Spoor

In a secluded stretch of the Klodzko Valley, where the Polish‑Czech border blurs into a dense tapestry of pine and mist, a tiny mountain village clings to its traditions amid the chill of high‑altitude winters. The rhythm of daily life is dictated by the call of birds, the scrape of hunting boots on frost‑hard ground, and the unspoken pact between the locals and the wild that surrounds them. An atmosphere of quiet resilience hangs over the stone cottages, while a subtle unease lingers, hinting that the forest may hold secrets older than the settlement itself.

At the heart of this remote community lives Janina Duszejko, a retired engineer whose methodical mind now turns to caring for her two beloved dogs and the fragile ecosystem they share. Her eccentric habits—charting celestial patterns, speaking softly to the creatures that roam the hills—set her apart, yet also bind her to the land she loves. When her dogs vanish without a trace, a ripple of concern spreads through the close‑knit village, drawing Duszejko into an uneasy dialogue with neighbours, hunters, and the few officials who patrol the area. Among them is Dobra Nowina, a pragmatic shopkeeper whose own quiet struggles echo the broader tensions between human ambition and the untamed world.

The film unfolds with a tone that balances lyrical naturalism and a creeping sense of dread. As Duszejko follows the faintest clues—unusual deer tracks, whispered rumors of unseen predators—the line between human culpability and something primal begins to blur. The story invites viewers to linger over the stark beauty of the mountains, the hushed conversations in modest homes, and the quiet determination of a woman who refuses to let the disappearance of her companions fade into the background. In a place where every rustle could be a warning, the mystery beckons, promising that the truth may be as elusive and wild as the forest itself.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 00:57