Sean Parker
Dima Barch sits on a linen sofa. From the other end of my computer screen, I see his soft eyes, wide smile, and slightly tussled hair as I mess with the settings on Zoom, which has logged me out and won’t let me record. Barch is calm, patiently waiting for me to ask him about The Power of the Strike, his new extreme horror short film playing at Salem Horror Fest over the next two weekends. As I finally receive the two-factor authentication email that will allow me to start the interview, the grace of the person on the other end of the call isn’t lost on me. Barch looks comfortable, and as an interviewer who knows a little about his backstory, that means a lot.
At only twenty-five years old, the babyfaced Barch has already been through a lot. Two years ago, he immigrated from Russia and now resides in Los Angeles. He essentially had to give up everything to be here, saying goodbye to his family and friends to live an authentic, openly gay lifestyle that was impossible to do under the suppression of the Russian government. He was a journalist before arriving stateside and has since had articles published by The Hollywood Reporter, speaking truth-to-power about the state of a closed and rigid Russian imperialist cinema pipeline that only approves films that live up to their draconian standards. Barch had written a high-concept film, Absence, but due to gay propaganda laws knew he could never get it produced. The immutable system would rather see its best filmmakers emigrate than see queer and feminist films empower people in their carefully controlled nation.
I saw Barch’s first short, Dead End, play just before Monster Makeup’s Saint Drogo. In one word, Dead End is powerful. The film, which is largely about trying to escape abuse, torture, and torment, is manifested through an inescapable, undead ex-boyfriend. The constant fear and overwhelming anxieties that, at any moment, Barch could find his newfound freedom revoked is executed with startling horror. The constant state of uneasiness in Dead End alerts us to Barch’s authentic storytelling self, and The Power of the Strike retains the filmmaker’s distinctive qualities, flawlessly combining his justified paranoia with political and social commentary through his captivating cinematic skillset.
The Power of the Strike, at only sixteen minutes, says a whole f*cking lot. We’re introduced to Alex (Robert Milan Knorr) on the floor of a neon-drenched bathroom. The Saw-inspired setup was completed with the provocation of an unknown voice over a loudspeaker and a shock collar to keep Alex submissive. As Alex gets his bearings in this darkened blacklit landscape, the voice above, his own Personal Jesus as it were, offers him the chance to get revenge on a hedonistic bully from his past. But what will the cost of that revenge be?
Dima Barch wastes no time in The Power of the Strike. Every line, every scene, fits into a meticulously crafted cycle-of-violence story where the targets are chosen for a reason. The film also features two bumbling Christian antagonists who are okay admitting to their murderous proclivities, just so long as their moms don’t see them doing drugs on their livestream. The film has all the markings of a Coen Brothers picture with Tarantino-esque dialogue, while visually, a cosmic noir version of Saw plays out on the screen. It’s passionately dense material once you start unpacking it, even when it subjects you to some teeth-gritting graphic imagery.
The film is not for easily upset stomachs, nor for those who would be easily offended by its brash declarations steeped in the film’s intelligent musings of religious denial and hypocrisy. As I told Barch during our interview, he’s going to piss a lot of people off, but “that’s the point,” he told me. And that’s The Power of the Strike.
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Sean Parker: All right, so in your own words, tell us what Power of the Strike is about.
Dima Barch: The Power of the Strike is a high-tense, neon-soaked thriller about revenge. It’s kind of a hostage thriller that came from the Saw franchise, [and] came from different filmmakers, works like George A Romero, like Nicholas Winding Refn, or Joe Begos, and people like that, yeah.
SP: I kind of see this as you take us back and forward through time. It’s almost like a Pulp Fiction noir version of Saw at the start of the film. Those were your inspirations. Nicholas Winding Refn and people like that?
DB: As I told you, it was a decent amount of films and filmmakers. We were looking at Joe Begos for sure for different films from his, like Bliss or Veterans of Foreign Wars (VFW). Or it was Panos Cosmatos as well. Beyond the Black Rainbow was a huge inspiration for us. Yeah, like a lot. I got this idea that I should be making something visually astonishing. Still being low budget. Still, you know, like going through this area of punk rock filmmaking, but still really getting this non-ugly look, you know, like something beautifully visioned, I didn’t know. And it came also from my mentor, Carter Smith as well because, you know, his Swallow was pretty low budget, but he’ll never say that.
Yeah, I’m going to this more high-stakes territory, but you know it’s me, and I love to be myself.
SP: Last year in Salem, you won the George Romero Fellowship and were mentored by Carter Smith. What was that experience like?
DB: It was an incredible experience, like the “dream come true” moment. You know? Being next to him and watching my first short, Dead End. The person [whose] movie I was watching when I was like ten years [old], and it was like an incredible experience. And he’s so supportive in terms of different advice. in terms of, you know, like just being the finest person in the world and helping with, I don’t know, a lot of things. He’s [such a] nice person with such good taste, and I just love him.
SP: I guess one of my biggest questions for the movie Power of the Strike, why a bowling alley? What was it about a bowling alley that made you go, “That’s the location, that’s creepy as hell?
DB: It was tricky, and it was a bit sketchy at that moment when I was writing the script, ’cause initially it was set in [an] abandoned warehouse or something, [closer] to the original inspirations like the Saw franchise. But at the end of the day, I got this idea that we need to find something unique. The space that could be stylish besides our own approach. And at the end of the day, we found this bowling alley and I got this idea that it could be like the perfect metaphor for like the whole story for, you know? Like The Power of the Strike, the strike is part of this bowling game, and the Power of the Strike is my homage to the power of the dark from the Bible, and then the movie by director Campion as well. Like a lot of things, actually. And it was kind of, I don’t know, accidental? But at the end of the day, [it’s] like the perfect match for this story, for this script, and for these characters. And, when you’re working with this tiny amount of money and in this same place, you need to make this place more and more desirable. I don’t know if [that] makes any sense.
SP: For people who don’t know, you were born in Moscow, you’re openly gay, you’ve been very critical of Russia, the war in Ukraine, the gay propaganda law, and so on. You moved stateside only a couple of years ago, and your first film, Dead End, is a very claustrophobic experience about trying to escape the violence advanced by the Russian laws and the culture. While Power of the Strike, Alex has distanced himself from a violent past, only to find himself in a familiar violent scenario. I guess my question here is, what has this transition been like for you to the States, and are you seeing comparisons?
DB: Initially, the working title for this short, for the second one, was My Mom Was Homophobic, Too, and it was like the line from one of Alex’s monologues. And for me, it’s like another angle of probably the same problem. I mean like the dent is mostly stuck in Russian, homophob[ia], in Russian…I don’t know, like [the] propaganda machine and being suppressed by your parents, by the government, by the society, you know, feeling like something is in the air. But this movie is more universal on the one hand. But on the other hand, it’s still about being suppressed by your parents, ’cause the main character [has] his family issues with his mom, who was homophobic, and the main villain, the antagonist, [has] his own family issues connected to his dad. They got their own story about the bowling alley and stuff like that. And yeah, I’m. I’m trying to, you know, like to process this family issues, this childhood trauma, like being gay in Russia, being gay in [a] homophobic society. And probably just being traumatized by the bubble that you’re living in.
I lost my family, friends, and stuff like that, and now I’m trying —I’m still trying— to rebuild myself from scratch, and I got nothing besides my filmmaking. Nothing besides cinema, and I’m trying to stay in this field, and I hope I [can] manage that. And I hope one of these stories, or another story, or something different [can] work out at the end of the day.
SP: So, another thing that another thing that goes on that end for me is seeing the antagonists. They’re drowning in a sea of religious hypocrisy. Does the religious argument ever affect you? Does it play in? How does this play into the film as big as it does?
DB: I’m still on my way to process this trauma as well. A lot of years I was a part of some sort of a cult, and it [had] a big [effect] on my childhood, on my teenage years, and on my life itself. And with each and every movie of mine, I’m trying to go deeper and deeper into this trauma, as well as an additional thing. And for the first one, Godfrey, the antagonist, was like a part of this religious mind thing, but this one, I wanted to be closer to this right-wing bullsh*t stuff connected to up-and-coming religious prejudice. […] I’d love to make this story more political, and the main antagonists, the people who are like, behind these guys, are like, really, really sh*tty [people]. And I’d love to show it without showing them, you know?
SP: And, especially, maybe my favorite part of the movie is the last line. It’s definitely going to piss-off a lot of people off.
DB: I hope so!
SP: Is that the kind of reaction that you’re hoping for, or what do you want to see? What do you want to see on people’s faces when he walks out with that mic drop?
DB: I actually got like three or four versions of this final line. One of them [was] closer to the Saw franchise but wasn’t so provocative. It was something like “Game Over” or something like that. But at the end of the day, this line was in [the] initial script. I love to stick to my guns to make this movie controversial, to make this movie just angry in terms of this reach. Something that’s pretty against all of this stuff that I’m talking about before. And yeah, it was like a perfect match. It was pretty tricky, and it’s still pretty tricky in terms of being programmed. In terms of promotion for this movie. But at the end of the day, I am being compared with Gregg Araki, George A. Romero, [and] Brian de Palma in terms of being provocative as well, and I love that. Yeah, I’m going to this more high-stakes territory, but you know it’s me, and I love to be myself.
SP: That’s awesome. I love that answer, man.
DB: And thank you. Thank you for [the] appreciation of this line. It really means a lot [to] me.
SP: No, that that’s The thing is, it’s super transgressive, right? It’s definitely going against the grain. And I kind of love it because, let’s face it, I think anyone that’s ever been in, you know, Catholicism or anything like that, I think they thought that once or twice. Going, “Maybe…” you know?
DB: Yeah, like even my editor, he was like, “Oh, probably we could be like a bit offensive, and probably we should change that.” And I was like, “No, it’s the point. We should be offensive. We should hurt these people who [would be offended] by things like that.”
SP: For me, it’s really a talking point, right? Like it opens your mind up to the possibility, you know.
DB: Exactly! When I used to be a journalist, I [tried] to provoke people to think to find the [feeling] that you are going to and process it. And you’re processing it just to start the conversation. And I hope this line could be the start. The kicking off for another conversation, you know? like something that [goes] further than the movie.
SP: I hope so too. It was a genuine, like, “Oh!” I enjoyed the hell out of it. And so my last question for you is, uh. What are you working on next?
DB: A lot of stuff, to be honest. I’m trying to develop one of these features that I’ve already written. One of them is more like studio horror. IT-esque, sort of. And the second one is more [of a] personal high-tense thriller, as well. Pretty queer. Pretty provocative. We’ll see. I don’t know. I’m still in this in this game. I’m trying to do my best, and It’s really tough. Filmmaking is tough, and filmmaking is hard, and as you know, I’ve lost my life. I lost my family, friends, and stuff like that, and now I’m trying —I’m still trying— to rebuild myself from scratch, and I got nothing besides my filmmaking. Nothing besides cinema, and I’m trying to stay in this field, and I hope I [can] manage that. And I hope one of these stories, or another story, or something different [can] work out at the end of the day.
SP: Oh, I think you have nothing but talent. I’ve seen two of your shorts now. They’ve both blown me away. Everybody at Salem is kind of just… I think they’re gonna freak the hell out with this one. It’s gonna be awesome. Thank you so much for sitting down and talking with me. I appreciate you greatly. Thank you.
DB: Yeah, likewise. Thank you so much. Yeah, it’s a huge hand, and it’s [a] huge opportunity. Thank you. Thank you for having me.
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The Power of the Strike is featured in the Interludes portion at Salem Horror Fest and plays both weekends. Tickets for the festival are on sale now and include access to a multitude of films and events throughout
