This book addresses representations of Russia and neighbouring Eastern Europe in post-1989 Nordic cinemas, investigating their hitherto-overlooked transnational dimension. Departing from the dark stereotypes that characterise the hegemonic narrative defined as ‘Eastern noir’, the author presents Norden’s eastern neighbours as depicted with a rich, though previously neglected in scholarship, cinematic diversity. The book does not deny the existence of Eastern noir or its accuracy. Instead, in a number of in-depth case studies of both popular and niche feature films, documentaries and television dramas, it interrogates and attempts to add nuance to the Nordic audiovisual imagination of Russia and Eastern Europe. Tracing approaches of and beyond the Eastern noir paradigm across cinematic genres, and in relation to changing historical contexts, the author considers how increasingly transnational affinities have led to a reimagining of Norden’s eastern neighbours in contemporary Nordic films. Making the notions of border/boundary and neighbourliness central to the argument, the author explores how the shared geopolitical border is (re)imagined in Nordic films and how these (re)imaginations reflect back on the Nordic subjects.

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The article offers a discussion of Sofi Oksanen’s novel Purge, focusing on the book’s strategy of evoking stereotypical narratives about Eastern Europe, such as the (postcommunist) fallen woman and (Russian) return home narratives, as well as related intertexts, primarily Lukas Moodysson’s film Lilya 4-ever. I argue that Oksanen constructs the plot around clichés in order to challenge them in a subversive fashion, first and foremost, in the name of recuperating the notion of Home. Related to locality and the feeling of being at-home, where the wholeness of the (national) subject is possible, ‘home’ is staged as an alternative to stereotypes, associated with transnational travel and the apparatus of colonization. A significant counter-narrative embedded in the novel - and hitherto rarely discussed - is the exilic perspective with its idealization of the lost and imagined home(land). In Purge, this is mediated through the main character’s postmemory. By means of a postexilic narrative, home is reconfigured as a ‘third space’ - neither fully ideal and (ethnically) pure nor adhering to the aforementioned stereotypical narratives. The positive valorisation of home, despised by some critics as simplistic and conservative, does not prevent movement and dislocation from being included in the new experience of home(land) emerging from the post-Soviet condition.

The first chapter is concerned with the cinematic narratives of Eastern noir, which adopt a border discourse and imagine Russia (and thereby often Eastern Europe) as a crime scene. In these crime narratives, Russia is essentialised as a crime scene, where the traces of crime comprise evidence of an omnipresent evil emanating from the centre of power. The chapter argues moreover that whereas Russia serves as the ‘great Other’, in whose gaze the small nations from the Nordic region are controlled and overseen, Eastern Europeans function merely as unfamiliar, rather than threatening, ‘others’. By juxtaposing diversity of genres, including popular Nordic action films (Orion’s Belt and Born American), two documentaries and a television series (Occupied), the chapter shows that the hegemonic Eastern noir narrative, although persistent in mainstream cinema, functions across various modes of cinematic expression. The analyses corroborate the fact that border discourse affords the viewers a sense of safety in the increasingly globalised reality.

The article investigates the ways in which Pirjo Honkasalo’s documentary The 3 Rooms of Melancholia (2004), examining the impact of the Russian-Chechen war on children, engenders a transnational audience through cinematic qualities, and most importantly through embodiment, producing a strongly affective resonance in the spectator. I argue that through a strategically affective approach to transnationality, the documentary establishes what I call a transnational shared space, structured by a complex dialectics of sharing and non-sharing. My argument revolves around the concept of cinema as a shared space, referring to films that deliberately ‘surround’ the viewer rather than maintain a distance. As the analysis shows, Honkasalo’s documentary pushes the spectator to reflect critically on transnationality and reconsider mass media-created memory of the military conflict. The article addresses issues underlying the film’s ethical quest, such as whether this shared space involves both western (Catholic) and non-western (Orthodox and Muslim) audiences, and what the limits are of transnationalism in documentary film.