“I’ve just about given up on this country,” a friend texted me recently. The past few months have felt like a disaster movie, with American institutions crumbling under unprecedented pressure. Major universities, top law firms, and leading media outlets seem to bend to the president’s will without much resistance. It raises the question: are we losing sight of what it means to be a country?
In this strange climate, watching a documentary about the free press in Vladimir Putin’s Russia might seem irrelevant. But Julia Loktev’s film, My Undesirable Friends: Part I—Last Air in Moscow, captivates from the start. It powerfully illustrates the struggle of people fighting for their rights as their society deteriorates. Witnessing their fight, you feel both their despair and their hope as they lean on one another for strength.
Loktev, who grew up in the Soviet Union and moved to Colorado in the ’70s, felt compelled to document Russian journalists facing increasing scrutiny. An article in 2021 about these journalists being labeled “foreign agents” pushed her to start filming. Her footage captures the last breaths of a free press in Russia, before the Ukraine invasion hastened its demise. As she says in the film, “The world you’re about to see no longer exists.”
Originally aiming to explore the absurdity of Russia’s foreign agent laws, Loktev discovered that these regulations became a lifeline for her characters. They now required a compliance statement in every public communication. This situation felt eerily similar to early Nazi Germany, where certain groups were forced to identify themselves for persecution.
As Loktev continued filming until the war began, the list of “foreign agents” grew from dozens to hundreds. The pressure on journalists escalated, leaving them wondering if they should flee or stay. During screenings, audiences are struck by how normal life continues around them, even as dangers loom—suggesting a bizarre disconnection from reality.
Loktev used iPhones to shoot her film, allowing for a sense of intimacy. The close-up footage brings you into the characters’ lives, with minimal exposition needed. Viewers become part of their world, witnessing the balance between normalcy and the threat pressing in on them.
In one poignant moment, Mironova, a young journalist, reflects on how quickly things unraveled in Russia. She sees disturbing parallels between the past and the present U.S. media landscape, especially with recent actions like the cancellation of popular shows that challenge power. “Welcome to Russia in the ’90s and 2000s,” she quips.
Statistics show that authoritarian regimes often emerge gradually, with erosion of freedoms disguised as normalcy. An expert in political science notes that public complacency can lead to a slippery slope of compliance. Mironova’s personal story—watching her fiancé imprisoned for treason—highlights the real costs of these political shifts.
Despite her observations about American media, Mironova expresses a hope for community strength in the face of rising authoritarianism. Her heartfelt remark, “Just be together,” reminds us of the importance of solidarity in uncertain times.
As events unfold, from the pandemic to current tensions, the lessons of My Undesirable Friends grow more relevant. We’re reminded that the line between past and present is thin, and it’s essential to remain vigilant in protecting freedoms we might take for granted.
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documentaries,russia,vladimir-putin,journalism
