Before watching, I learned that one of the film's creators, Ales Adamovich, survived the Nazi occupation of Belarus as a teenager. He co-wrote the screenplay with Elem Klimov, drawing from his own memories and the testimonies of other survivors. I carried that with me from the opening scene.
I wasn't watching actors anymore. Every scene made me think about the people whose memories had found their way into the film.
The children kept pulling my attention away from everything else. I couldn't stop thinking about the ones who never had the chance to grow older. Their lives ended before they became ordinary adults, before they had the chance to become someone's parent, teacher, neighbor, or friend.
The more I watched, the harder it became to separate the film from the history behind it. I paused a few times and read more about what happened in Belarus. Then I went back to the film.
I couldn't fully grasp what I was feeling.
Part of me stayed immersed in the story. Another part kept refusing to believe that people had actually lived through this.
I kept thinking about Adamovich. He didn't have to imagine these events. He had already survived them. That thought kept following me from one scene to the next.
