A poignant, visual requiem for a place that is nearing the end of its days – as well as for the ghosts of the past that inhabit it. Somewhere at the end of the world, in the picturesque scenery of the Caucasian valley, the monumental Abastumani tuberculosis hospital is falling to pieces. The exaggerated interiors of the crumbling but still impressive building are home to dozens of patients who kill time by smoking cigarettes, strolling endless corridors and partying in halls decorated with stylized lighting. Everything here seems to induce detachment from reality – including the dulling side effects of drugs. Outside of time, the surreal atmosphere of this place is emphasized by swaying shots proffering an oneiric energy to the whole. Or that of a nightmare, because despite the fairy-tale feel, the sick are often in real danger here. 

Konrad Wirkowski