Narrator (voice)
The memory of World War II is the only thing that makes a small Russian town alive. Like a great treasure this memory is preserved here in every home and is passed on from generation to generation. Yet exactly this memory prevents people from understanding that despite their own will they are getting involved in a new war.
Producer
The memory of World War II is the only thing that makes a small Russian town alive. Like a great treasure this memory is preserved here in every home and is passed on from generation to generation. Yet exactly this memory prevents people from understanding that despite their own will they are getting involved in a new war.
Screenplay
The memory of World War II is the only thing that makes a small Russian town alive. Like a great treasure this memory is preserved here in every home and is passed on from generation to generation. Yet exactly this memory prevents people from understanding that despite their own will they are getting involved in a new war.
Director
The memory of World War II is the only thing that makes a small Russian town alive. Like a great treasure this memory is preserved here in every home and is passed on from generation to generation. Yet exactly this memory prevents people from understanding that despite their own will they are getting involved in a new war.
Producer
Can people worship the one who destroyed them? Imagine, for example, a thousand Jews praying at Hitler’s grave. Impossible? In modern Russia, nothing is impossible and we continue to pray to those who have destroyed us in the millions.
Screenplay
Can people worship the one who destroyed them? Imagine, for example, a thousand Jews praying at Hitler’s grave. Impossible? In modern Russia, nothing is impossible and we continue to pray to those who have destroyed us in the millions.
Director
Can people worship the one who destroyed them? Imagine, for example, a thousand Jews praying at Hitler’s grave. Impossible? In modern Russia, nothing is impossible and we continue to pray to those who have destroyed us in the millions.
Director of Photography
Our village has always been a place of exile, a land of prisoners. Once in the winter, on the edge of the village we found an old man in an old car. He was freezing. He had nothing and was from nowhere. Now he lives in the cellar of our church. Step by step we get to know his story.
