It Was In May

The film opens with wartime newsreel footage, framing the setting as the war ends. This prologue hints at memory and loss rather than immediate action. It primes the audience for the moral questions to come.

In May 1945, a group of Soviet reconnaissance soldiers takes up temporary residence on Rashke's farm. Rashke appears friendly and servile toward the soldiers, while his wife and teenage son watch warily. The uneasy coexistence foreshadows what the soldiers will learn about the past.

Rashke presents a genial facade toward the troops, but his wife and son sleep in a different home each night. The nightly separation hints at a deeper tension between the occupiers and Rashke's household. The dynamic colors the atmosphere on the farm.

Nikolaev crashes his motorcycle on the way to a nearby town and is helped by fellow soldiers stationed in an abandoned mansion. They spend the day together, sharing memories of the war and dreams of life after its end. The gathering offers the soldiers a window into ordinary life beyond combat.

That night the soldiers wander into a deserted concentration camp and confront its silent barracks and dark corridors. The eerie structures evoke the magnitude of the victims' suffering. Their behavior is haunted as they move through the space.

In a room with unusually thick walls, large furnaces, and ceiling vents, they speculate it was a boiler room. The speculative moment underscores questions about how such spaces were used. The claustrophobic setting amplifies the memory's weight.

The next day back at the farm, Rashke's son accuses one soldier of killing a pig, triggering anger among the group. Nikolaev intervenes to calm everyone and prevent a riot. The incident reveals how war memories simmer beneath the surface.

The accused soldier is revealed to be a survivor of a village burned to the ground. Nikolaev tries to de-escalate the growing tension and protect his men. The revelation deepens the moral complexity of the soldiers' duties.

Three emaciated former camp prisoners appear as Rashke and his family leave for the evening. Their presence confronts the soldiers with the truth of the prisoners' fates. Stefan, one of the prisoners, begins to recount the horrors tied to Rashke's past actions.

Stefan describes how Katarzyna was forced to work for Rashke until exhaustion and madness, ultimately leading to her execution in the camp. He details gas chambers and crematoriums, and the ashes spread over the fields. The tale personalizes the atrocity and links Rashke to the machinery of oppression.

A German engineer prisoner recalls his wife receiving a bill to pay for the state expenses of her brother's execution. He bitterly laments the betrayal of ordinary Germans by their government. The anecdote adds a bitter edge to the prisoners' recollections.

Another German prisoner mutters in German about guard dogs, muffled by memories of the past. The moment underscores the persistence of fear and trauma. It reinforces the sense that history cannot be easily contained.

The soldiers attempt to capture Rashke, but he disappears, vanishing into the night. The event leaves them to confront the war's lingering horrors without a clear reckoning. It highlights the elusiveness of accountability when memory is so powerful.

The film closes with peaceful postwar city scenes, offering a quiet contrast to the grim memories. The serene images remind viewers that life goes on, even as trauma lingers. Sonny Bono's Mama provides a poignant musical backdrop to this transition.

The credits feature an arrangement of Sonny Bono's Mama by Paul Mauriat, underscoring the bittersweet ending. The song emphasizes memory's echo after the war and the distance between peace and trauma. The combination of image and music highlights memory's enduring pull.