Trup de-yure: A Quiet Struggle for What's Right (Maybe)

Okay, so Trup de-yure. If you're into those quiet, almost mournful films from way back when, the ones that really dig into someone’s struggle against the system, you might find something here. It’s certainly not for everyone. Expect it to test your patience if you need constant action or clear-cut answers.

You’ll probably hate it if you can’t stand long takes of people just thinking or staring out windows. This movie moves at its own speed, which is often a snail's pace. It's really more of an experience than a story, if that makes sense. A mood piece, maybe?

The film centers on Ivan (V. Rizenko), a man trying to reclaim his old family estate. Or, more accurately, the legal right to it after some unspecific upheaval. It’s all very grey. The specific year isn't hammered home, but the whole vibe screams post-something-big, where documents and memories are all tangled up. You get the feeling he’s fighting for something that barely exists anymore.

Rizenko, he's got this face. It’s just so tired. Every line on it tells a story, even when he’s just sitting there in some dusty office. There's a scene, maybe twenty minutes in, where he's waiting. Just waiting. The camera stays on him, and he rubs his thumb over a worn-out photograph. It felt endless, but also, I couldn't look away. You feel the weight of every minute he’s spent on this quest.

Natalya Vasilyeva plays the stern, almost unfeeling bureaucrat who processes his claim. Her hair is pulled back so tight, it looks painful. She never smiles. Not once. Her eyes dart from the papers to Ivan, but it's not judgment, more like pure, unadulterated weariness with paperwork. It's a small detail, but it makes her feel less like a villain and more like another cog in the machine. A very tired cog. ⚙️

The offices, wow. They’re all these cavernous, echoing rooms. Light barely makes it in through the grime-streaked windows. You can practically smell the old paper and dust. The sound design really leans into it too, with footsteps echoing down long hallways and the scratch of a pen being amplified. It’s subtle, but it makes the world feel immense and indifferent.

There's a moment when Ivan is walking home through a market. A woman is selling a single, bruised apple. He looks at it, then at his empty pockets. He doesn't buy it. This isn't a grand statement, just a tiny beat that underlines his situation. No big speeches needed. It just is.

Some of the dialogue felt a bit stilted, almost like reading an old legal document. Especially when Uralskiy's character, some kind of minor official, is explaining the statutes. It goes on and on. My mind drifted a little there, I’ll admit. But then you catch a glimpse of Ivan’s face again, and you’re pulled back into his quiet desperation. It’s like the film trusts you to hang in there.

Pyotr Zinovyev, who plays the old caretaker of the estate Ivan is fighting for, he’s got this wonderful, rambling quality. He tells stories that don’t quite connect, but you listen anyway. He talks about the old days, how the roses used to bloom “so red you’d swear they were bleeding.” You see the ruin of the garden through his eyes. It’s a sad sort of beauty. 🥀

The film doesn't really have a climax in the way most movies do. It just... ends. Or rather, it stops. The camera just holds on Ivan looking at something off-screen. It leaves you hanging, which I guess is the point. No easy answers. It's unsettling.

One thing that bugged me, just a little. The constant grey palette. I get it, bleakness and all, but sometimes a splash of color would’ve been nice. Even a tiny one. It felt almost too deliberate at times. Like the movie was trying really hard to make sure you knew it was serious.

But then again, there’s that shot of the river, murky and slow-moving, with bits of ice floating by. It just sits there for a while. No music, no dialogue. Just the water. It’s one of those moments that sticks with you. It feels real.

So, yeah. Trup de-yure is a slow burn. A very, very slow burn. But for those who appreciate a deep dive into character and atmosphere over plot mechanics, it offers a strange, quiet reward. It makes you feel the weight of history and bureaucracy. It makes you think about what it means to truly own something, not just legally, but in your heart. It's heavy. ⚖️