Vermelho Russo: not to belittle the experience portrayed here, but Charly Braun’s film does little to make anything related to it particularly enticing. Struggling to find footing, it ends not being about the hardships of a long stay in a strange land, the process of acting, Moscow or friendship, even thought it breezes through all those things as if ticking checkboxes. The same shallowness is used to define the characters; they are undistinguishable until a pair of clunky exposition scenes. Martha Nowill and Maria Manoella are OK, but are unable to make anything out of the material. Alexandre Samori´s camerawork is unattractive, presenting itself as a documentary.