For better or worse, Dust embodies the essence of post-90s Russia. It overly overindulges with said mood. Almost exults in it, to the extent that this tone becomes the film's only noteworthy feature. That atmosphere is indeed impeccable, capturing the uncertainty of the times alongside an unyielding delirium that suggests nothing really changed or that it will ever get better.
Unfortunately, the purpose for which the movie uses this atmosphere is inherently tricky to appreciate. The story boldly proclaims that we are just stupid apes on a rock in space, or I guess in this case, specs of dust, that are trapped in governmental apparatus. Small people are not allowed to have their dreams or hopes. However, all of that, in contrast, is a moot point for our protagonist. Who does not care that this mirror body isn't real or that he may disintegrate if he enters the booth too many times. In the end, the narrative presents a quirky existential dread that does little more than flail violently in its smug proclamation of how pointless this existence is. Let me delineate real quick - this existence, in this country, at this time. Trust me, if the makers were situated in any other nation, they would be singing a different tune.
The acting in this movie has that virtuoso, unnatural, ethereal quality, where each character seems to act as a spoof of various types of individuals one might encounter in 2000s Russia. Everyone exhibits a rough, disheveled appearance. It's practically comical that the movie implies that the main character is only 24 years old.
The sound design does the heavy lifting in terms of making scenes feel uncanny. Constant unnerving blaring and squeaky sounds make every scene equivalent to some lucid nightmare. Additionally, the use of fisheye close-ups enhances this disorienting effect.
It may be difficult to relate to anything depicted in the story, but I think even for people who lived through it, finding relatability in Alexei's bleak quest for a semblance of control in his life can be perplexing.
