Nina Volova's comedy drama 'Fireworks by Day' won the award in the 'Best Debut' category at the 'Mayak' film festival. Read about one of the main treasures of the festival held in Gelendzhik in our article.

According to the plot of 'Fireworks by Day', Viktor's (Alexander Robak) business selling chandeliers and lamps has long stopped generating profit for shareholders. To save the invested funds and prevent the company from going bankrupt, his business partner Weihong (Wang Bin) flies to Russia from China. Realistically assessing the situation, the foreigner realized that the only way out of the current situation is to confiscate Vitya's house to pay off the debt. However, his daughters—Russian tutor Olya (Daria Konyzheva), life-waster Lena (Masha Raskina), and beatmaker Toma (Vera Engalycheva)—disagree with this scenario.

Among the vast multitude of films whose leitmotif is the clash of different mentalities, 'Fireworks by Day' stands out primarily because the director avoided stereotypical depictions of both Chinese and Russians. Nina Volova has created a Chekhovian laconic, biting, but absolutely good-natured feuilleton, filled with light irony and not directed against anyone. Unlike, say, 'Peculiarities of the National Hunt' by Alexander Rogozhkin, where white-hot absurdity went hand in hand with an almost documentary study of identity, the dramedy with Robak has neither. Nevertheless, the film contains a number of quite accurate observations about the contrast between the worldview of the characters.

If the Chinese Weihong, played by Wang Bin (undoubtedly the main discovery of the last 'Mayak' among actors), is exceptionally rational and pragmatic, then the domestic failed businessman Viktor seems not aimed at achieving high results at all. Despite his company being on the verge of bankruptcy and himself up to his ears in debt, he continues to keep employees who do not perform their duties conscientiously or have long passed retirement age. His enterprise is unprofitable, partly because it is held together by a gentleman's agreement, friendly ties, and the famous Russian 'avos' (maybe it'll work out). And this is not so much about humanism or generosity of spirit, but about favoritism and unwillingness to change anything.

Along with this, Alexander Robak's character, despite his dire financial situation, still tries to live large, generously showering his daughters and mistresses with money. Circumstances, of course, force him to gradually part with the attributes of former luxury, which he generally does, until the question of selling the house arises, provoking discord in the family. One cannot shake the feeling that 'Fireworks by Day' is an updated paraphrase of 'The Cherry Orchard', where crisis manager Weihong is a reincarnation of the progressive merchant Lopakhin. True, with the only difference that in Anton Pavlovich's work, the generational conflict was diametrically opposite: the old people opposed the deal, while the youth saw no point in preserving the noble nest. Incidentally, Volova's film, just like Chekhov's play, was woven from the author's personal memories.

The best thing about 'Fireworks by Day' is the brilliant (sorry, the author couldn't resist a pun) development of the characters' personalities, which is rare for a feature debut. The portraits of all the characters, including episodic ones, are painted not with broad strokes, but with each given distinctive individual traits. What can I say, even the father's mistress, who initially gives the impression of a silly girl susceptible to social status, is given the opportunity to go beyond the walking cliché and show herself from an unexpected noble side. This, perhaps, is the main charm of the film: there are no characters for whom the viewer would not feel sympathy.

Occasionally, debutante Volova allows herself to deviate from elegant Chekhovian irony and insert witticisms that are more characteristic of popular entertainment comedies than of auteur cinema. For example, in the plot, the divorced Weihong, by fate, ends up on a date with a girl who begins the acquaintance with financial demands to her partner, to which the bewildered Chinese tells her that he has never used escort services before. Then, offended by this comparison, the lady gives the guest from China a mini-lecture that sex work and being a kept woman are by no means identical terms. This sketch, of course, is redundant and hackneyed, but not too alien to spoil the overall picture.

Closer to the finale, Wang Bin's character fades into the background, along with the mocking tone, the inevitable notes of grotesque, and the optics of a foreigner who is bewildered by things and situations familiar to us. The focus shifts to the three sisters who opposed their father to defend the house where they grew up. Passions gradually heat up: the patriarch of the family, as punishment for his rebellious children, drains the pool (though he later fills it again, but for his passion), and the girls try to gain economic freedom by putting their father's gifts up for sale.

But when the boiling point becomes extreme and the flame of conflict almost separates the family forever, Nina Volova, predictably, extinguishes it with water. The characters come to understand that home is something more than four walls, a roof, a billiard room, a sauna, and a pool. Instead of the distant, as if from the sky, sound of a broken string on which Chekhov's epochal play ended, the viewer hears the roar of fireworks launched, of course, in broad daylight.