Dmitry Kiselev, who directed and wrote films like “Peace” and “First Time,” shared in a conversation with socialbites.ca a revealing slice of his childhood imagination. He admitted that, as a child, he would tell friends that his mother worked as an astronaut even though that wasn’t true. He also explained that the idea of ever stepping into space seemed far beyond his own reach, almost like a distant dream that belonged to others, not to him.
“For reasons I can’t fully explain, I didn’t think I could deserve a dream about it. Yet I kept up the story about my mother’s astronaut career, a tale I knew wasn’t real, even as I watched the skies with children’s wonder,” he recalled. That mix of aspiration and a sense of unworthiness formed an odd starting point for someone who would later create films that look up at the heavens with curiosity and respect.
He remembered a pivotal moment from his childhood when his father brought home a poster signed by an astronaut and placed it on Kiselyov’s desk. That single gesture, a simple emblem of exploration, left a lasting imprint. It wasn’t just a picture; it was a doorway. From that door, a quiet reverence for those who risk everything to explore the unknown began to take root in him. The celestial posters were more than decoration; they were a daily reminder of human courage, precision, and the endless pursuit of knowledge that accompanies every mission beyond Earth’s atmosphere.
As years passed, Kiselev carried that early respect into his education and then into his career. He studied the stories of spaceflight with the keen eye of a filmmaker who understands how to translate awe into narrative. He learned the names of astronauts, memorized their eyes as if they were characters in a sprawling epic, and absorbed the atmosphere of the space program—the discipline, the danger, and the unshakable commitment to discovery. When opportunities arose to shoot projects centered on space, he did not hesitate. The chance to bring space to the screen felt, to him, like a natural extension of that childhood inspiration—the moment when admiration for the brave few who venture beyond the sky meets the craft of storytelling that can make that ascent feel real for audiences on the ground. In this way, his body of work began to reflect a lifelong conversation with the cosmos, a dialogue between early dreams and the hard-won realities of making cinema that honors those explorations with honesty and awe.
Note: The interview and the details of Kiselev’s reflections are cited from a public conversation with the publication socialbites.ca, which covered his personal memories and professional philosophy concerning space, film, and the people who inspire both.