The handling of cameras in the trench at ground level is impressive. After his father Grigory's overwhelming farewell in port, full of philosophical advice rather than tears, naval sailor Stepan Polosukhin is frozen with fear; practically - as the commander said - in his baptism of fire, under the German cannon shots that flank his ship, he receives with rudder in hands, his elusive destiny to the saga of fate as a shadow, to the elements like any mortal being facing the sea , the enemy and uncertainty. This is a somewhat rudimentary artifact because it does not use the classic format of cinematographic techniques, although it is very reminiscent of Karl Ritter's camera tracking and panning; an easel tinged with nostalgia first of all; Stepan is one of those who savors the sea and in his cadence that memory, extracts the fioto of his bearded father; a companion of his plays plaintively on the accordion: "..lay on the boulevard, gray-haired gypsy, the sailor was called by paradise , a beautiful mattress, a gift, I will tell you the fate of a sailor, touched the sailor by divination, I will tell you about the sailor, to serve from China..."; but the film is at the same time a mirror of uncertainty -due to its moment of filming- instead of ideological or warlike convictions. An expressionism is almost achieved in that sequence of the assault in the fray, without batteries or light, which begins in the 27th minute of the film and until Stepan meets Vera again, the girl who they saved from the shipwreck on the way to Sebastopol and who, by escorting her, to their home, they confirmed a peeling property without a roof from the bombing. Stepan will be taken prisoner, interrogated, the German soldier gives him 3 minutes to respond but Stepan spits in his face. The entire sequence of the Soviet army's assault is simply superb, taking the fortress and at the same time rescuing Stepan, between shots and shouting in the dark, the bursts of the shooting illuminate the darkened atmosphere of the interiors and in the background the soundtrack is from the unjustly not acclaimed chamber composer Dmitry Klebanov. As he falls asleep, dreaming about his father telling him about his grandfather, he confirms the argument about the incalculable fortune of being natives of the Black Sea, "they can't break us, they can't break us," says Grigory proudly.
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