Cartas de un hombre muerto

One needs to be in a resilient mood to watch Lopushansky's films, particularly this one. It surely is one of the gloomiest, saddest films out there, bare, raw and hyperealistic. It could not be otherwise, since its purpose is to show the aftermath of a massive nuclear attack on a large city somewhere, without heroes, without Hollywoodian last-minute miracles and hopes. The end of civilisation, the end of humankind.

The nuclear catastrophe, we are told, happened by accident. Most of the few remaining survivors are physically or mentally sick, going about zombie-like, and slowly dying off in a few dimly lit underground shelters. The situation above ground is even worse, with high-radiation, wreckage, rubble, strong winds and little light (some kind of "nuclear winter"), rotting corpses everywhere.

The main character is an old scientist who tries to preserve some sense of purpose, inter alia by continuing his work and by writing letters to his missing and most likely dead son, letters that are not sent because there is no address to send them to. The acting by R. Bykov who plays the scientist, is impeccable, and the same goes for the rest of the cast, although it seems out of place to think and comment on these matters in a film dominated by sheer horror.

The limited colour gamma used (mostly dirty ochres, greys and blacks) effectively reinforce the feeling of oppression and hopelessness this film so effectively conveys from beginning to end.

Very hard and painful to watch, but perhaps necessary to get an idea of what our world could look like, were we to use the horrific weapons we have created. Did in fact look like, for some, when these weapons were used at the end of WWII.