Flow

Before the "prison" episode, I met Vika. Back when I spent long hours sitting in the studio before moving into the Institute, I often saw a tall, stately nymph of extraordinary beauty darting back and forth. It was obvious she was there to talk with Ilya, and these meetings seemed endless. Vika was tall and slender, with an artistic gait and blonde hair like Marilyn Monroe’s; her eyebrows and lashes were different colors—black over one eye and white over the other. When she wore no makeup, I admired her immensely; I always dreamed of photographing her in her natural state. They said she was a ballerina in real life and had just arrived to take part in the filming.
They made her a buffet girl. By the time I first walked into the Institute's buffet in my blue, sack-like dress, she was already working there full-tilt. I asked her for something to eat. She sighed, then turned to the cooks in the kitchen and asked: "Vanya, I think we have some leftover soup from the day before yesterday. Could you pour some for this girl?" Or something to that effect.
At that very moment, a guest or a prominent Institute employee arrived, and she treated him entirely differently, insisting that the cooks prepare something fresh and delicious—I don’t recall exactly what. I felt a childish, stinging resentment. But just then, the scientist Alexey Blinov offered me a peach, offering some encouragement, and the sting faded a little.
Then came a "fixation" (filming) in Dau and Nora's apartment. It was me and Katya (this was before she left in tears forever). Dau gave us perfume and rings, trying to cheer us up. He asked us to walk around the house in beautiful chemises instead of those "sacks" and ordered us to set the table in his room because a female guest was coming. I was intrigued—who was this guest?
Shortly after, Victoria arrived in a beautiful floral dress that contrasted sharply with the dead "Sovok" (Soviet aesthetic) surrounding us. They sequestered themselves in his room; Nora had gone somewhere, and Katya was nowhere to be found. I lay down on the sofa. I remembered all my resentments, the recent death of my beloved cat, and I began to cry. Immediately, a "fixation" team appeared. They filmed me sobbing for a while.
Dau and Victoria continued their time together in his room. I even crept up quietly to peek at what they were doing. They were just sitting and talking, but Victoria had already taken off her beautiful dress; she sat in a chemise, conversing with Dau in a heartfelt way. There was something so warm and human, rather than doll-like, in their interaction that I felt ashamed for spying. I felt even more inadequate than before.
As I look further into my memories, I find myself on Dau's bed, giving Victoria a massage (and stealing a touch for Dau, because "I love him"), alongside Katya, who was massaging Dau. Later, Dau and Vika walked naked around the apartment without any embarrassment; Dau took showers constantly and demanded the same from everyone. My soul felt heavy; I felt alienated and talentless, unable to join this "flow of life."
However, Victoria briefly dispelled my gloom. She paid attention to me, inviting me to sit and have some wine with her. We sat somewhere near Dau's bed, drinking and talking heart-to-heart. I was touched by Victoria’s attention. I don’t even remember if it was being filmed or not.
I also remember a time when Victoria and Ekaterina were gone, and only the three of us remained: Dau, Nora, and I. Dau demanded that I cheer Nora up—after all, I was her housekeeper. "Go to her with this mirror, hold it up to her face to show her how beautiful she is," he said. Years later, in Paris, I saw these scenes on a small screen during that night I spent in a booth with all the digital material of the project. From the outside, it looks quite erotic and intriguing: a fragile, nearly naked maid, from whom her employers expect... something. But it’s unclear what the point of it all was.
After all those scenes, I went to sleep on my metal spring bed in the room with Nora’s wardrobe, and I dreamed of Jürges’s large camera "fixing" me. Or maybe it wasn't entirely a dream; who knows... Waking up, I saw the sun already blazing and heard the footsteps on the coarse gravel of two guards protecting the Institute's peace—middle-aged but tall, stately men. I felt a sense of bliss from being protected, from the fact that I didn't have to do anything or make any difficult decisions, and I slept some more.
Then there was something else. Nora and Dau went on vacation, and in their place came the scientist Nikita with his family. Many times, while Nikita was there, Inna would call me and say: "Anya, please go to the Office." I spent many nights at the studio, waiting for permission to finally return to my bed, to which I had already grown accustomed.
Once, I was asked to come from the Office to D2 to tell Nikita something. I entered and found Nikita and Zoya (not his wife) in the living room about to make love, and it was all being filmed. Perhaps I could have come up with something interesting to create some "action" in the frame, but my imagination was dormant that night. Besides, I don't know how to act—I only know how to live through things. If something doesn't match my inner feeling, I don't go there; I hate anything forced. So this time, the incitement to "play along" failed.
My parents also visited after the "prison" episode. They were driving to Crimea and decided to stop by to see what their daughter was up to. Before their arrival, Inna asked: "Well, should I tell your mother that you were in jail?" I replied: "Absolutely not, she’d never let me hear the end of it."
My parents were quite satisfied, looking at all the artistic sketches and the endless pictures of people in period costumes lining the walls of the first floor. They saw the vast wardrobe in Department K, the makeup and prop rooms, and all the young, creative, passionate people working on the second floor. They didn't bother changing clothes to see the sets; they were in a hurry to continue their trip. They didn't worry about me anymore.
Later, after they had left, Khrzhanovsky's "DAU" gave them another sign in Crimea. There, on a sunny beach, they met and struck up a conversation with people their age who turned out to be the parents of Katya—Ilya’s girlfriend, whom he had met on the project and who worked for him.
Meanwhile, Vika and I were "storming" the accounting department to get at least a small advance. That time, it was relatively easy. Shortly after, I informed Vera that I wanted a vacation (the 1956 filming block had ended by then). She said she would speak with Ilya, and soon I was racing back to Moscow, and then to the countryside for a few days, where I finally managed to properly refresh myself.