BISFF Correspondence 通信计划
This program involves conducting brief email interviews with the directors of the international films featured in the festival, in lieu of the traditional Q&A session that follows the screenings. Through this program, we hope to provide a platform for filmmakers to discuss their work and share their insights with our audience in China.
为了跨越种种障碍，开辟更多交流空间，我们设置了“BISFF Correspondence 通信计划”，对部分国际单元的参展作者进行系列访谈，这些访谈将在作品放映后发布在联展各个媒体平台。
某处家园（以及切尔诺⻉利的遗迹）｜Some Place Home (And What Remains of Chernobyl)
Diana Matsepuro
2023｜0:20:48｜Russian Federation, US｜Russian｜Asian Premiere
Director: Diana Matsepuro
Interviewer & Translator: Yu Qiao (Chelsea)
Coordinator & Editor: Suliko
导演：黛安娜·马采普罗
采访、翻译：乔屿
统筹、编辑：苏丽珂
Q1: Your academic background is in visual anthropology. How do your training and perspective as an anthropologist influence the filming and storytelling aspects of this work?
作为拥有人类学学术背景的创作者，您的学术训练及视角如何影响这部作品的拍摄和叙事？
A1: As both an anthropologist and a filmmaker, my primary goal was to create a sense of intimacy between the film’s subject and the audience. At the same time, I was mindful not to use sensitive yet compelling footage merely to make the documentary more captivating. Anthropologists must approach their subjects with care and attentiveness, and this principle guided my filmmaking choices.
For example, filming and editing the scene at the ruined house was particularly challenging. In hindsight, I now realize how emotionally difficult it was—not just for my father, but for myself as well—to witness the house’s state of decay. To preserve the authenticity of the moment, I deliberately kept the heavy breathing captured by the microphone, allowing the audience to feel the weight of our emotions. However, to balance this intensity and avoid the aestheticization of ruins, I overlaid much of the scene with warm, calming archival footage of the home from our family collection. This editorial decision juxtaposes two starkly different realities of the same place in different times, creating a contrast that evokes nostalgia without romanticizing destruction. Including this sequence in the final cut enhanced the film’s authenticity and contributed to its sensory ethnographic quality.
The documentary is deeply personal, centering on both my experiences as a filmmaker and my father’s journey. From the very beginning, we envisioned it as a collaborative effort—something that distinguishes it from many other films on this topic. Documentaries such as Chernobyl: The Lost Tapes (dir. James Jones, 2022) and The Babushkas of Chernobyl (dir. Anne Bogart and Holly Morris, 2015) examine the disaster’s consequences from a more distanced perspective, often positioning the subjects as objects of observation rather than active participants in storytelling.
Additionally, many films attempt to weave together multiple personal stories while emphasizing imagery of the Chernobyl ruins. While this approach helps reconstruct the disaster’s impact through firsthand accounts, it also creates a sense of detachment. By relying on a privileged, observational camera to tell the story, these films risk reducing intimacy, making the narrative feel more generalized rather than deeply personal.
作为人类学家和电影人，我的首要目标是在影片主题和观众之间建立一种亲近感。同时，我也注意不要仅仅为了让纪录片更吸引人而使用敏感而又具压迫性的镜头。人类学家必须小心谨慎地对待他们的研究对象，这一原则指导着我的拍摄选择。
例如，拍摄和剪辑被毁房屋的场景特别具有挑战性。事后回想起来，我意识到目睹房屋的破败状态在情感上是多么困难——不仅对我父亲，对我自己也是如此。为了保留那一刻的真实性，我故意让麦克风捕捉到沉重的呼吸声，让观众感受到我们情绪的沉重。然而，为了平衡这种强度并避免令废墟的景观变得审美化，我在大部分场景上叠加了我们家族所收藏的那些温和、克制的房屋档案片段。这样的剪辑方式——通过将同一地点在不同时间的两种截然不同的现实并列在一起，既形成了一种唤起怀旧之情的对比，又不会将“破坏”浪漫化。在最终剪辑中加入这个片段既显现电影的真实性，也有助于增强其感官民族志式的特质。
这部纪录片非常个人化，围绕着我作为电影导演的经历和我父亲的旅程展开。从一开始，我们就把它设想为一种合作——这是它与许多其他关于这个主题的电影的区别所在。《切尔诺贝利：遗失的录像带》（导演：詹姆斯·琼斯，2022 年）和《切尔诺贝利的大娘们》（导演：安妮·博加特和霍莉·莫里斯，2015 年）等纪录片从更外部的距离审视这场灾难的后果，它们通常将拍摄对象定位为观察对象，而不是讲故事的积极参与者。
此外，许多电影试图将多个个人故事编织在一起，同时强调切尔诺贝利废墟的形象。虽然这种方法有助于通过第一手资料重现灾难的影响，但它也创造了一种疏离感——通过依靠特制的、观察式的摄影机来讲述故事，有可能会降低亲切感，使叙事更具普遍性，而不是更为私人的。
Q2: In the video, your dad made some insightful and spot-on observations about society and history. For example, he highlighted the significance of the moral values that everyday people actively strive to uphold and the tension between the wealthy—who advocate capitalism—and the traditional culture of religion. Has your father ever shared his thoughts on the camera's role in capturing and reflecting history and reality, whether before or after he worked on this documentary?
面对镜头，您的父亲对社会的现实、历史做出了准确且深刻的观察。比如，他强调了人们在日常生活中努力维护道德价值的重要性；还揭示了（代表资本主义）富人阶层与捍卫传统宗教文化的群体之间的紧张关系。你父亲在拍摄这部纪录片之前或之后，有没有分享过他对通过摄像机记录社会历史和现实的作用的看法？
A2: That's a very interesting question, but I actually cannot recall him saying anything specific about the camera’s role in capturing history. However, one thing we discussed long before I started working on the film: It was how, in the past—before widespread internet access and video platforms—what people saw in the cinema and on TV was always controlled by people in power. Unlike today, when literally anyone can upload videos about their life and opinions for public access, back then, authorities dictated what was shown.
For example, Soviet cinema was vastly different from pre-revolutionary films in Russia because Soviet films were infused with ideology and propaganda. The Soviet leadership had a very forward-thinking approach, considering cinema the most important art form since it was accessible to the widest audience—making it a powerful tool for influence. I believe Hollywood and the film industries of many other countries have followed and perhaps still follow the same principles. If there’s a need to promote a particular idea, cinema is the easiest way to do it.
Perhaps that’s why I turned to documentary filmmaking—it may not be as commercially popular, but it feels far more honest.
这个问题很有意思，但我其实不记得他曾给出过具体的看法。然而，在我开始制作这部电影之前，我们讨论过一件事：在过去——在互联网和视频平台普及之前——人们在电影院和电视上看到的内容总是由当权者控制。不像今天，任何人都可以上传有关他们自己的生活和观点的视频供大众观看；而在当时，当局全权决定播放内容。
例如，苏联电影与俄罗斯前革命时期的电影大不相同，因为苏联电影充满了意识形态和宣传。苏联领导层采取了一种非常“有远见”的做法，认为电影是最重要的艺术形式，因为它可以被最广泛的观众所接受——使其成为一种强大的宣传工具。我相信好莱坞和许多其他国家的电影业都遵循了同样的原则，也许现在仍然在遵循。如果需要推广某个特定的想法，电影是最简单的方法。
而这或许就是我转向纪录片制作的原因——它可能不那么具有商业价值，但感觉更加诚实。
Some Place Home (And What Remains of Chernobyl), Diana Matsepuro, 2023
Q3: I felt very touched when you asked, “Why is it always this way in our country, Dad?”. What were your thoughts when you posed this question? Were you considering a specific trait of Russian nationality or perhaps a recurring theme in the nation's history?
您向父亲提出了一个令人印象深刻的问题，即“为什么我们国家总是这样？”。为什么产生这个疑问？您是否在反思国家的某些民族性特质，还是在思考这个国家历史上那些曾反复出现的问题？
A3: I think I came to this emphasis through the idea of uncertainty, which one anthropologist of late socialism, Alexei Yurchak, connects to the state of being “vnye” (literally, “outside”), signaling the ambiguity that Russia historically became attached to, in the sense of being neither East nor West, neither Europe nor Asia, as well as to the notion of losing something, which is today physically represented in the emptying landscapes and cities that are shrinking rather than growing. In his book on the paradoxes of late socialism, Everything was Forever, Until it Was No More, Alexei Yurchak explains the concept of being “vnye” by talking about how one of his informants uses it:
Inna’s use of the concept vnye suggests a particular relation to the system, where one lives within it but remains relatively “invisible.” One employs discursive means that do not quite fit the pro/anti dichotomy in relation to authoritative discourse and cannot be quite articulated within the parameters of that discourse. (Yurchak, 2005: 132)
Yurchak defines ambiguity as a way of life that exists both “inside and outside” (Yurchak, 2005: 154) of a given context, such as the authoritarian system of the Soviet Union. Some called it “internal emigration,” which is to say, remaining in place, but not fully engaging all that surrounds. Ambiguity in Russia, then, was and now continues to be a way for people to adapt to the conditions they are placed in, including frequent changes in political regimes, economic crises, and wars. This lifestyle leaves a significant part of people's lives unrepresented and excluded from official discourse.
The Bryansk region serves as a border zone between highly contaminated areas and seemingly uncontaminated ones. This position has created new spatial realities and practices. There are multiple reasons for this, including a lack of information from the government about radioactivity in the first months after the disaster that my father talks about in the film, a general lack of trust in state policy, uncertainty regarding whether to leave or stay in the aftermath of the nuclear catastrophe, and a performative shift in late socialism that created new spatial realities, as Alexei Yurchak has argued.
These new spatialities allow people in the Bryansk region to live "inside the system" and perform all the practices that they are asked to, while still maintaining their own opinions and rules regarding the reduction of the aftereffects of radioactivity. For example, locals have created a different mapping system for identifying the most contaminated areas for berry picking. Based on the interviews I conducted, this information is used more frequently in everyday practices than anything officially declared by the state.
As I consider these newly created spatialities, I cannot help but think about the idea of home from the perspective of safe spaces that are not subject to authoritarian discourse. In such spaces, individuals do not have to perform practices and rituals to demonstrate their loyalty to the system but instead choose to do so willingly.
我认为我对这个问题的思考源于“不确定性”这一概念，研究晚期社会主义的人类学家阿列克谢·尤尔恰克将其与“vnye”（字面意思是“局外”）的状态联系起来。这种状态象征着俄罗斯历史上所依附的模糊性——既不属于东方也不属于西方，既不是欧洲也不是亚洲——同时也与“失去”的概念相关。如今，这种“失去”在物理上表现为逐渐荒芜的景观和不断收缩而非扩张的城市。在他关于晚期社会主义悖论的著作《一切曾是永恒的，直到它不再如此》中，阿列克谢·尤尔恰克通过讲述他的一位受访者如何使用“vnye”这一概念来解释其含义。
伊娜对“vnye”这一概念的运用表明了一种生存与系统之间的特殊关系，即生活在其中但仍保持相对“隐形”。一个人使用的话语手段并不完全符合对权威话语的支持/反对二分法，也无法完全在该话语的参数范围内被明确表达。（尤尔恰克, 2005: 132）
尤尔恰克将模糊性定义为一种“既在内部又在外部”（Yurchak, 2005: 154）的生活方式，存在于特定语境（如苏联的威权体制）之中。有些人称之为“内部移民”，意思是留在原地，但并未完全融入周围的一切。因此，模糊性在俄罗斯过去是、现在仍然是人们适应所处环境的一种方式，这些环境包括频繁的政治体制更迭、经济危机和战争。这种生活方式使得人们生活中的重要部分未被代表，并被排除在官方话语之外。
布良斯克地区处于高度污染区域和看似未受污染区域的边界地带。这一位置创造了新的空间现实和实践。造成这种情况的原因有很多，包括我父亲在电影中谈到的，灾难发生后的前几个月里政府没有提供有关放射性物质的信息、群众普遍缺乏对国家政策的信任、对核灾难后是否离开或留下的不确定性，以及如阿列克谢·尤尔恰克所说，晚期社会主义的操演性转变创造了新的空间现实。
这些新的空间性使得布良斯克地区的人们能够“生活在系统内部”——既履行他们被要求的所有实践，同时仍然保持自己对减少放射性后果的独立看法和规则。例如，当地人创建了一个不同的地图系统来识别最受污染的浆果采摘区域。根据我进行的采访，这些信息在日常实践中的使用频率比国家官方颁布的任何信息都要高。
当我思考这些新创造的空间性时，不禁从“安全空间”的角度思考“家”的概念——这些空间不受威权话语的支配。在这样的空间中，个体不必通过实践和仪式来展示对体制的忠诚，而是可以自愿选择是否这样做。
Q4: I was also quite impressed by the background music, which resembles a spiritual instrument that evokes feelings of retrospection, meditation, and focus. Could you provide more details about the design of the music？
影片的背景音乐似乎模拟了一种颇具灵性的乐器，唤起了回忆、冥想和专注的感觉。您能提供更多关于音乐设计的细节吗？
A4: In the realm of post-production, this film was, quite literally, crafted by just two people: myself and the composer, who composed the beautiful score specifically for this project. His name is Pasha. Throughout the process, we had countless conversations—he would watch fragments of the edited material, and we would discuss how each scene should sound. But the most important and meaningful aspect for me was that Pasha, the composer, is originally from Klintsy—the very town where we filmed the entire documentary. In a way, this story became personal for him as well, and he poured that connection into the music, allowing it to reflect the emotions and history of the place.
在后期制作方面，这部电影实际上只由两个人制作：我和作曲家，他专门为这个项目创作了优美的配乐。他的名字叫帕夏。在整个过程中，我们进行了无数次对话——他会观看剪辑素材的片段，我们会讨论每个场景的声音效果。但对我来说，最重要和最有意义的方面是，作曲家帕夏来自克林齐——我们拍摄整部纪录片的那个小镇。在某种程度上，这个故事对他来说也变得很个人化，他将这种联系融入音乐中，让它反映出这个地方的情感和历史。
Some Place Home (And What Remains of Chernobyl), Diana Matsepuro, 2023
Q5: The concept of "remains" is significant in this documentary, encompassing personal memory, family history, natural disasters, and social changes. It also raises the important question of who has the right to deal with those remains. What are the boundaries between private and public remains? How do you interpret "remains," and do you see its constructive and transformative potential?
这部纪录片中，“遗迹”这一概念十分重要，它涵盖了个人记忆、家族历史、自然灾害和社会变迁。它也提出了一个重要的问题：谁有权处理这些遗迹。私人遗迹和公共遗迹之间的界限是什么？您如何解读“遗迹”，您认为这个概念自身具有建设性和变革性吗？
A5: In this documentary, "remains" function as both physical and symbolic traces of the past—ruins of homes, landscapes altered by disaster, fragmented family histories, and the lingering presence of memory. They are what is left behind, but they are also what continues to shape the present.
Those territories contaminated after Chernobyl disaster were excluded from or not included in the capitalist economic system during the transition from socialism to capitalism and experiences of emptiness are the state of life “between the death of the old world and the birth of a new one”. The transitional form makes those experiences a powerful lens for exploring relationships between the capital, the state, people, and the place. And yet, in my film I wanted to emphasis that this transitional state is also a lasting one, producing its own material and social dynamics, tensions, and challenges. I absolutely agree with how Dace Dzenovska, in her article “Emptiness. Capitalism without People in the Latvian countryside,” presents her perspective on the Soviet physical remnants in the post-Soviet space:
“Soviet ruins stand as reminders of futures past. Buildings, however poorly constructed, had been inhabited. They produced sociality, whether through attempts to maintain and repair them or through their everyday use.”
Dzenovska argues that Soviet ruins could not solely be viewed as a physical manifestation of the Soviet system's failure, but rather as something that still produces sociality through everyday practices. This reveals the ambivalent way that residents of depopulating areas relate to their Soviet past. This ambivalence of perceiving emptying spaces I explore in the film through the experience of my father.
在这部纪录片中，“遗迹”既是过去的物质痕迹，也是过去的象征性痕迹——家园的废墟、被灾难改变的景观、支离破碎的家族历史和挥之不去的记忆。它们是遗留下来的东西，也是继续塑造当下的东西。
切尔诺贝利灾难后被污染的那些地区在从社会主义向资本主义的过渡期间被排除在资本主义经济体系之外或未被纳入其中，中间的空白经历标识着“旧世界消亡与新世界诞生之间”的生活状态。过渡期使这些经历能够有力地折射出对首都、国家、人民和地方之间关系的探索。然而，在我的电影中，我想强调的是，这种过渡状态也是一个持续的状态，它会产生自己的物质和社会动态、紧张局势和种种挑战。我完全同意戴斯·泽诺夫斯卡在她的文章《空虚：拉脱维亚乡村没有人的资本主义》中对后苏联空间中苏联物质残余的看法：
“苏联废墟是对那些未来过去时的提醒。无论建筑多么糟糕，它们都曾有人居住过。它们产生了社会性，无论是通过维护和修复，还是通过日常使用。”
泽诺夫斯卡认为，苏联废墟不能仅仅被视为苏联体制失败的物质表现，而是可以通过日常实践产生社会性。这揭示了人口减少地区的居民与他们的苏联过去之间的一种矛盾关系。在影片中，我通过父亲的经历探索了这种对空置空间的矛盾感受。