Vzorvannye dni: A Bleak Journey Worth Taking (For Some)

Alright, so, Vzorvannye dni. Is it worth watching today? For a very specific kind of person, yes. If you’re into older, grittier Russian films that aren’t afraid of long silences and slow, heavy paces, this might just hit right. But if you need explosions, clear plot points, or characters who smile, you’ll probably find this movie a chore. Seriously, folks expecting a tidy narrative will likely just hate it. 😬

The film just drops you into this world that feels… *after* everything. There’s no big setup, no voiceover explaining the global catastrophe. You just see Semyon Svashenko’s face, etched with something beyond weariness, and you kinda get it. It’s a very effective way to pull you in, even if it leaves you a bit disoriented.

There’s this scene early on, I think it’s Aleksei Kharlamov’s character, just trying to fix a broken lantern. It goes on for what feels like five minutes. No dialogue, just the scraping of metal, the flickering light. You see the frustration, the small, almost imperceptible shake of his hands. It’s *so* simple, but it tells you everything about their daily struggle. It’s not just about survival, it’s about the sheer effort of *existing*.

And the silence! Oh, the silence. So many films these days are terrified of quiet. Not Vzorvannye dni. The wind, the crunch of snow, the distant drip of water – these are the real soundtrack. It makes the few lines of dialogue, when they do come, feel so much heavier, more important. Almost like they’re being dragged out of the characters.

I distinctly remember a moment where the group finds an old, half-buried toy. A wooden doll, missing an arm. P. Kostenko’s character, who up until then had been mostly a quiet background presence, picks it up. He just holds it. No tears, no big dramatic gasp. Just this long, sad look. And then he puts it back down, carefully, like it’s a sacred thing. It’s a tiny beat, easy to miss, but it felt so powerful. A glimpse of what was lost. 😔

The pacing is… deliberate. Some might say agonizingly slow. There are long stretches of walking, just walking. Across bleak, expansive landscapes. You can almost feel the cold seeping into your bones just watching them. The camera often stays wide, making the characters feel incredibly small against the vast, empty world.

I was really struck by the dynamic between Svashenko and Kharlamov. Svashenko’s character is the leader, but not in a heroic way. More like, he’s just the one who hasn’t given up *quite* yet. Kharlamov, on the other hand, has this restless energy, a constant tension. You can practically see him wanting to break free, but there’s nowhere to go. Their unspoken disagreements are more potent than any shouted argument.

One scene that kept replaying in my head: they’re eating some kind of thin broth around a small fire. Everyone is just staring into the flames. No one talks. The camera just pans slowly from face to face. Each person looks utterly exhausted, but also, there’s a flicker of stubbornness there. It’s not defeat; it’s just… enduring. That’s Vzorvannye dni’s core, I think. Just enduring.

The technical aspects aren’t flashy, obviously. The cinematography is stark, lots of muted colors and deep shadows. But it works. It reinforces the mood. You don’t need high-gloss when the story is this raw. The shaky hand-held moments, especially during tense encounters, really make you feel like you’re right there, ducking behind some rubble with them. It felt very immediate, very *real*.

There’s a part where they stumble upon a seemingly abandoned outpost. The tension building here is fantastic. Every shadow feels like a threat. Vladimir Chuvelyov’s character, usually quite stoic, gets visibly jumpy. You see him gripping his makeshift weapon tighter. The relief, when they find it empty, is almost palpable, even for the viewer. But then there’s that lingering shot of a single boot left behind. Like someone just… vanished. 👻

Don't go into this expecting a happy ending, or even a clear resolution. Vzorvannye dni isn’t about tying up loose ends. It’s about the journey, the struggle. It leaves you with a feeling, more than a conclusion. A heavy feeling, but not necessarily a bad one. More like a profound quiet. You just have to be in the right mood for it.

Didja notice?

• The way G. Rostov’s character always seemed to be chewing on something, even when there was clearly nothing to eat? A strange nervous habit.
• The sound of the ice cracking underfoot during that one river crossing. So crisp.
• A single bird flying across the sky, just once, felt like a huge event in this desolate world.
• How the light seemed to shift so dramatically, making the same landscape look totally different from one scene to the next.
• The way Ivan Sizov’s character kept pulling at his sleeve, almost like he was trying to rub out a stain that wasn't there.
• One of the campfires, the smoke just billowed in this really weird, almost artificial way. I kept wondering if it was a trick of the light or just bad pyrotechnics. 🔥