Where Are We Headed

In Moscow, everything and everyone comes together in the underground corridors of the subway. An accordionist dressed as Santa Claus talks to a troubled passenger about Dostoevsky, the universe, and the Russian soul; partygoers sing in the New Year with gusto; and a vendor tries in vain to sell his giant balloons. Against background music of screeching and clanking train noises, we voyeuristically witness all kinds of events, from details such as a flashing light bulb or a sleeping child, to a spontaneous dance with a street musician or a fiery political discussion.

The Moscow Metro corridors are like a society without daylight, a no-man’s-land in which it hardly seems to matter where anyone is headed. The stations, with their marble walls and gold light fixtures, form the perfect theatrical backdrop for the tragicomedy that seems be constantly unfolding, with cameo appearances by the colorful transit passengers.