This review is part of Dmitriy’s coverage of the Climate Film Festival in New York.
Directed by Alina Simone
Entertainment: 3.5, Impact: TBD
2025 festival award-winner for DOCUMENTARY FEATURE
Many cinephiles will no doubt remember Erin Brockovich, the 2000 drama starring Julia Roberts about a community in California dealing with the health effects of contaminated groundwater. The ensuing lawsuit against PG&E attracted national headlines and a $333 million settlement for families, which at the time was one of the largest direct-action lawsuits in U.S. history.
Fast forward 20+ years and a few thousand miles across the Pacific Ocean and a similar story has been playing out in the remote Siberian city of Kiselyovsk – this time featuring Natalia Zubkova, affectionately dubbed the “Erin Brockovich of Russia.” (The real Erin Brockovich was also an executive producer of Black Snow).
Kiselyovsk, located about 500 kilometers (310 miles) north of the border shared between China, Mongolia and Kazakhstan, has a less flattering nickname – the “town with black snow.” The haunting source of the black snow is the nine (!!) open-pit coal mines that surround the town, continuously exposing the roughly 90,000 residents to toxic chemicals in their air and water.
Zubovka, a concerned mother of three, starts documenting the effects of the pollution on the town and the region of Kuzbass, which produces approximately 60% of Russia’s coal supply. She courageously adopts the mantle of citizen journalist by posting the videos on her site and building a local following. At one point, she and some fellow citizen activists discover that underground fires in some of the abandoned coal mines are causing methane to be released directly into people’s homes at concentrations high enough to give residents constant headaches. But when local officials continue to ignore the issue – including by falsely blaming the residents for the toxic gas – Zubovka takes matters into her own hands with an ingenious publicity stunt.
In a 2019 video that soon made international headlines, dozens of women from Kiselyovsk appealed to Canadian prime minister Justin Trudeau for asylum because of “unbearable conditions for life.” They chose Canada because “the climate there is similar to our region,” arguing that they “can become useful to Canada, because in Russia we have simply been forgotten and we feel here as superfluous, useless people.”
It’s this video that captured director Alina Simone’s attention and inspired her to travel to Siberia to document Zubovka’s story and the plight of her neighbors. Simone spent three weeks shadowing Zubovka and capturing footage for what would become her documentary debut, Black Snow, which included multiple run-ins with Russian authorities that made it clear they wanted them to stop. The pressure campaign escalated to the point that Zubovka was regularly subjected to online harassment and even threats against her life, eventually forcing her to flee to neighboring Georgia with her daughter.
It’s hard to watch such bravery and desperation and not be moved. Watching Black Snow almost made me choke in my seat – not just because of the powerful imagery but also because of how much it hit close to home. I was born about 400 kilometers (about 250 miles) from the site of the 1986 Chernobyl nuclear disaster that made much of the surrounding land uninhabitable. I was one of the lucky ones, emigrating to the United States a few years later with my family. But many people in that part of the former Soviet Union faced devastating health consequences, including an increased risk of cancer and birth deformities.
The people of Kiselyovsk and the surrounding region face similar risks, with multiple reports of children being born with kidney issues or developing breathing problems. But few have the option of escape. So, although Black Snow offers an inspiring story, it also presents a less than happy ending, especially considering the Russian government has continued to deny any responsibility for the pollution or the health of its residents.
For Simone, the film “asks hard questions about the real cost of ‘cheap energy’ and the dire sacrifices made by mining communities for its sake.”
Indeed, many mining communities around the world are being forced to confront similar questions. Even in areas with safety regulations and government support, mining communities can still find themselves feeling left behind, dealing with the legacy of contaminated air, soil and water. In the trade-off between industrial development and a healthy, thriving community, it’s residents who are always stuck holding the short straw. One only needs to look at the number of Superfund sites in the U.S. for an idea of the scale of a problem that will never truly go away.
“I hope Black Snow will expose how Russia’s slide into authoritarianism, coupled with an unrestrained mining industry, is creating an environmental catastrophe. But I hope it goes beyond that too. If a documentary film can do one great shining thing, it is to provide proof of our shared humanity,” says Simone about the potential impact of her film.
“To make a documentary, you have to be passionate about the person at the heart of your story, or about the people who are the story’s engine. That’s what I look for: ordinary people becoming superheroes.”
