In the heart of eastern Siberia, in a Russia straight from a Millet painting, in a far-flung forest, live two families who are almost neighbours.

They can’t stand one another. Yet they must live together, each as far as they can from the other. Their children? Little wild animals who seem primeval, don’t particularly care about their families’ quarrels, and prefer to surrender to the power of games that transcend all distance. But modernity, merciless and without regard for anyone, is knocking at the door of this troubled Eden.

A documentary that opens a veritable window into this world, Braguino’s images are troubling because of their veracity. It leaves a mark, a feeling of what “inhabiting” really means. It’s rare that a film can give us the feel of an area in this way. Expertly filmed with a profound sensitivity, the film is testament to this intimate and filial relationship that ties us to the land and renders us willing to go to great lengths to defend it. Braguino is a work about spaces, the places we live and share, and our resistance towards seeing them change. But it’s also a film about time, about retreat and remoteness. Far from the rumble of the daily grind, land finds a way to build ground in us as we build ground with it. And as time flies, it bears remembering that we often need our neighbours more than we’d like to believe.

Nadine Gomez
Filmmaker