Ya vernus: A quiet, dusty look at coming home

Is it worth your time?

Honestly? Maybe. If you like movies that feel like a rainy Tuesday in a place you’ve never been, you’ll dig it. If you need a plot that moves at more than a walking pace, you’re going to be checking your watch every five minutes. It’s definitely not for the popcorn-chugging crowd.

There’s this scene about halfway through where Alekper Melikov just sits by a window for way too long. The light hits the dust motes in the air, and you realize the director isn’t planning on cutting away anytime soon. It’s stubborn. I kind of loved it, but I also wanted to stand up and stretch.

It has this grainy, lived-in texture that reminds me a bit of the mood in A Fallen Idol, but much colder. The performances are incredibly restrained. Sometimes they are so restrained that you wonder if they forgot their lines, but then a look or a twitch of a hand hits you harder than a shout would have.

Oddly specific observations:

• The sound design is mostly wind and distant footsteps. It makes your own living room feel eerily quiet.
• There is a door that squeaks in a really high, annoying pitch every time it opens. It happens four times. I counted.
• The costumes look like they haven’t been washed in a decade, in a good way.

The pacing is a disaster if you look at it through a textbook, but it works if you just let it happen. It doesn’t feel like it’s trying to be profound, which is the best part. It’s just trying to be itself.

It’s a bit like watching The Devious Path, only if everyone decided to stop talking halfway through and just stared at the wallpaper. Strange, but memorable.

I don’t think I’d watch it twice, but I’m glad I saw it once. It’s one of those films that leaves a little bit of grit in your teeth. 🎞️