This film describes a journey through the Russian countryside, 100km away from St. Petersburg. In the village, nothing but isolated, elderly people remain. Once a week, they receive bread via a German wagon that was abandoned during the war. The train stops at the station in Jikharevo, several kilometers from their village. Through the snow the villagers then have to push this wagon along a completely obsolete railroad. But when the bread is finally ready to be sold, not everyone receives the expected ration.
A word from Tënk
The masterful opening sequence of Bread Day is a prime example of the power of time in film: a power of suspension and of suspense, of waiting, of questioning—which is precisely what Sergey Dvortsevoy is interested in.
His sense of duration always serves the narrative—it’s distilled into each sequence—as does his keen sense of observation, one of attention to long-forgotten lost worlds. His documentaries always include animals, drawing our attention to their proximity and the things that connects us to them. Here, it’s the extreme conditions: the tensions that they create, and the solidarity that they require.
Pascale Paulat et Christophe Postic
General Delegates and Artistic Co-Directors of the festival, États généraux du film documentaire - Lussas