The scenario is a small town on the Karelian Peninsula. Most of the filming was done in Segezha, in the Karelia Republic, part of the Russian Federation, about 200 km from the Finnish border and 500km northeast of St. Petersburg. The film revolves around Antonina, an artist and and graphic designer from St. Petersburg. Her husband Sergei has been imprisoned (ostensibly for attacking a policeman but more likely for opposition to the regime). Antonina moves to the town where Sergei is serving time. She secures a job in the local high school as an art teacher.
The town sits in an area of melancholic beauty, where the frozen tundra alternates with lakes and vast forests. The town is dreary. Houses are in disrepair, provision of electricity is spotty and a skeleton police force is obviously unable to cope with local crime. The only source of work is a giant wood processing plant; one of its outputs are the simple pencils of the title. Antonina, whose enthusiasm is boundless, reveals itself as a natural art teacher. She awakens the vast reservoir of artistry, creativity and imagination present in every child, a reservoir that will remain untapped in absence of attention and support. We also see the therapeutic effects of art. Her attitude contrasts with that of her colleagues, most of them trying grudgingly to do their duties but burned out by the indifference and lack of support from the government and the town. The ending is purposely indefinite, oscillating between tragedy and hope. The pencils are perhaps a symbol for enlightenment, education, freedom.
Direction by Natalya Nazarova (who also wrote the script) is alternately lively or slow and deliberate. Supported by the outstanding cinematography of Andrey Naydenov, Nazarova has a talent (as Antonina in the movie) for opening our eyes to the beauty of living and inanimate things; human faces, the taiga, the forests, the fractal branching of dormant trees. Even the drab, dimly lit interiors, the piles of logs awaiting processing and the pencil making machines are imbued with a mysterious meaning, without contrived shots or trick lighting. Acting is excellent all around and includes both professionals and locals who have this film as their only credit. Last but not least, music is tasteful (Scarlatti) and sparingly used. Highly recommended.
The film is highly critical of the government and of living conditions in Russia. Yet, in one of the last screens we read that the movie was filmed "with financial support from the Ministry of Culture of the Russian Federation." This runs counter to the idea (that the US mainstream media trumpet tirelessly) that Russia is a monolithic dictatorship.
The town sits in an area of melancholic beauty, where the frozen tundra alternates with lakes and vast forests. The town is dreary. Houses are in disrepair, provision of electricity is spotty and a skeleton police force is obviously unable to cope with local crime. The only source of work is a giant wood processing plant; one of its outputs are the simple pencils of the title. Antonina, whose enthusiasm is boundless, reveals itself as a natural art teacher. She awakens the vast reservoir of artistry, creativity and imagination present in every child, a reservoir that will remain untapped in absence of attention and support. We also see the therapeutic effects of art. Her attitude contrasts with that of her colleagues, most of them trying grudgingly to do their duties but burned out by the indifference and lack of support from the government and the town. The ending is purposely indefinite, oscillating between tragedy and hope. The pencils are perhaps a symbol for enlightenment, education, freedom.
Direction by Natalya Nazarova (who also wrote the script) is alternately lively or slow and deliberate. Supported by the outstanding cinematography of Andrey Naydenov, Nazarova has a talent (as Antonina in the movie) for opening our eyes to the beauty of living and inanimate things; human faces, the taiga, the forests, the fractal branching of dormant trees. Even the drab, dimly lit interiors, the piles of logs awaiting processing and the pencil making machines are imbued with a mysterious meaning, without contrived shots or trick lighting. Acting is excellent all around and includes both professionals and locals who have this film as their only credit. Last but not least, music is tasteful (Scarlatti) and sparingly used. Highly recommended.
The film is highly critical of the government and of living conditions in Russia. Yet, in one of the last screens we read that the movie was filmed "with financial support from the Ministry of Culture of the Russian Federation." This runs counter to the idea (that the US mainstream media trumpet tirelessly) that Russia is a monolithic dictatorship.