[T]hese crisp, high-contrast images speak to another impulse as well: to look into a past shrouded in the fog of delusion and doublespeak, and to see through it with a clarity that burns and even heals.

It's Konchalovsky regular Vysotskaya who stays with you, as a complex heroine whose utopian Soviet dream is gradually unravelling. It's a remarkable performance at the center of a devastating film.

The script is filled with flat, rhetorical speeches that are done no favors by Konchalovsky's static direction.

The black and white photography adds to its documentary-like feel but it’s as much a family melodrama as it is a historical essay.