Alice’s Dreams: A Quietly Haunting Mystery from a Northern Frontier
A shy schoolgirl named Alice lives in a closed town perched near a cosmodrome, a remote place tucked between the imagined peripheries of Silent Hill and Twin Peaks. If a traveler ever points north toward Russia, this is the landscape they might picture. Throughout her life, Alice has carried a thread of unsettling dreams about a bleak future she cannot alter. One night, a girl appears in those dreams with her face cut away, an image so stark it returns again and again. When Alice encounters a living girl who resembles the silhouette from her visions, she resolves to protect her from harm at any cost. Yet, the creatures of certainty rarely resemble their appearances, and owls may hide more than they reveal.
Backstory. Alice’s Dreams first surfaced at a small festival and quickly earned a place among the standout projects of the season. Critics praised its cohesive atmosphere and stylistic cohesion, noting how the script’s ambiguity is balanced by a confident, atmospheric hand. There was even talk of reshooting the pilot if the project progressed, and eventually the series did move forward. Over time the show has grown more deliberate while retaining its loose, dreamlike looseness; the atmosphere has intensified, even as the narrative threads remain teasingly unclear.
In tone, the series steps away from the more obvious crossovers of Twin Peaks with Silent Hill. It avoids the heavy-handed, soap-operatic feel in favor of a more restrained melancholy. There are fewer overt shocks and more atmosphere, less coffee and cherry pie as such, yet the influence of classic mystery and dread lingers in the air. The show still captures the sense of uncanny unease that comes from places where the ordinary world brushes up against the uncanny. Its approach to horror is quiet and perceptive rather than loud, and that choice gives the first episodes room to breathe while still hinting at something larger beneath the surface.
The production design leans into cold interiors and a quiet, almost Scandinavian sense of stillness. The proximity to a cosmodrome opens possibilities for science-fiction turns that feel earned, as if a larger, breath-held future might be waiting to break through the fog. Names, colors, and recurring symbols in the series hint at literary inspirations: the protagonist’s name, the stark black-red-white palette, and repeated chess motifs nod toward Lewis Carroll and his games of strategy. Among the darker, macabre threads, the mood evokes a whisper of Robert Eggers’ The Witch, weaving witchcraft imagery into a setting that is already half-modern, half-mystical.
Yet for all the eerie potential, there remains a persistent uncertainty about where this rabbit hole leads. It is easier to form opinions after a handful of episodes than from a single pilot, and Russian television has a history of starting with tension only to drift toward a calmer, more peaceful finish. Regardless, the early work suggests that Alice’s Dreams could become a striking and memorable series if it keeps its nerve and avoids drifting too far into abstraction. The signs point to a promising trajectory rather than a guaranteed triumph, but the foundation is intriguing enough to spark anticipation.
From the production side, Valery Fedorovich and Evgeniy Nikishov of 1-2-3 Production have previously explored snow-bound mysticism through other projects, including earlier works that merged harsh climates with a mythic mood. Those efforts often carried a stark, almost Scandinavian darkness, sometimes grounded in real-life tragedies. With Alice’s Dreams there is a potential to blend these influences into something unique—an ambitious project that could reward patience and stay true to its hopeful core rather than drifting into mere ephemeral haze. If the eight-episode arc remains focused and true to its center, the show could stand as a notable entry in contemporary genre storytelling.
Still, the path ahead is not guaranteed. There is a risk that the concept, originally conceived early in its life, could become a polished but soulless construction. It is important to trust the vision behind the project and not to let geographical or stylistic choices become a barrier. A Russian horror effort in a market that often underestimates local genre work could either be a bold triumph or a misstep. The best-case scenario sees a show that embraces its own strange atmosphere while delivering coherent, emotionally resonant character work. In that sense, sleep, however tempting, should not erase the morning light of possibility. The early momentum hints at a result that could be genuinely compelling.