Institute of mournful help – Newspaper Kommersant No. 221 (7422) dated 11/29/2022

Ivan Petukhov’s full-length debut “Sisters” was released – a psychological thriller with elements of mysticism. However, it is not otherworldly forces that truly terrify him, but the everyday reality of domestic violence, believes Yulia Shagelman.

Ivan Petukhov, who directed it according to his own script, calls his film “the first Russian post-horror”. It sounds ambitious, but, perhaps, it is fair – in the domestic cinematography you will not immediately recall examples of this fashionable subgenre, with which the names of young Western directors like Robert Eggers or Jordan Peele, who have been favored by critics, are associated. However, “Sisters” is distinguished from the general background not only by its genre affiliation, but, first of all, by its appeal to the uncomfortable, often hushed up or, even worse, played out for laughter theme of domestic violence. It is not specifically Russian, but in the film it is enough to accept our reality, which makes it even scarier. What is worth, for example, is that neither the victim, nor even anyone from her entourage even thinks of contacting the police – this is not a convention, without which “the kin would not have happened”, but one of the most realistic details in the whole picture .

It begins with an animated prologue, the style of which imitates a charcoal drawing: the motifs of fire and ash will be repeated here more than once. It tells the story of some “sisters” who lived in a happy community, closed off from the world, until this world – masculine, cruel and unceremonious – did not come right to their doorstep with the intention of destroying them. Not having the strength and means to resist, the sisters burned themselves alive, while vowing from another dimension to lend a helping hand to their comrades, who also happen to face violence and bullying.

After that, the film moves to an apartment in a new building somewhere in an unnamed Russian province. An ordinary young family lives here: Andrei (Nikita Efremov) works, Anya (Irina Starshenbaum) sits at home with preschooler Mitya (Yaroslav Golovnev) and bakes cakes to order. The husband, however, considers this activity just a hobby, which he treats with at first glance harmless mockery. But unlike most traditional horror films, the authors do not seek to paint a deceptively idyllic picture that will be destroyed by subsequent events. In the life of these people, from the very beginning, there is a shade of tension and anxiety: the apartment, despite the fresh renovation, looks dark and stuffy, the dexterous hostess Anya, who bakes pancakes for breakfast, has an absent look, her husband’s enthusiasm for the upcoming wedding anniversary clearly gives falseness.

And indeed, as soon as he leaves the threshold, Anya feverishly dresses herself and the child, grabs the already packed bag and rushes to escape (an explanation for her son: they are leaving for warmer climes). However, two steps away from the house, her husband catches her, returning for some forgotten thing. After that, he takes his son to his mother, and Anya locks her alone in the apartment. We are seeing more and more signs of what kind of hell she really lives in: bruises on her back, chest and shoulders, previously hidden by clothes; broken bathroom mirror short flashes of memories of her husband’s screams and the sound of blows.

The scenes of violence are not directly shown in the film, and Andrey looks quite civilized, adequate and caring, so that you can even doubt for a second – what if all this is just a painful fantasy of a mentally unstable woman? However, the way a loving spouse deftly sets verbal traps in conversations with her, how he literally strangles her in his arms and does not allow her to show freedom even in small things like what to eat and wear, destroys these doubts in the bud. Anya is really trapped, and the deepened horror of what a rebellion against her husband can turn into paralyzes her will and does not allow her to rationally comprehend ways to escape from the house, presenting a clear answer to the common question why it is so difficult for victims of domestic violence to leave their tormentors.

In search of salvation, she writes about her misfortune (of course, passing it off as an incident with a “friend”) on some forum on the Internet and among the many comments in the spirit of “it’s her own fault”, she finds a phone number answered by a woman with a face hidden in the shadows (Anna Chipovskaya). It is she who tells Anya about the protective sisters and the rite by which they can be summoned. Only then does the film begin to carefully shift into a mystical plane, while leaving a gap that allows us to consider the appearance of the sisters as a figment of the imagination of the heroine, driven into a corner and exhausted morally and physically. The ending of the picture also gives room for interpretation, which, with all the desire, cannot be called happy, although the immediate danger from the life of Anya and her son seems to disappear. And the data of absolutely real statistics in the final credits are even more frightening than the entire previous film, and confirm that, alas, one cannot hope for supernatural help in this matter.