‘My Undesirable Friends’ review: Crackdown on Russian media, told in real time

Great documentaries are sometimes lucky accidents, the product of being at the right place at the right time and then having the wherewithal to produce something extraordinary out of those unlikely circumstances. When director Julia Loktev traveled to Russia in October 2021, all she wanted was to chronicle a handful of smart, dogged journalists trying to tell the truth who, for their trouble, had been branded foreign agents by Vladimir Putin’s vindictive government. She didn’t know she would be arriving mere months before Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. But thanks to a quirk of coincidence, she ended up having a front-row seat to history.

She made the most of it: Running five-and-a-half hours without a minute wasted, “My Undesirable Friends: Part I — Last Air in Moscow” takes us inside TV Rain, one of Russia’s last independent television channels. Divided into five chapters, the documentary begins as Loktev, who was born in the former Soviet Union before leaving when she was 9, returns to her homeland armed with an iPhone to shadow veteran TV Rain reporter and host Anna Nemzer. Over the next four months, a period that ended shortly after the invasion began, Loktev embedded herself not just with Nemzer (who is credited as the film’s co-director) but several other journalists as they fear being arrested for their reporting.

Loktev hasn’t completed a film since 2011’s “The Loneliest Planet,” which starred Gael García Bernal and Hani Furstenberg as soon-to-be-wed lovers backpacking through the Georgian countryside, their seemingly close bond shattered after a harrowing encounter. In that movie and her previous feature, 2006’s “Day Night Day Night,” a spare procedural about a nameless suicide bomber in New York, Loktev explored the mysteries of human behavior under pressure. But with “My Undesirable Friends,” she takes that fascination to a new level, introducing viewers to a group of compelling subjects, many of them women in their 20s, who open up in front of her camera while hanging out at TV Rain, their apartments or in cafes, candidly processing their country’s terrifying descent into authoritarianism in real time.

These intrepid journalists couldn’t foresee the invasion that was coming, nor the brutal local crackdown on free speech in its wake, but Loktev makes those dire certainties clear from the start, solemnly intoning in voice-over, “The world you’re about to see no longer exists.” Since its premiere at last year’s New York Film Festival, “My Undesirable Friends” has been compared to a horror movie and a political thriller but perhaps more accurately, it’s a disaster film — one in which you know the characters so intimately that, when the awful event finally occurs, you care deeply about the outcome. (“My Undesirable Friends” bears the subtitle “Part I” because Loktev has nearly finished a second installment, which catches up with the women after they fled Russia.)

In its avoidance of interviews with experts or historians, the documentary offers a kind of personal scrapbook of Loktev’s subjects, showing what everyday life is like in an oppressive society: strikingly banal with a constant background hum of paranoia. Each woman comes into empathetic focus. Nemzer, who is a little older than her colleagues, balances her demanding job with marriage and motherhood. Meanwhile, her younger co-worker Ksenia Mironova keeps diligently filing stories despite her fiancé, journalist Ivan Safronov, being imprisoned for more than a year. (He would subsequently be sentenced to 22 years.) Investigative reporter Alesya Marokhovskaya has a girlfriend, whose face we never see, and eventually details grim memories of a violent childhood. And then there’s Marokhovskaya’s best friend and partner Irina Dolinina, who combats anxiety while her politically unconscious mother harangues her about not being able to find a man now that she’s been labeled a foreign agent.

The stress and uncertainty of these conversations is palpable but, remarkably, so is a spiky sense of humor. When a co-worker is temporarily locked up, Mironova cracks jokes outside his prison while awaiting his release. The journalists wear their foreign-agent designation as a badge of honor, mocking the comically lengthy disclaimer text they’re forced to run with their broadcasts, a pitch-black coping mechanism to make sense of their tense, surreal moment.

“My Undesirable Friends” captures dark times with some of the funniest people you’d ever hope to have as sisters-in-arms. Defiant, emotional and life-affirming, the film presents us with endearing patriots who love their country but hate its leaders, sucking us into a riveting tale with a powerful undertow.

The audience anticipates the frightening future that awaits these journalists, which makes their relentless advocacy all the more moving. If our 20s are a period of unbridled optimism — a hopefulness that slowly gets beaten out of us as we grow older — “My Undesirable Friends” stands as a touching display of the resilience of youth. There is nothing naive about these women who came of age during Putin’s cruel regime, but they nonetheless believe they can change things. While Loktev rarely inserts herself into this epic, we feel her admiration from behind the camera. The film inspires while it challenges: What were any of us doing at that age that was comparably heroic or meaningful? What are we doing now?

Those questions should stick in the craw of Americans who watch this masterwork. Loktev has made a movie about Russia but its themes spread far beyond that country’s borders. During a year in which the worst-case scenarios of a second Trump presidency have come to fruition, “My Undesirable Friends” contains plenty of echoes with our national news. The canceling of comedy shows, the baseless imprisonment of innocent people, the rampant transphobia: The Putin playbook is now this country’s day-to-day. Some may wish to avoid Loktev’s film because of those despairing parallels. But that’s only more reason to embrace “My Undesirable Friends.” Loktev didn’t set out to be a witness to history, but what she’s emerged with is an indispensable record and a rallying cry.