What they need is a peaceful Eastern-Central Europe. Where there is no conflict, where they can be together. Since it is a region with such a beautiful and special atmosphere. There are fields, mountains, valleys, woods, rivers and lakes here. Among them tiny little villages and towns, where Slavic, Hungarian and Romanian human cultures blossom. Living side by side amidst lots of small conflicts. The roots are common, although they originate from different places. But if once they can really be together, they might preserve this uniquely fascinating, ancient phenomenon. It is true, though, that the essence of this wonderful universe is that it is preserved by itself. At least in their mind. Although it is becoming harder and harder to believe in it. Modern civilisation can only touch what regularly gives birth to warm clumsiness. The charm of underdevelopment. There are asphalt roads, but it is mainly herds of sheep strolling along them, maybe accompanied with a straying hen or goose. Wires are everywhere, but wells, candles and ovens are indispensable. Fashionable accessories appear as funny decorations on shabby outfits. The news of the media infiltrates in pub talks. True emotions diminish into dance steps, deep thoughts into loveable craze. Ordinary life is but haggard sorrow and doubt. Yet, no one can decide what is better: to escape here or from here. And this is it. That is what they are going to have, even if they can live in peace together. At least in the mind. Gaudy poverty, evergreen and utter boredom … Though it may not be easy to believe in it. Or maybe they do not have to. Because after all freedom is the most important thing. Without it they cannot be together. As long as they are controlled from the Headquarters through the shabby president of the local council called Dragan, they can do nothing but drink the wine of the swapping bar-keeper. And bluster. Since they can do it together for freedom. But that will always give birth to new Headquarters. Freedom is good if it is born freely. Then all of a sudden a truck driver turns up and brings the news about freedom, which pours all over them. Inconceivably and incomprehensibly. And suddenly they can do whatever they like. It would be great to be together in freedom. In a situation when they do not need to escape or overcome one another … if they could all believe in freedom. Anyhow, they need a gang. Where more than two of them can be together. Say, Radi, Ladu and Rika. Not for the beloved football field or the idea, but for football itself. Just for the sake of it. Sitting on hilltops, belonging together and waiting. Waiting for something to happen, because they can do things together. Perhaps mourning over the death of an old friend together or sending a forged letter with the intention to help. There are no real assignments. Or at least they are not given to gangs. And yet, it is great to be together. Just because it is great. Even without faith.

Of course, love is a truly fantastic thing. Two people together, never torn apart. Even if they live separately, like the bar-keeper's wife Lina and the chainsaw lumberjack Siniak. The man has been silent since they departed, tenaciously waiting for the moment. When everything is accomplished and comes true. When they two can be together again. A great moment, singular, never to be repeated. So it is worth tasting the moment several times while waiting, exchanging glances or acting it once or twice. Dashing unexpectedly into the wedding anniversary of the beloved woman, having a fabulous dance with her, then returning home. And eventually, the bells really toll, they find each other for a true, cathartic and brief moment. But the end is already knocking on the door. But if the reason were that the story itself was coming to end, there would be no problem, since happiness could be burning until eternity. At least in their mind. But if the story intends to continue, it will either degrade love into an ordinary place and time or quickly destroy it, even at the expense of the lovers' life. The story cannot really handle Siniak and his love. Therefore the man is tossed into an abyss out of purely fatuous coincidence. Lina can be mourning for him until her death, she can even turn dumb for pain; this is not the feeling of love any more, but a mere demonstration. There is no point in it. What remains is the cinema. The magic which is thought to be a saviour. The place where they can at least occasionally be together. Because where could they spend Sunday afternoons, if not there? Especially in a little Central Eastern European village. Going to the cinema is the greatest event, the highest joy. And if the delivery of films stops for some reason, life simply fails to continue. Because movie is real life. The most disturbing experiences are born here, roles to be followed can be seen here, events worth considering take place here. Although they may not have anything to do with reality. But what has reality to do with anyone who lets their energy be wasted? Of course, cinema already has alternatives, such as television, video, computer or travelling. But at such a remote place in the middle of nowhere, where television broadcasts cannot be received due to the shadow of mountains, cinema will flourish forever. Only a film is needed which they can watch together there. Therefore Ladu is assigned to edit one from the fragmented rolls found in the cellar. An adventure story or a melodramatic piece, since as any other viewers, he also loved commercial romantic movies. American ones, in particular. That is what he got his little group to perform and that is what he was talking about all day long with exceptional plasticity between two Sundays. The role of the creator, however, immediately blesses him with the approach of art film makers. Although the raw material available abounds in classic movies, such as Battleship Potemkin, but it is the pressure of self-expression and its unexpected opportunity which counts. Feeling his own weight, Ladu is unable to create an easy-to-chew product to entertain and cradle others into dreams. What he produces is a dynamic collage film of unusual structure, which is almost impossible to follow, only to present the truth to his own audience. And he wonderfully succeeded to achieve this aim. The villagers are moved by this extraordinary movie, which later completely agitates and encourages them to make irrevocable decisions. Art fulfils its social mission, although such an audience and such a film is rare. … They may not exist at all. A Winter Behind God's Back is not such a film either. On the contrary. It creates a sterilising balance between the already low key lyrical, ironic and satirical tone of description, which is in fact an absolute recoil from the artistic interpretation of the theme and the offered, slightly stereotypical values. The spectators cannot confront with anything in this movie, only perhaps with some of their favourite clichés, provided they are in a really sentimental mood. And since what we can see is a high quality reference film, viewers may recognise the talent of director Can Togay (who does not really need it any more), and can also remember that Hungarian film still exists.