Sokurov and his Caucasian school
How directors in the North Caucasus are making honest and powerful films about the fates of women, freedom, and the consequences of war—and winning prizes in Cannes and Berlin.
Anna Malgina (film journalist and film researcher)
In 2010, film director Alexander Sokurov made a surprising decision: he opened a directing workshop at the Kabardino-Balkarian State University in Nalchik. Not in Moscow, not in St. Petersburg, not at a renowned film school—but in the North Caucasus region, where the film industry was virtually nonexistent and prospects for young directors were few. "I don't teach my cinema. I give tools," Sokurov said. These tools included everything from acting and camera work to editing, lighting, sound, and, most importantly, the ability to see one's own story. His goal was simple and at the same time revolutionary: to give talented people the opportunity to tell stories where they live, to speak their native language, and to film what they know and feel.
Sokurov's workshop quickly became a unique creative phenomenon—a place where static clichés didn't exist: students learned not to copy, but to listen, observe, and feel. Five years of almost monastic training: Sokurov flew from St. Petersburg to Nalchik once a month, followed by lecturers from Moscow, St. Petersburg, and Europe. Ivan Chechot taught art history, Alexey Gusev taught film history, Boris Averin and Konstantin Bogdanov taught literature, Alexander Kladko and Madina Dokshukina taught acting, and the Frenchman Vincent Devaux taught editing. They studied from morning until night, with almost no days off, and shot a film every semester. At university, the workshop students were called "sectarians." Sokurov strove to prove that powerful cinema could be born not in the capital, but in the Caucasus Mountains—where the gaze is purer and the words more honest. Here, directors were formed who didn't ask, "What will be interesting to Moscow?"—they asked, "What is true for me, for those who live here?" The challenges were real: a lack of resources, a lack of response, sometimes even threats, but the creative impulse proved stronger. In the North Caucasus, where the echoes of war were still felt and the boundaries between the personal and the public were particularly fragile, a school emerged that would produce a new generation of directors.
The workshop's graduates—Kantemir Balagov, Vladimir Bitokov, Malika Musayeva, and Kira Kovalenko—created films that evoked the voice of the Caucasus, its people, and its stories, yet these works were universal and relatable to audiences worldwide. As Balagov admitted in an interview, "When we watched the work of Russian film school graduates, we felt very lucky to have Sokurov. He prioritized our individuality over academicism. He even forbade us from watching his films—which, of course, we watched in secret. It was important to him that we not imitate his style or that of other famous directors."
The results exceeded expectations. Young directors produced unique films that received recognition at international festivals. Their works proved that regional cinema can be profound, honest, and expressive. Despite differences in genre and scale, these films shared one common thread: they explored life in the Caucasus and the Russian provinces through personal stories, rather than clichés, exoticization, or tourist myths. These films explored the human psyche, social constraints, and the family and historical circumstances that shape the characters' destinies.
Kantemir Balagov's film "Closeness" (2017) was one of the workshop's first high-profile works. It was screened at the Cannes Film Festival in the "Un Certain Regard" section, where it won the FIPRESCI Prize for Best Debut, and also received awards from the Kinotavr and Zerkalo festivals. The story is set in Nalchik in the 1990s, where the life of a Jewish family is shaken by the kidnapping of their son. Each family member must find their way in a world filled with fear, mistrust, and ethnic tension. "I see life through the eyes of my characters," he says. explained director.
Closeness demonstrates that even a provincial town can become a setting for great drama, and personal stories can reflect social and historical reality. One of the most powerful and shocking scenes is the video recording of the execution of Russian soldiers by Chechen fighters, which the film's characters watch. "I knew it was necessary for the story—to convey the context of time and place. One of the key aspects of Closeness is that my characters live with the feeling of war. Chechnya, you know, is not that far from Kabardino-Balkaria. Anything that happens there could spill over into our territory at any moment," говорил Balagov. Shot in 4:3 format, the film literally squeezes the viewer into the frame. "There's a sense of closeness within everyone who grew up in the Caucasus. We all carry it within us," he added. After "Closeness," Balagov made "Beanpole," inspired by Svetlana Alexievich's book "The Unwomanly Face of War," which also screened at Cannes. After 2022, he moved to the United States, where he is working on his first international project.
In his film "Mom, I'm Home" (2021), Vladimir Bitokov continues to explore the theme of family relationships and the war that encroaches on provincial life. The action takes place in Kabardino-Balkaria. The film's protagonist, Tonya, a bus driver (Ksenia Rappoport), doesn't believe her son, a private military company soldier killed in Syria, is dead and seeks proof he's alive. When a man (Yura Borisov) appears across her path, claiming to be her son, Tonya's entire reality begins to crumble. "This is a story about a mother and her soldier son. It's a fairly universal story—regardless of time, regardless of war. (…) If maternal grief were somehow taken into account, then perhaps there would be fewer wars. I'm inclined to believe that maternal grief is generally not taken into account in our country, regardless of region," says Bitoks.
Scenes of the mother's loneliness in her apartment, moments of opening old letters, and encounters with her "son," whose eyes reveal something simultaneously familiar and alien, make the film psychologically precise and tense. The film shows how external events—war, social instability, death—penetrate a person's intimate world, and the power of the human psyche creates dramatic contrasts without any special effects. The film premiered at the 2021 Venice Film Festival in the "Orizzonti Extra" section. It later won the NETPAC Award for Best Asian Film at the Pingyao International Film Festival.
Another workshop graduate, Malika Musayeva, in her debut film, "The Cage Seeks a Bird" (2023), tells the story of two young women from Chechnya who dream of freedom and a different life, but face the pressures of family and tradition. The protagonist, Yakha, is forced into marriage against her will. She tries to escape the fate of a "captive bird," but the "cage" continues to search for her, no matter what. Walks through the village, conversations about fears and desires, and clashes with social norms create the feeling that the Caucasus is not just a backdrop, but a living participant in the action. The film is both personal and social: it features the voices of those seeking freedom but limited by circumstances. "The Cage Seeks a Bird" is the first Chechen-language film to be presented at a Class A film festival. In 2023, it was screened at the Berlinale in the "Encounters" program.
According to Musayeva, all the actors were non-professionals, residents of the village of Arshty: "After a couple of days, they already knew how to look at the camera, how to act in front of it." The director emphasizes that it was important to her to show not only the suffocating confinement of the space, but also internal resistance: "An attempt to escape is not always an escape." Musayeva recalls that in Sokurov's workshop, each student had to shoot a short film in their national language, and the themes most often concerned family—after all, in her words, "many don't know how relationships work in the Caucasus, even in Russia." She admitted: "It's very difficult for young people in the Caucasus. This applies not only to national characteristics. Each nation has a different path for girls. For example, among the Kabardians, a girl belongs to her family, not to herself. And there are almost no opportunities for development, nothing to cling to. Alexander Nikolayevich came to Nalchik and created the workshop so that we could remain in our homeland, make films there, in our own language. When we graduated, we wanted to stay. But it turned out that we all scattered. No one helped us—in fact, it felt like they were getting in the way, preventing us from filming. At some point, it became clear that we had to leave, because otherwise nothing would happen."
Kira Kovalenko has made another film about the fate of young women in the Caucasus. In her second film, "Unclenching Fists" (2021), she transports viewers to a small North Ossetian town where a young woman, Ada, struggles to escape her father's control and gain independence. "I wanted to show a generation searching for freedom," says the director. The film explores the universal conflict of growing up and liberation, exacerbated by local traditions, where family norms dictate the rhythm of life. Filming took place in Mizur, a former mining village along the Transcaucasian Highway, separated from the road by soundproofing shields, which Kovalenko turns into a metaphor for a confined space: life here seems frozen, and escaping it is incredibly difficult. "The entire story influences the perception of a place. I was drawn to the fact that in Mizur, where the film was shot, time stood still—stopped and preserved. That's the key. But I don't think much about the social; I'm interested in people," she says. confessed director.
Ada lives with her father and brother, deprived of any control over her own life: her father hides her documents and controls her every move. Every day, she awaits the return of her older brother, who has left to work in Rostov-on-Don, hoping his arrival will change their existence. Gradually, the family goes through a painful process of separation—necessary, but painful for everyone. Halfway through the film, it is revealed that Ada and her mother were victims of the Beslan terrorist attack: Ada is left with scars that require treatment, but her father refuses to allow her to leave, fearing loneliness. According to The director's film is inspired by her personal experience and years of observing family life in the Caucasus. Ada's story is not only a family drama but also a metaphor for a generation of women who grew up in the shadow of war and trauma, forced to seek freedom within a confined, patriarchal space. Unclenching Fists premiered at Cannes in 2021, where it won the festival's second-highest award—the Un Certain Regard Prize.
Sokurov's workshop not only formed directors but also created a new tradition of regional cinema in Russia. The Caucasus became not just a geographical space but a co-author of each story, influencing the form and content of the films. Stories born here are heard, translated, and screened at major international festivals—from Cannes to Berlin—proving that regional cinema can speak a universal language and address the most universal themes. In these films, the personal and the social are closely intertwined, demonstrating that even in the periphery, works are born that can change perceptions of Russian cinema.
Sokurov's Caucasus Workshop proved that decentralized cinema is possible—that film can be made in places without an industry and still produce works that gain international recognition. It is a place where stories about family, growing up, love, and freedom are born—especially the freedom of women seeking their voice and choice in a society where personal space is often defined from the outside. Their inner journey reflects a broader movement for liberation and self-understanding, transforming private dramas into universal stories of human dignity. The Caucasus, with its history, culture, and complex social structures, becomes more than just a backdrop, but a living participant in these stories, shaping the emotional and visual language of the films. And that is precisely why the works of Sokurov Workshop graduates deserve the attention of every viewer interested in authentic, honest, and expressive Russian cinema.
