When Time Breaks Like Glass: The Sleep of Reason

Aleksandr Akhmedov’s The Sleep of Reason opens like a whisper you’re not sure you heard until it becomes a murmur you can’t shake. Centered on a weary poet stalked by his own prophetic dreams, the film approaches fate not as a grand myth but as a quiet intruder, slipping through the cracks of memory. What would any of us do if tomorrow’s obituary kept visiting us at night? Akhmedov seems to ask the question with an unblinking steadiness.

Visually, the film carries the composure of someone who has studied nightmares closely. The cinematography drifts between crisp realism and a hazy, dream-thick atmosphere, letting scenes feel both anchored and gently dislocated. The sound design deepens that sensation distant echoes, brittle whispers, the kind of audio details that make you lean in rather than sit back. Production and set design work in tandem to make the protagonist’s hometown feel like a place caught between centuries, as if history itself is reluctant to leave.

What’s striking for a debut is the sheer confidence in the directing. Akhmedov doesn’t rush, doesn’t over-explain, and doesn’t apologize for wandering into the borderlands of the surreal. The pacing, especially in the film’s middle stretch, trusts the viewer to follow the poet’s unraveling without guide rails. A broad variety of locations keeps the journey textured and unpredictable, shifting the story’s mood like a barometer swinging before a storm.

Still, the film stumbles early on: the first few minutes mimic the rhythm of a trailer, all impression and no footing, as if the movie is trying to convince us to watch itself. And the wardrobe too crisp, too freshly unboxed sometimes betrays the film’s otherwise lived-in world. In a story steeped in decay, secrets, and old wounds, spotless clothing shows its seams.

Yet these are minor fissures in an otherwise compelling vision. The Sleep of Reason emerges as an assured, atmospheric, and surprisingly bold first short, an excellent debut that suggests Akhmedov is already dreaming well beyond the edges of sleep.