We see a film that makes love to questions our souls seldom ask. The pain of attachment whispers to those of us finding love sacred, until we are all alone screaming in torment's silence.
A woman in Moscow attempting the forbidden, crossing the bridge of survival in the ice and snow of human apathy. As we are there with her, helplessness unflowering shock, the garden of our selfishness wants us to leave this immersion, are we drowning or escaping...Although we are the prisoner of our own denial, we would beg to lose the shackles of the woman in this film. Samal graces the river of my senses with a waterfall of paralysis. A rainbow of emotion awaits you. Become the fire of the sunrise. Or the darkness before the dawn. Fire does not burn. It illuminates. A film that blinds, that you may truly see and feel. Close to home...
A woman in Moscow attempting the forbidden, crossing the bridge of survival in the ice and snow of human apathy. As we are there with her, helplessness unflowering shock, the garden of our selfishness wants us to leave this immersion, are we drowning or escaping...Although we are the prisoner of our own denial, we would beg to lose the shackles of the woman in this film. Samal graces the river of my senses with a waterfall of paralysis. A rainbow of emotion awaits you. Become the fire of the sunrise. Or the darkness before the dawn. Fire does not burn. It illuminates. A film that blinds, that you may truly see and feel. Close to home...