Plot synopsis

The story takes place in 1940. Ninth-grader Iskra Polyakova, raised in strict Soviet ideology, gradually begins to see the gap between Party doctrine and genuine human emotion. A pivotal moment in her inner transformation comes from her discovery of Sergei Yesenin’s poetry, introduced to her by her friend Vika Lyuberetskaya. Once dismissed as “decadent,” Yesenin’s verse opens Iskra to a new understanding of sensitivity and humanity. After Vika’s father is arrested, the school demands that Vika denounce him publicly, but she refuses — and Iskra refuses to participate in her expulsion from the Komsomol. Crushed by events, Vika commits suicide, and the students organize her burial. At the funeral, defying her mother’s orders, Iskra reads Vika’s farewell letter and poems by Yesenin, marking her moral awakening. Later, Vika’s father is rehabilitated, though the shadow of war looms. The epilogue reveals the tragic fates of the students: several die in WWII, and Iskra, who joins the underground resistance, is executed alongside her mother.

Selected in the following festivals or events :

- Contemporary Russian Poets and Russian or Soviet Cinema, (kinoglaz.fr), 2026

- Stalin in contemporary Russian cinema, (kinoglaz.fr), 2023

- Retrospective Russian cinema at the "Reflet Médicis", Paris (France), 2010

- Retrospective Russian cinema at the "Reflet Médicis", Paris (France), 2009

- Sputnik nad Polska, Warsaw (Poland), 2009

- Nantes Russian Film Festival, Nantes (France), 2006

- "NIKA" Prizes, Moscow (Russia), 1987

Photos, videos, texts

Стихотворение Сергея Есенина: Собаке Качалова
Poème de Sergueï Essenine : Au chien de Katchalov
Poem by Sergei Yesenin: To Kachalov’s Dog

Video - 9:51

Собаке Качалова

Дай, Джим, на счастье лапу мне,
Такую лапу не видал я сроду.
Давай с тобой полаем при луне
На тихую, бесшумную погоду.
Дай, Джим, на счастье лапу мне.

Пожалуйста, голубчик, не лижись.
Пойми со мной хоть самое простое.
Ведь ты не знаешь, что такое жизнь,
Не знаешь ты, что жить на свете стоит.

Хозяин твой и мил и знаменит,
И у него гостей бывает в доме много,
И каждый, улыбаясь, норовит
Тебя по шерсти бархатной потрогать.

Ты по-собачьи дьявольски красив,
С такою милою доверчивой приятцей.
И, никого ни капли не спросив,
Как пьяный друг, ты лезешь целоваться.

Мой милый Джим, среди твоих гостей
Так много всяких и невсяких было.
Но та, что всех безмолвней и грустней,
Сюда случайно вдруг не заходила?

Она придет, даю тебе поруку.
И без меня, в ее уставясь взгляд,
Ты за меня лизни ей нежно руку
За все, в чем был и не был виноват.


Au chien de Katchalov

Donne-moi, Jim, pour le bonheur, ta patte,
Une patte comme celle-là, je n’en ai jamais vu.
Allons, aboyons ensemble à la lune
Dans ce temps calme et silencieux.
Donne-moi, Jim, pour le bonheur, ta patte.

Je t’en prie, mon cher, ne me lèche pas.
Essaie de comprendre au moins la chose la plus simple avec moi.
Car tu ne sais pas ce qu’est la vie,
Tu ne sais pas ce que vaut la peine de vivre.

Ton maître est aimable et célèbre,
Et il y a toujours beaucoup d’invités chez lui,
Et chacun, en souriant, s’efforce
De caresser ton pelage de velours.

Tu es, à la manière des chiens, diaboliquement beau,
Avec cette douce et confiante gentillesse.
Et sans demander la permission à personne,
Comme un ami ivre, tu viens embrasser.

Mon cher Jim, parmi tous tes invités,
Il y en a eu tant, de toutes sortes.
Mais celle qui était la plus silencieuse et la plus triste,
N’est-elle pas venue ici par hasard ?

Elle viendra, je t’en donne ma parole.
Et sans moi, en plongeant ton regard dans le sien,
Lèche-lui doucement la main pour moi,
Pour tout ce dont j’ai été ou non coupable.


To Kachalov’s Dog

Give me your paw, Jim, for good luck,
I’ve never seen such a paw before.
Come on, let’s bark together at the moon
In this quiet, soundless weather.
Give me your paw, Jim, for good luck.

Please, dear fellow, don’t lick me.
Try to understand at least the simplest thing with me.
For you do not know what life is,
You do not know that life is worth living.

Your master is kind and famous,
And there are always many guests in his house,
And each one, smiling, tries
To stroke your velvety fur.

You are, in a dog’s way, devilishly handsome,
With such sweet and trusting charm.
And without asking anyone at all,
Like a drunken friend, you rush in to kiss.

My dear Jim, among your guests
There have been so many, of every kind.
But the one who was the quietest and the saddest—
Has she not come here by chance?

She will come, I give you my word.
And without me, gazing into her eyes,
Lick her hand gently for me,
For all I was and was not guilty of.