“They call me a scumbag, but they haven’t seen the film”. Russian teacher who filmed his school’s descent into propaganda during the war now showing the film at Sundance

How did you first hear about Pavel, and why did you decide to take on this film?

David. As it’s shown in the film, a casting call reached me—somehow. And when I learned about Pasha, and his desires, and what he wanted to show in his school, I was really inspired by it. For me, there was some trepidation, because I don’t speak Russian. But I had worked in China for 10 years, filming in various institutions there, and had some experience about the logistics of filming in institutions. And also, I felt a very strong connection with Pasha and what he was trying to say, felt the need to help him and center his perspective. I decided to do whatever I could and use my experience to help him tell his story.

What about the ethical concerns—filming children who didn’t know where this footage would end up?

Pavel. That’s true—no one knew this was going to be a film. But 90% of the footage was originally shot for the Russian Ministry of Education, as part of official reports.

After I left, people from Karabash called me, saying, “Why are you using our children in the film?” And I said, “Hang on—when we sent this footage to the ministry, wasn’t it used there too?”

I was just doing my job, filming lessons. You can’t walk into a classroom and say, “Right, comrade, I’m filming your lesson now.” No, I was required to film these lessons for reporting purposes.

And let’s be clear—when children enrol in school, their parents sign consent forms allowing the processing of personal data. Essentially, by enrolling, they were already agreeing to this. Here’s how it usually works: say there’s an event or an exhibition—I’m supposed to gather all participants, hand out forms for parents to sign, and collect them later. But in many Russian schools, they simplify the process: at the start of the academic year, parents sign a blanket consent form covering everything—exhibitions, photographs, publications. Everything.

David, as an experienced documentary filmmaker, what’s your take on this?

David. In the beginning, when it comes to security and ethics, I knew that there was not any one person that could make a decision on this. I felt over my head, and I don't think Pasha knew the answers either. So, we decided to try to get the most professional kind of advice and feedback that we could. One of the first things that I did on this project was show the material and give the idea to the BBC, to the commissioning editor at the show Storyville. And she said, okay, let’s do this together and let’s put it through the BBC editorial process. And so, from the very beginning, we were working with them on security and ethical issues and we kind of outsourced it to them. The final cut of our film is approved by them. And there were editorial and imperative news reasons that we landed on for being able to use this material with the kids. Also, there was this dilemma in that giving any kind of permission forms in this situation could put them at much more risk. Because of all these considerations and through getting the feedback from the BBC, we decided to do it the way we did it.

I must add that in order to get the most precise possible answer to this question it would need to be asked to the editorial policy at BBC and potentially the producers. Because they were the ones handling getting this through the editorial process. So what me and Pasha tell you is really second hand.

Pavel. They didn’t know this would be a film. That’s just the truth. But let’s be honest—has anyone ever asked [Vitaly] Mansky whether the North Korean children in Under the Sun were told they were starring in a documentary? Did anyone question him about that? No. Getting information in an authoritarian regime isn’t easy. If I had walked into a classroom and said, “Listen, I’m filming a documentary about how Putin is forcing you to teach these lessons,” what do you think would have happened? What kind of lesson would I have been able to film? Of course not.

What was your role in the filming process?

David. I played no role. Our collaboration was very clean: I handled post-production and editing, and Pasha was shooting.

Did you influence the filming in any way? Did you discuss creative decisions?

David. I tried throughout the process to give some feedback to Pasha on, perhaps, storylines to follow or extra things to film that could accentuate these storylines. But in general, I look at this footage that was delivered to me and I think it really represents Pasha’s will to record what he wanted to record. A lot of my impact on the film comes from the structuring of the story, the voiceover, and the way we portray Pasha’s character. But that kind of operates more through the writing than the footage itself.

Pavel. I can add something here. It was the Russian Ministry of Education who directed the footage. That, I can say with certainty. The filming instructions they sent were something to envy—detailed down to the minute, every lesson, every presentation, scripted. When the teacher should speak, where the children should look, how they should react. They even provided a full shot list. So, in a way, I have to thank them—they made my job easier.

David. I think what impressed me most was something that Pasha maybe didn’t see in the beginning. Pasha was really interested in showing the world what was happening at his school. For me, when I saw it I was just so impressed with Pasha himself, his bravery and his commitment to the truth. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who is so committed to the truth. A year and a half ago, he said, “I promise I’m going to make this film with you.” And then when I met him in person I was like, “Oh man, I can’t believe you actually follow through with this.” And then he said, “Of course! I promised.” He’s someone that really cares about the truth and is willing to be very brave to pursue it. That impressed me and I wanted to make his story front and center. And then beyond that I was so interested in the idea of having a true collaboration with Pasha.

And I’m from Florida. There are actually similar trends in schools there. Of course, not as extreme, but there are similar trends. And for me, I look at the complicity of everybody around me, not standing up to what’s happening. So it really touched me, Pasha’s story, to also be in a situation where there’s so much complicity all around him, but willing to be someone who stands up and does something really bold. Just make your voice heard and point out that something is wrong here. That really affected me deeply.

How did American audiences react to the film?

David. What’s so special about the film here at Sundance?.. The film to me is the collaboration between me and Pasha. And I think everything that the film is—is a result of the bold decision for us to collaborate. It was a leap of faith for me to make a film with Pasha—and even bigger leap of faith for him to make a film with me, someone from abroad that he doesn’t even know. But I think that, because we took it so seriously to combine our perspectives in a true and genuine way, there are many different dimensions and levels to this film The film can be interpreted through Pasha’s eyes and what Pasha wanted to say, which is to illustrate what’s happening in Russia and talk about the situation of the Russian people. But I was all about the universal idea of Pasha’s story and the universal theme of complicity in the wake of a system changing in a way that you cannot accept. And the reaction here at Sundance is very much about looking at both of these perspectives. You have some Russians that are really reacting to things that Pasha put in the film and then you have Americans who are drawing parallels to the American situation..

Every single person that I speak to here in Sundance, Americans who watch the film but also Europeans, when we see Pasha’s office where all the students hang out and we see the kind of relationship that he has with his students—we all know that teacher. We all know that person who created a space for students in our school. As Pasha says in the film, his classroom is the land of democracy. It’s a place where you can be free, exchange thoughts, and not conform to something from national culture.

And so in Florida, where I’m from, right now—it’s just one example, this is happening all over the States, but Florida is famous because it happened a little earlier there—our governor Ron DeSantis started doing these things a few years ago… There’s book bannings, there’s new restrictions on what teachers are allowed to say in classrooms, and there’s an attempt by various politicians to root out everything but one type of thought in school. And everybody here at Sundance that’s American is telling me about this. They really see it in their own context and they look at it as a universal story, more than a Russian story.

What kind of impact do you think this film will have?

David. Very early to say. We’ve only just premiered the film, and also I’ve only been able to see the reaction of an American audience. Of course, we will bring it elsewhere in the world, and it will air on TV, and go to other festivals. So we get to see other contexts. But in the American context people find it very inspiring and it makes people think about their own complicity in bearing witness to the systems around them become corrupted, but not doing anything. I also hope that that Russians can watch it and reflect on what’s happening in their own country. But I think Pasha is better at responding to that aspect.

Thank you very much. That’s all the questions I had for David. The rest are mainly for Pavel. How did you go from taking part in the Leader of the 21st Century competition to making an anti-war film?

Pavel. If you’re a young teacher in Russia, you have to understand that no one gives a damn whether you want to take part in that competition or not. You just go. That’s it. That’s exactly what happened to me.

My category was the last one. There were loads of participants. So while we were travelling, and then while I was sitting there watching all the other contestants—for about four hours straight—I had plenty of time to prepare. In fact, I arrived completely unprepared, if I’m honest. But I still won. Can you believe it?

Since the war began, everything has changed, and I’ve changed completely too. I remember the first day, when the war began—it drove me mad, I kept going up to my headteacher saying, “How can you say this? How can you support this?” And she just said, “Take a few days off, have a rest.” So they gave me a few days off... but from the beginning of the war, everything changed drastically.

If you’ve seen the film, you’ll know I handed in my resignation. That’s completely true. And by the time I went back, I already knew I was making a film.

It seemed to me that you were truly passionate about your work and wanted to build a career in education. But in the end, you had to give it all up. How did that transformation happen?

Pavel. It’s really difficult. You can’t imagine what a breaking point that was. We used to travel for KVN, [a major Russian comedy contest], we competed everywhere, we won first prizes. We loved it—it was an incredible time. Then suddenly, that was over, and inside, I broke completely. I was shattered.

How did the filming process work?

Pavel. The Russian Ministry of Education would send orders that certain lessons had to be filmed. My deputy head for educational work would tell me, “Go and record it.” So I would.

I filmed with two cameras. One was high quality, the other was worse. The lower-quality footage—that’s what I sent to the ministry, completely unedited. The better-quality one—the one that captured the sound properly and so on—I saved to a hard drive.

At the very beginning, when we started working together, David wrote to me, saying: “Can you set up a camera and film yourself at home?” That was what really interested him—how I was experiencing all of this, how I was feeling. But for me, what mattered was showing what was happening. So I kept asking, “Seriously? Why should I film myself at home? What for?” I’m just not like that, I only capture what’s happening. But later, I thought—actually, maybe this is for the best.

At school, I ran a filmmaking club. The kids knew how to film, and some of them even made reports for local TV. Say, for example, I had to record an event, like a ceremony for the new first-years. I had to film it, but I was also on stage—I couldn’t record myself. So, of course, I asked the kids for help, and they walked around filming. Sometimes other teachers who were free would step in and help too.

How did you leave Russia? I don’t need the details, but in general—was it nerve-wracking? Was it dangerous?

Pavel. It was extremely nerve-wracking, extremely. You have no idea how much. I had seven hard drives. Just imagine! All of them in my bag, along with my laptop. I put the bag on the security belt, and they could see the hard drives. I thought, “Jesus, she’s going to ask me now. Are you even a proper Soviet citizen? You’re flying to Turkey with a return ticket and this many hard drives?” I acted as if nothing was happening, but I was terrified.

How did your family react to your departure?

Pavel. I told them I was leaving, but they didn’t realise it could be for good. Now, they probably suspect. They had no idea a film was being made—nobody did.

Was it difficult to leave your school, your students, your colleagues?

Pavel. Yes. No matter how good or bad things were, these were my colleagues, my friends—I can’t say a single bad word about them. Even those who went along with the [propaganda] lessons... I understand why, it’s because we’ve become so completely resigned to everything that we don’t even question it anymore.

That’s how it works. Why do so many teachers follow that idiot Bokhan? Because after a while, you stop knowing what’s real and what isn’t. The country has become so absurd that you just get used to it. They send you a script? You go up and recite it. They tell you to film something? You set up the camera and record...

Yes, leaving the city was painful. Leaving my family, my colleagues. I love that place, really, love the city, and I love everyone in the world.

How did your former students and colleagues react to the film?

Pavel. Mixed. Some called me scum. Others said that this is important for all of us, thank you. Different commentary. But I should point out—they haven’t seen the film. They’re all afraid, uncertain, they lack information. They can’t watch it. The truth is, it’s actually a film about love for our Homeland. If they could just watch it, it would be so much easier for them.

What do you think about the online harassment?

Pavel. What is there to think? They call me a scumbag—but they haven’t seen the film. They call me a traitor—but on whose authority? Vladimir Putin’s? I am no traitor of my homeland. I love my country, love my people, love my city. I hope to return one day. The film is about love, you know? They just don’t know that yet. They can only sit there and say: “What a load of crap he’s filmed, pouring out all this garbage.”

Can you describe the actual effect of all this propaganda on children? Do they really become Putin fanatics?

Pavel. Honestly, I wouldn’t even try to give a definitive answer. I know some children buy into it, and some don’t. But we also have to understand that there’s a particular aspect of childhood development—especially in primary school—where everything the teacher says is taken as the truth.

What kind of impact do you hope this film will have on viewers?

Pavel. I’d like them to see it as important. A film that captures this moment in time. Not the whole picture, of course—I’m not claiming that. But I’ve shown how it really works from the inside.

What are your plans now?

Pavel. Right now? I just want a cup of coffee. Beyond that—who knows? Every time I think about the future, I start feeling down. Then I tell myself: “Why are you worrying about something that hasn’t even happened yet?” That calms me down for a bit, but then I start thinking about it again. And journalists keep asking me about it.

It’s hard to talk about the future when you don’t believe in it. What can I even say? I want to live at home. I want to speak my own language. I want to be with my friends, celebrate the same holidays, find joy in the same little things. But I can’t do any of that.

Editors: Dmitry Golubovsky, Dmitry Tkachev