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Cult Review
Senior Film Conservator
Po tu storonu (On the Other Side) isn't going to be your Friday night blockbuster, that's for sure. This is one for the serious old-film buffs, maybe those who dig into silent-era curiosities or early Soviet cinema. If you're looking for fast thrills or a tightly wound plot, you'll probably bounce off this pretty hard.
But if you have patience for a slower, often quiet kind of storytelling, and enjoy seeing how filmmakers wrestled with big ideas way back when, there's something here. Maybe. 🤔
The film starts with Nina Shaternikova, and boy, does she carry a lot on her face. Her eyes do so much work, conveying this deep, almost bottomless sadness without a single spoken word. It’s really quite something to watch.
There's this one shot, I think it's when Nina is looking out her window, and the light just hits her face in a way that feels too perfect. Almost staged, you know? But then it works because it highlights that feeling of her being alone with her thoughts.
Aleksandr Melnikov, playing… well, he’s in it too. His character often feels a bit stiff, like he's posing for a still photo rather than reacting in the moment. It’s a style choice, I guess, but it sometimes makes him feel disconnected from Nina's raw emotion.
The story, such as it is, unfolds slowly. We get glimpses into Nina's life, her past, and then this creeping sense that something isn't quite right. The "other side" isn't a place you visit; it's more like a feeling, a memory that keeps pulling at her.
The pacing here is deliberate. Really deliberate. You could probably make a sandwich, eat it, and come back without missing a crucial plot point. For some, this will be pure torture.
For others, it lets you sink into the atmosphere. The film has this melancholic haze over it, almost like a dream that’s about to turn into a nightmare. The sets are sparse, mostly interiors, which just amps up the feeling of confinement.
There’s a particular sequence where Nina is just sitting, staring. And it goes on about 20 seconds too long, and the silence starts to feel awkward rather than purely emotional. You start to wonder what the director really wanted us to get from that moment.
The use of title cards, for a film of this age, is pretty standard. But sometimes they feel a bit clunky, breaking the flow instead of enhancing it. It’s like the film is trying to explain itself, but the images were already doing most of the heavy lifting.
The whole concept of the "other side" is never really spelled out. Is it a spiritual realm? A manifestation of grief? Just Nina’s mind breaking under the strain? The film trusts you to decide, which is kind of refreshing, even if it leaves you a bit bewildered.
There’s a scene where objects in Nina’s room seem to shimmer, or maybe just look slightly out of place. It’s a subtle effect, and honestly, you might wonder if it’s an intentional visual cue or just the old film stock. But it adds to that unsettling vibe.
You can almost feel the movie trying to convince you this moment matters, trying to pull you into Nina’s headspace. And often, it succeeds, thanks to Shaternikova's powerful, if sometimes overstated, performance.
So, is it worth watching today? Only if you’re genuinely curious about early cinema and have a high tolerance for ambiguity and slow, slow pacing. It’s not a film that gives you easy answers or a thrilling ride.
It’s more like a quiet hum, a lingering feeling of sadness and wonder. If you liked the contemplative, almost poetic style of something like Nerven, you might find something to appreciate here. But if you’re more into Cameo Kirby for its sheer entertainment, this isn't it.
Po tu storonu is a film that leaves you thinking, but maybe not always about what you saw. More about what you *felt* while watching it. It’s a piece of history, and sometimes that’s enough. 🎬
IMDb —
1930
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