Directors: Julia Loktev, Anna Nemzer
From its opening minutes it’s clear that Julia Loktev’s sprawling, two-part, multi-chapter My Undesirable Friends is going to be among the most essential films released in the UK this year. Boasting a running time in excess of five hours (and this is only Part I) that MUBI has already deemed too vast to present as a single viewing option, Loktev’s film takes us not just inside of totalitarian Russia, but deep into the liberal resistance movement circa 2021 as fronted by independent news channel TV Rain. The network is mandated to run disclaimers before all broadcasts announcing/denouncing it as a ‘Foreign Agent’, but those working in front of and behind the cameras are patriotic Russians fighting for a democratic future, even if it may not occur within their lifetimes. Loktev focuses on her friend, reporter Anna Nemzer, host of the show Who’s Got the Power?, and while the subject of this film might sound punishingly depressing, what immediately comes across is the defiant optimism within TV Rain. Something that will be tested over the ensuing hours.
Viewed from the vantage of a western society drowning in a media bias toward far-right propaganda, it’s reinforced from the off that Putin’s oligarchy is the desired template for nations like the United States and United Kingdom, and it is not long before the tactics applied are connected back to the principals of The Third Reich and Nazi Germany. Resistance, then, is presented as more of a moral duty than a privileged choice. But there is a sense of privilege here. The moniker “Foreign Agent” – which presenters are obliged to call themselves – is employed with a mocking tone, even self-applied like a badge of honour. Impassioned protest music from the “Hard Day’s Night” zone of the studio presents rallying cries to the people. The spirit of defiance is inspiring, but there’s also an aura of complacency.
The ‘happy revolutionaries’ vibe – hiding webcams in vibrators so the authorities won’t touch them; redefining themselves, glamorously, as James Bond-style ‘agents’ – is nevertheless surrounded by the cocoon of fear, threat and increasingly curtailed civil liberties. The schism is not lost on Nemzer who, in candid moments of reflection, has to consciously pull herself back from overwhelming negativity. My Undesirable Friends is well aware of the perils of resistance exhaustion, but frames it within a regime that poses a literal and present threat-to-life. A galling, casual revelation is that these reporters can be detained for 17 months before even being accused of a crime. Watching, we’re confronted with our own complacency, even as the warning signs of similar opportunistic mandates gather in our doomscrolling feeds.
Many of Loktev’s interviewees are young women, and there’s something in that dichotomy of gendered defiance of a largely old, white, rich authoritarian regime. A key observation is that successful fascist states don’t oppress everyone, but utilise pre-existing phobias, racism and sexism to divide while lulling a coddled majority with creature comforts. It’s no surprise, then, that this network of fact-checkers and truth-speakers is predominantly young, queer, and female. There’s a perception vocalised of a by-gone golden age of journalism, but watching these intrepid women persist suggests by itself that a new golden age is fighting to emerge.
Onscreen text at the end of each of the lengthy chapters undercuts the camaraderie with reminders that the full-scale invasion of Ukraine is imminent, unbeknownst to these freedom fighters, and that TV Rain is about to be shut down and virtually everyone catalogued by Loktev will be pressured to leave Russia. As Human Rights NGOs are forced to shutter, hindsight looms over these passages of the film, even as the journalists report gloomily on such developments. It’s grimly fascinating to watch a community tense for an impending disaster that they can’t wholly predict, idealism clashing with pessimism and pragmatism.
The third chapter mostly catalogues the New Year’s Eve broadcast of 2021. Champagne, make-up, joviality and a pensive period of waiting, while a house party addresses the escapist stupidity of Emily in Paris. In sharp contrast, chapter four flashes forward to February ’22, and our first explicit visit to the Ukrainian border, documented by Sofya Groysman, and a sombre mood of escalation. Reporting becomes a minefield for fear of being in breach of new legislations concerning military secrets. Now intertitles mark the days. Tension mounts and the political and the personal further entwine as the ramifications and feelings of powerlessness grow. All-nighters are pulled to keep the information flowing. Clasped hands of solidarity over laptops speak volumes. As young news reporter Ksenia Mironova (arguably this doc’s major star) works round the clock, mental exhaustion is joined by physical exhaustion. But nobody wants to be alone with their thoughts.
My Undesirable Friends is deliberately undisciplined, keeping in everything, from playfights to cake-making to reminiscing over past diary entries, but the scope of the exploration never particularly feels unruly or unjustified. The anecdotal spread of this document is always in service of capturing a wider context of modern Russia from a perspective outside of Putin’s controlled projection. Behind closed doors, Pride memorabilia is stored or displayed for prosperity, turning drab apartments into oases of freedom and comfort. Ideals deemed radical, dangerous or anti-state nevertheless nurtured outside of the view of prying eyes. But these are cramped spaces. Freedom that is not free, and fraught with impermanence.
While the multiple adoring references to H*rry P*tt*r are, frankly, depressing, one might concede that, in this environment, there are bigger fish to fry and the urge to return to days of fantasy and innocence are at least understandable*. This is a scrapbook of hopes, dreams and anxieties filmed on an iPhone at an historically uncanny time and place. It seems in poor taste to describe this as good luck on Loktev’s part, but she has, by happenstance, created a valuable record, and we’re only halfway through the telling.
Roll on My Undesirable Friends Part II – Exile. Prepare to meet a new set of heroes.
*No, fuck the hate-mongering TERF.
The Lost Highway Hotel 