In the tradition of train films, which adds huit clos to the direction and serendipity of the road trip genre, Russian train films form class apart: claustrophobic quarters shared with a medley of imposed companions within; monotonous, unwelcoming taiga without; the tedious stasis of the long journey unalleviated by surly staff and bad food.

Shooting largely within the confines of a real, moving train, the space limitation presented a challenge: “The biggest difficulty as a director was to stay in a different compartment than the actors,” Kuosmanen says. “I couldn’t be in the same space with them. I had to direct through the monitor….”

The film is inspired by the 2011 Finnish novel of the same title by Rosa Liksom, set in the 1980’s. Kuosmanen advances the clock to 1998, to a Russia more directly antecedent to that of today. The story proceeds from the cliché of the educated, cosmopolitan, foreign student versus the uncouth Russian worker, but neither is how they are perceived by the other, nor how they see themselves. Their ups-and-downs, give-and-take, shift constantly, with emotions flowing in one direction, then the other, at times concurrent, then at cross-currents, in response to the merest of circumstantial nudges.

Not all of which were scripted: “… this snowstorm came out of nowhere and we lost our tents […] It was a crazy moment. We thought that we’d have to stop, but it looked so amazing that I wanted to use it somehow, and I knew that we had to leave the next day. Luckily, the crew and the actors were on the same side. They all said, ‘Yeah, let’s do it!’”

An Estonian-Finnish-Russian-German collaboration, the film was well received by audiences in both Finland and Russia.

“… it’s not the arrival but the journey that matters … As for any wider message, the film’s central theme of overcoming otherness and finding common ground across personal, cultural and geographical borders seems like a balm for the soul in these tumultuous times.” Mark Kermode, Observer