The Cranes Are Flying

In the soft glow of a pre‑war Moscow sunrise, Veronika and Boris meet beside the river, their conversation drifting like the cranes that glide overhead. Their shy promises to reunite before he must answer the call to the front capture a tender, almost reverent mood that threads through the first moments of the film. The city itself feels both ordinary and portentous, its streets humming with daily life while an unseen storm gathers on the horizon, hinting at the deep, bittersweet currents that will soon sweep through their world.

As the inevitable conflict erupts, the film shifts to a landscape scarred by uncertainty, where the rhythm of everyday existence is broken by air‑raid sirens and the quiet desperation of letters sent across distant battle lines. Veronika finds herself navigating a new reality, clinging to the fragments of hope left behind in a small, hand‑crafted token and the words tucked within it. The tone remains lyrical and intimate, painting the war’s impact not as a distant spectacle but as an intimate intrusion into the private hearts of those left behind.

Seeking shelter from the turmoil, Veronika takes refuge with Boris’s family, an arrangement that introduces new relational dynamics and subtle tensions. Among them is Mark, a close relative whose presence adds another layer of complexity to the delicate balance of affection, loyalty, and survival. The household becomes a microcosm of a nation trying to maintain its humanity amid loss, where simple gestures—shared meals, quiet conversations, the occasional glance at the sky—carry the weight of unspoken longing.

Throughout, the film’s visual language sways between the starkness of war‑torn streets and the lingering beauty of Moscow’s riverbanks, where the cranes return like quiet witnesses to a love that endures despite the surrounding chaos. The mood is both hopeful and melancholy, inviting viewers to feel the quiet resilience of those who keep love alive even when the world around them is falling apart.

Last Updated: August 20, 2025 at 17:49