’s a strange emptiness to the house scenes. Like, the rooms are huge, but nobody seems to know what to do with all that space. The characters stand around looking like they’re waiting for a train that isn’t coming. It reminded me a bit of the suffocating tension in The New Babylon, though with a lot less energy.

I couldn't help but notice how much everyone emphasizes the "villainous past." It’s repeated so often it stops sounding like a crime and starts sounding like a bad habit. Like leaving your socks on the floor, but for the Soviet Union.

• The lighting in the study is weirdly gloomy, even during the day.
• Someone keeps fidgeting with their collar in the background of the big confession scene. It’s distracting!
• Marina Ladynina is in this, and she’s doing a lot of work just with her eyebrows.

The pacing is… well, it’s a choice. You’ll be sitting there, waiting for a big outburst, but instead, you get another five minutes of someone staring at a window. Sometimes the movie feels like it’s holding its breath, and then it just… forgets to exhale. It’s not as manic as Le peripezie dell'emulo di Fortunello e compagni, that’s for sure.

It’s not a film that’s trying to be 'pretty.' It’s trying to be 'correct.' There’s a difference. You can feel the movie trying to convince you that this house transfer is the most important event in history. It’s almost charming, in a desperate sort of way. Like a kid showing you a drawing they’re really proud of, even if it’s just a circle and a line.

I think I’m done thinking about Okatov now. He’s safe in his house, or he’s not. Either way, the credits roll, and you’re left wondering if the furniture was actually that uncomfortable or if they were just acting.