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VICTORY!

A RUSSIAN WINTER

I have my own relationship with fear.

All my life, I've been haunted by fear.

It's been passed down through generations,

and, as they say...

I inherited it.

I don't blame anyone for that.

None of my forebears.

That's part of life. It's fate.

It's Soviet man's fear.

But it's that atmosphere of fear that I ran away from

and that I wanted to get rid of.

I think that fear like that makes you inhuman.

I chose to be a vagrant.

I don't know for how long.

Maybe for the rest of my life.

I chose to be a vagrant.

I think that,

as always in this country,

this feeling that tomorrow will never come

is something young people have long felt and that it's a part of life in Russia.

There's no stability.

It's really difficult

to plan for tomorrow or for next year,

to plan your life.

Because, regularly,

everything is turned upside down.

That's a big issue for young people in Russia.

Because when people can't plan for the future,

they start

going downhill.

They start

struggling against themselves.

They self-destruct.

Good evening.

You are watching the news.

First of all, the main topics.

The packages for the soldiers in Chechnya have arrived safely,

announced a member of the "Outpost" committee.

Here are some new names in local rock music.

We shall see some pictures from the concerts

of Anti-Utopia and Black Out.

That memory definitely had an impact on my whole life.

I was 13 years old.

Yes, that's it, 13 years old,

and I dreamed of playing on stage with one of my favorite punk groups.

It was all I dreamed of.

And me, when I was 13...

No! When I was 14,

I went up on stage. I'd never been to a concert before.

We were considered the town's first punk group.

There'd never been another one before us.

Imagine, I was only just 14,

I was up on stage and I couldn't see the public.

As an actress, you must know how that feels.

I was blinded by the spotlights

and couldn't see a thing in the concert hall.

I could just hear a sort of storm.

Anti-Utopia! Yuri!

-We're misfits... -Unconventional.

-Here, we're... -Censored.

We can't sing what we want.

Not because of bad language but the topics...

-Such as? -Horrible stuff.

About life. Shitty life.

That would be censored.

Why are you so morose?

We talk about life, monotonous life.

There's no originality. Everyone lives the same life.

We want to live differently.

Not stand out. Just be different to others.

We even have a song about the next elections.

It's a great song!

Who are these rock musicians?

Tell me why you decided to leave when the war broke out.

And where you went.

Lots of young people thought there would be

lots of demonstrations.

That people would come out and say no to war.

But they didn't come out.

It was very disappointing and painful.

I had the impression that it was a bit

like a betrayal.

At the time,

I had a girlfriend.

In fact, I felt like I was going crazy or perhaps dreaming.

We didn't know what was happening. "What was the war about?"

People were killing each other, bombing towns.

It's totally absurd.

Every day, you wake up and see that.

It's just unreal.

My girlfriend and I each reacted totally differently.

It was as if she'd lapsed into a sort of...

As a rule, when something happens,

I have to take action.

It's a pressing need.

I draw up a new plan.

"I'll do this and that. I'll move home."

I reinvent my life in just two seconds.

For her, it was exactly the opposite.

She fell apart. At first, she stopped communicating.

She couldn't talk with me, normally,

or make any decision whatsoever.

She was really in a state of depression.

We rambled on, not understanding each other.

Then, we came to an agreement.

"I'm leaving now and you join me in a month."

And then...

With my best friends, we decided

we'd meet elsewhere, in Turkey.

The system that watches over you

is doing horrible things.

I'd get phone calls from Ukraine.

I'd hear their cries, their despair,

explosions.

And I got text messages, too, from my student friends there.

I couldn't just sit around feeling frightened.

I had to do something.

I was mainly afraid for the people there.

And it's as if the very system that watches over you...

That's what makes you afraid.

But I think it was more anger than fear.

I like

what I see.

I miss that.

I miss Margarita.

Margarita is my best friend.

She's been stuck in Istanbul for several months.

She still can't get a visa for France.

I'm waiting for her.

Our entire little group is waiting.

I'm worried.

How are you?

Not bad.

I came back to Istanbul to pick up some of my stuff.

I was in Georgia.

At first,

I was supposed to pick up my visa, then head to Paris.

But as I still haven't got it,

I came here to pick up some warm clothes.

It's kind of like in a video game:

I always carry my backpack.

I go and fetch my stuff from the storage unit or from my friends' places.

I totally understand you.

If you're living in Georgia, why is your stuff in Istanbul?

I didn't really live in Georgia.

I lived in Istanbul for a year.

After that, I applied for a visa

and I've travelled around for six months.

I've been to Georgia, Armenia, Tashkent, Korea...

When did you leave?

In Autumn 2022?

No, I left in March.

Almost straight after the war started.

Why did you decide to leave?

Did you have time to prepare your departure?

One morning, I decided to leave,

and that evening, I was at the airport.

For me, it was different.

We got arrested at a demonstration.

And it was pretty rough.

Which police station was it?

I can't remember. We were taken somewhere.

I've forgotten. We were transferred.

When we came out, it was already dark.

The feeling of danger, physical danger even,

makes you understand that you have no rights.

In fact, you find yourself

totally defenseless.

It's horrible. They take away your phone.

You think, "Shit, I should have erased my photos. This will be bad.

"But why should I erase them? I've done nothing wrong!"

In fact, you know,

you become schizophrenic.

It's a really unpleasant feeling.

At one point,

I totally gave in.

I was with my boyfriend. They took our photos,

and I made up my mind.

After, I felt really strange.

I get flashbacks of all these details of what we went through.

Including that fear the authorities make you feel.

For example, when they asked my address,

first, I gave them my old one.

Then, I was scared that would make it worse

so I gave them my real address.

Once, I was home, I thought,

"My God, they could turn up at any time!"

I carried on feeling like that for several days.

Then, I realised, I couldn't go on like that.

At first it...

How can I explain it?

It broke my heart.

The streets and people around me all seemed threatening.

The streets I loved walking around...

I was scared to take out my rubbish.

"Shall I take my phone? Do I erase Telegram?

"If I'm arrested again,

"I'll get a heavier sentence."

Basically, I felt really strange.

I took the first ticket I could and I left.

I left a week after...

the start of the war.

I bought a ticket for Georgia,

for Tbilisi.

I had a plan.

I'd already found a place to rent in Tbilisi.

I got to the airport.

My flight was delayed for 24 hours.

It was really stressful.

Everyone was in a state of panic,

including me.

We were put in a hotel.

To wait. I thought, okay.

The hotel was just next to the airport.

The people who were alone had to share rooms with strangers.

There was a 35-year old man

who avoided any conversation.

And then...

We found ourselves in a sort of suite.

We sat facing each other, each on his bed.

He was watching "Russia 24" on TV

and, for a moment, I thought he might be an FSB agent.

I suddenly panicked and thought,

"I have to buy a ticket for Istanbul".

That ticket for Istanbul cost me an arm and a leg.

So, I said to him, "I'm going for a walk".

And just as I left the room,

he shouted to me, "Hold on!"

I thought, "Shit!

"He really is an FSB agent!"

He said to me, "You forgot your orange."

So, I took my orange and I left for Istanbul.

I don't know why I'm showing you this photo.

I've never looked like that.

In fact,

I changed my appearance, using AI.

That was on my arrival in Turkey.

It's the only picture I have of myself

when I arrived in Turkey at the start of the war.

I added on some extra kilos

and gave myself glasses.

I loved looking at this photo and imagining myself as someone else.

Someone I'm not.

I invented different stories.

I liked to imagine that this man had come to Istanbul

to find a spiritual master

and inner peace.

I am

an amateur

of images

that provoke strong or even painful emotions.

For example, last night, I couldn't sleep before 4 a.m.

So, I looked at pictures filmed by Ukrainian soldiers

using GoPros on their heads.

The way they fight is incredibly intense

and very realistic.

I can't explain

why I like watching pictures until 4 a.m.,

on my telephone

and men running and shooting each other in the trenches, wearing cameras.

I've found a good description of what I feel.

Of what it can be compared to.

It's like being a spy.

Not in the classical sense of the term,

but a kind of spy thing...

A sort of...

A man who's dived into the unknown

and who has to discover what's going on.

But he doesn't work for anyone.

Just for himself.

Margarita, are you there?

-Rita? -Yes, hold on a second.

I'm walking. I'm soaking.

It's freezing cold.

I'm leaving tomorrow.

I came home but I had to go

to the storage unit.

I didn't want to go there.

On top of that, I had my French lesson.

I couldn't focus.

I was in a really strange state.

Look, when I hear all that,

I totally understand that you've had it with all this.

It's a never-ending story.

I know what I need.

I need to rest.

I stopped.

I was overwhelmed.

I couldn't understand what was wrong with me.

I felt like a weight, on my chest.

My life, right now, is mainly,

"I run, I stop, I run, I stop..."

And I never stop waiting.

Waiting for lots of things.

Waiting. Endlessly.

Rita, you need to settle somewhere and stop waiting.

And so...

Rita, can you hear me?

My mother really didn't want...

My mother didn't want me to leave.

She asked me

to come by and see her first, if I decided to leave.

I was editing my video clip.

And I left, with a backpack, a laptop,

and a sweater,

for Chelyabinsk airport.

Then, from Chelyabinsk,

I went to Kazakhstan.

And so I didn't see her.

A few days later,

my father wrote to me

saying I had betrayed his daughter who'd just been born

and Christ.

Then my stepfather wrote, saying,

"You'd better come back because I don't know

"how I can explain to the kids that you're a traitor."

My mother tried to stay in touch with me.

As for the two men...

One of them is dead and I have no contact with the other.

-Which one is dead? -My father.

First, he enrolled in Wagner's troops,

then in the Russian Army.

In a regiment.

He got killed.

One day, he boasted to me.

He asked me to pray for him, from afar.

He said to me, "Prigozhine gave me an axe."

At the training camp.

It's a sign of respect.

Like a gift from an idol. Then, he went back in May,

from what I was told.

My mother said it was official,

"He left on a military operation".

When I heard that,

I immediately imagined

how that could end.

I don't think I brought bad luck on him.

He'd never been physically active and had never had

any military training. So...

It's as if it was

his own will.

Sometimes, in my dreams, I see him in strange places.

I go over to him,

and I take him by the collar,

and I say, "What's wrong with you?

"Think!"

But it happens less and less.

It just happens, for no reason.

So, I try not to worry about it too much.

Margarita finally got her visa for France.

I'm relieved.

It's funny.

I was really anxious

this whole time because of money.

I worried I'd run out.

Now I have none left, I feel...

serene.

What do you feel?

I feel more serene.

When you say that you've hardly got any money left

and that you're

in the situation I've been in the whole time,

I find that interesting.

It's the same for the way you're going to live and feel

and what will happen next.

I'm sure

there won't be a catastrophe.

And that you'll have support.

Why do you think we've never spoken like this?

About money.

We've been friends for ten years,

but it's as if...

there were topics we never discussed.

You know, when the war started,

I was at Liza's, in Tarusa. Do you know her?

Yes.

We woke up at her place.

There are lots of ravines in Tarusa. And snow this deep, in winter.

There was this deepening anxiety.

Something irreversible happened.

We were walking in the beautiful snow and ravines.

In places, the snow had melted

but it was still thick, elsewhere.

We sat on a tree trunk.

It was a very complex feeling that it's hard to describe.

But nature was living on.

The sun was shining.

What is strange is that, when the war broke out,

I was thinking...

And I don't think I told my shrink.

When the war broke out, I felt no empathy

towards...

You know, sometimes, you feel very empathic

for people who immediately show willing

and who engage in something.

Deep down, I felt...

The situation was extreme.

Wars follow on from one another. It's never ending.

I was more worried by

more general issues,

about the meaning of life, what we're doing here.

As if the war wasn't even

a part of the mental framework in which we should have empathy.

It was only a year and a half later

that I...

that I felt that I should, at least,

support the political prisoners.

Particularly,

as we've had political prisoners in my family.

We have ancestors who were shot

just after the Revolution.

It's like a ghost who's come down through the generations.

Do you still have close family in Moscow?

My mother and grandmother.

Nobody else.

I have a cousin and an aunt, too.

But they've become

pro-war.

So, what do you do?

Can you talk to them?

We spoke rarely before, as it was.

I spoke to my cousin, the last time, for my birthday.

I was in Istanbul, and she said,

"Happy birthday, Philipp!

"What are you going to do in Paris?

"Come back to Balashikha, we'll party together!"

A year after I left,

I was in Paris,

and they started calling me

saying, "If only you could see Moscow, Philipp, it's great now!

"The people who didn't fit in have all gone.

"You can breathe easier."

It was quite hypocritical,

what my cousin said.

I calmed down but, when I was in Istanbul,

I had these anxiety attacks.

I had a feeling something had remained far away.

I felt nostalgic for something that no longer existed and wouldn't return.

It was like a phantom pain.

Before, when I missed Moscow,

it was mainly for the people.

There are...

I feel there's a rift that's opened up...

Lost affinities.

You know, my grandmother has started losing her memory.

I spoke to her about the war because she watches television.

I told her things...

the way they are.

I said to her,

"I left and it's hard to come back

"because of this war and the situation.

"I miss you and want to see you."

And she said, "What war?"

"The war in which

"Russia attacked Ukraine."

"What do you mean, attacked?

"They show us that they are saving them."

I really want to see my grandmother.

I'm afraid for her. She's old and...

All that really frightens me.

How can I explain to her why I can't come?

Especially as she forgets and every time she says,

"Rita, where are you? In Istanbul. Oh, my God!"

Or, "I'm in Georgia". "Oh, my God!"

Each time, I say to her, "I'll come as soon as it's possible".

There you go.

Would you like to return to Russia, one day?

Yes.

I'd really like to live there.

I'd just like to have the possibility,

not necessarily of living there, but of being able to go back

without being afraid.

Did you forget anything about Moscow?

I noticed that I've started to forget certain names.

I've started to forget.

Places I used to go. I've started getting them mixed up.

There's visibly

a set quantity or volume

of cerebral conscience.

My memory is slowly fading.

Are you losing your mind?

I thought that the other day. But I can't remember what I forgot.

When Gio came, we met two Ukrainian women.

We chatted and they said,

or rather I said,

that I'd left after the war started.

They said,

It's nice.

It's nice that you left...

because of it.

I wondered

if it was "nice" or not.

Effectively...

I just left.

It was my choice.

Those who didn't leave,

that's okay, too. I don't know...

It's just a choice.

I agree with you. Were they Ukrainian?

Yes, Ukrainian.

Gestures are important for them, even if they're symbolic.

They consider them as gestures of support, even that sort of thing.

For them, it's a gesture of support.

I understand why, but...

Does that make me a good person?

I had no other choice, so I left.

On the one hand,

you try to do whatever is possible for you,

something you're capable of.

And on the other hand, you get lots of messages saying,

"Death to all the Russians!"

I had people like that among my followers.

And it's really complicated to exist

when, in your country, everything has fallen apart,

and elsewhere, you're rejected.

Ultimately, where do I go?

Nobody needs us.

Foreign countries reject us.

And in our own country,

our own homeland,

we are crushed.

At the end of the day,

I don't want to say we're victims.

I don't think we're ever in a position of weakness.

At least, people like us

have never acted like victims.

But we can only count on ourselves, our closest friends,

or our community for support.

My mum and I don't call each other, these days.

Last time, she wanted me to sign a paper

because I can't touch my share of my father's death premium.

I can't touch it but it exists.

If I waive my right to it, his current wife will get it.

She said to me, "You should sign

"and the money will go to her".

All that is very strange.

After that...

What do you think?

It's strange to get money for that.

It's an incredible amount!

And, basically,

it's as if the whole situation itself was just...

farcical or something.

-It is totally absurd. -Exactly.

Your father gave his life in exchange for money.

And the money has come back to his family.

What's most interesting is that I didn't support him

and I won't get any money.

Do they only give money to people who were favorable?

No, they give it to minors and university students.

Do you like my new color?

Have you seen my father's medal?

-He got a medal? -Yes.

-Did they send it after? -Yes.

A hero!

-Does it say that? -Yes.

Wow!

Did he die as soon as he got to the front?

Yes, pretty much.

He left and was killed within the first week?

He did training throughout winter,

and again in May.

Then, I think he took part in the attempted putsch.

Then, he visibly joined the Russian Army.

Immediately.

And at the start of the month,

he was sent to the front.

Two or three weeks later, that was it.

That's all.

After he died,

I had the impression I still had my father.

But no. Before, I knew he was there, but that we'd never be

on the same wavelength.

But there was always this father figure that I had to

satisfy in one way or another.

-What? -I had to satisfy my father.

Make him happy. Succeed, in his eyes.

Psychologically.

After he died, I had a creative boom

because of his death.

I'm my own master, now.

Do you feel Russian?

Absolutely.

Absolutely.

It really gnaws at me

each time there's talk about those "premiums".

It's all so well set up.

A "Died Fighting for his Country" premium.

"Dear friend..."

"Cash back."

"We have a deferred cash back offer for you."

My God!

It depends on your region, too. You get most money in Moscow.

It's written into law:

"Moscow: 20 000.

"Saint-Petersburg region: 10 000.

"Sakha: 5 000." Something like that.

Tariffs upon request.

What's weird is that

since the start of the war, in Russia, nobody has written a word

that could have united everyone

and could have become a slogan.

There's that saying:

"When the cannons are heard, the muses are silent".

I don't understand why, but it's actually true.

In two and a half years, nobody has managed to write a thing.

Strange.

As Russians,

we now find ourselves having

to do something to make up for what we allowed to happen.

Us.

Because we're Russian,

we are just shit

and owe a lot to a lot of people.

To almost everyone.

It's a game you can't win because all that is immeasurable.

One day, you do something to make up for it...

-There's a word for that. -A good deed.

And then, you're forgiven and you can feel human.

I know people who feel guilty about the war.

They try to make amends

and do something good.

But it's never enough.

It just makes things worse for them

because...

one sole person...

I don't want to minimize the responsibility and power

of just one person.

But you can't exaggerate that either.

When an ordinary person

finds himself confronting that system that we know so well,

he can't do a thing.

He can't...

save the entire world.

He can't stop the war.

He can't do any of that.

It's as if he was doomed. He feels...

hopeless.

Over the past year,

I think I've become more cynical.

That's quite normal.

I've probably become cynical

because I no longer feel anything.

I meet more and more people

who no longer feel anything.

As if everyone was fed up of everything that's going on.

They say,

"If people think I'm a shit, then I'll be a Russian shit.

"I've had it.

"I no longer want to prove anything or persuade anyone."

My whole life, I've had this feeling I owed something...

That I had to...

That something wasn't quite right with me.

That I had to suffer to make up for things, make them right.

And I've done that for half my life.

We try as much as possible to have happy lives.

But it's as if we weren't allowed to.

Why?

I don't feel that way.

I don't think we should forbid ourselves

to be happy.

As if the only thing alive

was the coexistence of those emotions.

There's a whole range of feelings that you can have

in a given situation.

My first days in Istanbul were just unreal.

We arrived on an island covered in snow and palm trees.

Whereas I'd just managed to extricate myself from that disaster.

I tried to collect my thoughts

and put my feelings into words.

That's when I realized

that simultaneous flow of feelings was suffocating me.

Fear. Shame.

Dismay.

Pain.

Grieving.

I shouldn't eat during the call to prayer.

-So don't eat. -But if I'm hungry?

I went with Margarita to Istanbul.

She finally has to empty out her storage room.

But she doesn't want to go.

I get this feeling that there's me and then there are other people.

And what I experienced brought me closer to other people.

It's as if I had an even better

understanding of things because of what I went through.

Thanks to all those experiences,

I forged ties with very different people.

In Paris,

when I catch people's eyes or exchange a few words

with migrants who've come from all over the place,

I feel an affinity with them.

From what perspective?

Our situations are worlds apart, what can possibly bond us?

And yet...

Where we are, we can understand each other, because

we're far from home.

I think that solitude

is the essence of life.

I am by the Black Sea.

I can see it's a bit windy.

Yes, a bit.

It's windy.

A bit of wind.

But it's very beautiful.

Can you hear me?

Yes, I can.

Sorry, but I'm connected via my phone.

This is the last time it will be this chaotic.

Next time, I'll be a normal student.

Sorry.

It's all right.

What's important is that you're there.

I try to connect, even if it's not for long.

Last time, we worked on household chores.

Like tidying and cleaning...

We'll look at some others.

To vacuum. That's very popular!

I'm in this group

of students,

but sometimes I'm in Georgia,

other times in a car.

To have. I have, you have, he has, we have, they have.

In the past, we keep the "ha..."

I had, you had, she had, we had, they had...

I'm worried about next year.

Everything went well the first year.

Everything fell into place.

-Your first year in Paris? -Yes.

But everything is hanging by a thread.

I don't know...

It's terrifying.

I'm 36 years old.

My whole life is just hanging by a thread.

It's sad.

I feel...

I don't know...

Am I ready for adult life? Will I be ready, one day?

Do I want to be an adult?

I've dealt with a lot of difficult emotions

that are all related to that.

At one point, I remembered

some songs I liked when I was between five and seven.

What did they say about me at the time?

Why did I like a particular song?

How come it pleased me?

One of the songs, The Sandpit Generals,

it's sad to say now, but...

it's a song from the film, The Sandpit Generals ,

about some street urchins.

I tried to understand why I was so touched by the lyrics.

I'll try to remember.

I see children playing in the street.

"I started my life in the urban slums,

"Left all alone against the world.

"While you caressed your kids at home,

"I had to beg for food out in the cold.

"Don't hide your eyes when you pass by.

"I've done nothing to deserve this ."

It seems that

people all have

habits and routines.

But it's as if I had nothing.

Apart from you.

As if nothing awaited me.

Apart from you. There's nothing apart from you.

Of course, I'm happy.

Happy and grateful.

Because...

I've been very lucky.

Few people are that lucky.

Finding the right person.

Your person in this world.

I've been very lucky, too.

And I'm really frightened.

In fact...

It's hard to say.

It's just that...

Every day, I think,

"What if something happens to me?"

Just anything.

Another war. Who knows?

I don't know how to cope with that.

When I think about it, I'm frightened.

-That you could stop existing? -Yes.

What you would become?

Or the opposite.

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