If you’ve ever found yourself down a YouTube rabbit hole, surveying the curious and twisted content that the people of the internet have to offer, odds are that you’ve come across a compilation of Russian dash cam videos. These videos document daily life in Russia through the lens of a windshield, and often capture events bursting with intense absurdity. Some of cinema’s greatest contemporary filmmakers (Abbas Kiarostami, Michael Haneke) have utilized dashboard cameras to stunningly emotional results. But they had narratives helping them out, masterfully crafted stories. Kalashnikov, meanwhile, is working with real life. His narratives come from YouTube uploaders. He has compiled some of the most outlandish videos into The Road Movie, an experimental documentary comprised entirely of this found footage. The result? Utter batshit insanity.
“Murphy’s law”, which very well could have been this film’s subtitle, is an adage which states that “anything that can go wrong will go wrong.” Somehow, for some reason, the only traffic law in Russia seems to be Murphy’s. Cars constantly careen into one another at random. Hooligans run up on unsuspecting drivers, smashing their windows and taking off.
The Road Movie is so packed with jaw-dropping material that normally harrowing events like car crashes almost seem tame. A tank rolls up to a car wash. A small group of people drive slowly through a vast neon-purple forest fire. An unhinged maniac straddles the hood of a screaming driver’s car, staring her down and holding on for his life. A meteor lights up the sky and crashes in a nearby city (yes, that meteor).
The film is effectively stunning, not just in part to the sheer energy of its content but in how it manages to style itself. The simplicity of the dash cam medium leads to some unintentionally breathtaking cinematography. Drab, uneventful urban landscapes are torn apart pixel by pixel. Our four-doored world is rocked with vibrant flashes, pierced by the buzzing and whooping of police sirens and whatever else storms its way down the streets of Russia. In one of the film’s few moments documenting the good-hearted nature of everyday people, a group of Good Samaritans quickly pull over to assist the victim of a hit-and-run. From our vantage point inside the car, their deed plays out as a short silent film, slowly obfuscated by a gentle rainfall.
Of course, Kalashnikov has selected the most evocative clips in order to make the film as compelling as it is, but one still gets the feeling that driving in Russia is a daily dance between civilians and the brutality of chance. Their stunned reactions to the events that unfold before them serve as a vulgar commentary to the film, and just like the drivers and passengers that make up the cast of The Road Movie, I found myself in a constant flux of bracing for impact and jumping out of my seat, letting out a hefty string of expletives every few minutes. Not knowing much about the social customs of Russians, I can at least say with certainty that four-letter words make up a good deal of their vocabulary when behind the wheel. “Fuck a duck, bitch!” a man yells to a clumsy group of runaway carriage horses, seemingly missing a good chunk of their carriage (as well as their driver.)
Frightening, heart-stopping, and occasionally hilarious, The Road Movie drives ahead with impressive force at a blistering speed. By the time the credits begin to roll, you’ll find yourself quoting one of the film’s many shaken drivers: “Fuck, it’s over. What a great ride.”
The Road Movie will be screened on August 1st at the William Vale Hotel. More information can be found here.