Welded Together

Winter bites deep in Belarus, as we can see from Welded Together’s opening shot, as a truck makes its way up a lonely road surrounded by snow. Most of the comfort in this poignant documentary from Anastasiya Miroshnichenko is also of the cold variety as we learn about the difficult life of young welder Katya.

Shot fly-on-the-wall style – no mean feat considering many of the cramped and difficult spaces cinematographer Pavel Romanenya and the director take their camera – this is a raw portrait of Katya’s attempts to reconnect with her estranged mother while forging her own way in the world. It recently took home the Grand Jury prize at Sheffield DocFest.

When we meet 21-year-old Katya is living and working in the rural village of Radost on a collective farm. We learn her personal history as she chats to a friend about the way that her mum slipped into alcoholism when Katya’s father died, and in a wider indictment of Belarusian society, her friend relates a similar experience. At the time of her dad’s death Katya was six and she was later taken into an orphanage. “Sharing my feelings doesn’t help,” she notes, with the suspicion being that not sharing them has become an important area of control in a life over which she hasn’t been able to exert much of her own freewill.

That is starting to change, however, as she has recently reconnected with her mother, who now has another daughter, Amina, who is on the brink of becoming a toddler and learning to talk. Romanenya’s camera catches the flickers of fragility about Katya in meetings with her mum and half-sister, her mother’s love for Amina no doubt triggering Katya’s own memories and leading to conflicted feelings. Deciding to move in with the pair of them in the city of Brest brings fresh waves of joy and sadness.

It’s easy to see the bond she quickly develops with Amina, who like most little children is a lively and sometimes exhausting but sunny presence. There’s a purity to the interactions between the sisters, which also serve as a reminder of how close to childhood Katya still is. Work, too, seems to take an upswing, as she begins working in a workshop, where the apparently all-male staff make her warmly welcome and encourage her to improve her skills. Success on the work front, however, is not matched at home as it is obvious Katya’s mother continues to have major alcohol problems.

It must have taken considerable mental strength on the part of the director and cinematographer not to intervene as the situation with Amina sometimes becomes borderline dangerous, as she is left in the care of one of Katya’s mother’s boyfriends as he slides towards inebriation. Meanwhile, Katya begins to be sucked into the chaos, having to skip work in order to look after her sibling. Her stoicism within the situation is heartrending as she attempts to find a solution to the problem especially when she finds social workers are blunt about Katya’s chances of being able to adopt Amina herself.

At times this is an achingly painful film, as Katya determinedly ploughs on hoping that love and stoicism can conquer all. Her attempts to keep her family together are both moving and heroic but while the film’s conclusion comes as spring arrives, it reminds us that fairy tale endings are hard to come by in the real world. In terms of directorial choices, Katya’s attitude and emotions stand strong on their own and could do without the addition of the final music track, which feels rather pushy compared to the much more subtly employed score from Rui Reis Maia employed elsewhere.

Reviewed on: 04 Jul 2025