It is hard to classify an artwork like this, neither documentary nor movie, at least not in the classic definition. It has not any definite and describable plot, nor a linear story of any kind. It's more a fireside tale, some friend telling you stories in a cold night. The viewer himself finds out to be the traveller, maybe better wanderer, and the mesmerizing voice of the author leads him to a plane in which the need of a logical sequence of events is definitely blown away, in a kind of dream where images are offered and much more are suggested, so that the beholder ends up to be the traveller of his own thoughts. Like during the "Faust" of Sokurov, I found myself hypnotized by the crafty art of visual representation, with no more resistance to this strange way of filming without any rule. I cannot say of having seen a "movie", but surely I've been left richer.
Review of Elegiya dorogi
