Ivan 1932

The film paints the Dnieper not just as a tranquil horizon but as a living backdrop where calm waters can suddenly rush into danger. At the heart of the story is Ivan Guba, a village boy who watches the river bend into powerful currents as the ambitious Dniproges project begins to take shape. The dam is meant to bury the rapids beneath water and birth a new power plant, a symbol of progress that attracts young energy and aspiration.

From the start, the tension between duty and longing threads through the family. Ivan admires the sweeping landscapes and throws himself into railway work with gusto, while his father, Stepan, resists the idea of leaving the village behind. The elder insists, in simple, stubborn terms, that he wants to be part of the effort on his own terms, and his stubborn stance sets up a powerful contrast with the new generation. In one stark declaration, he voices a line that lingers: “I want to go, I do not want — I will not go.” The moment crystallizes a clash between old loyalties and new ambitions, a theme that will echo through every decision Ivan makes.

The foreman, [Stepan Vasiliyevich], embodies a different philosophy. He believes that the best way to mobilize a community is to lead by example and show that others can follow suit. He longs to set a standard for neighboring villages and be the first to contribute to the massive undertaking. The project’s momentum accelerates when he reconnects with the secretary of the party committee—an old friend he hasn’t seen in over two decades—at the construction site. The reunion underscores how personal histories intertwine with collective goals in the drive toward modernization.

Ivan’s heart is caught between wonder at the taming of the great river and the harsh realities of a demanding job. He approaches his work with enthusiasm and a faith in the progress they’re building, yet his father’s defiant stance weighs on him. Despite the zeal, Ivan quickly realizes that raw effort alone isn’t enough; education and skill are essential to truly meet the new standards of the site. Night after night, he studies engineering, a pursuit that earns his father’s scorn even as it opens doors to a brighter future.

Tragedy strikes when a bucket of cement falls from a height, killing the driver. The accident becomes a flashpoint: the secretary and other officials explain that the tragedy resulted from safety violations, and a council of Komsomol members is convened to audit every mechanism at the construction site. Into the bustling hub of activity arrive a cadre of highly skilled specialists who introduce fresh methods and a tougher discipline. The manager of the “black box office”—where salaries are issued to those who fall short—shames Stepan by listing aloud how much he supposedly eats and shirks, testing the community’s tolerance for fault and reform.

Ivan feels his hard work isn’t fully recognized, and a sense of alienation gnaws at him. Yet the secretary sees potential in him, sensing that a leader may be born from the very tensions that challenge him. As a result, Ivan is welcomed into the Communist Party as a figure who can steer the project forward and inspire others. He takes to the microphone to speak on the radio, where he openly criticizes his father’s laziness and absenteeism, even calling for a personal separation—an act that stirs the crowd and reframes their sense of loyalty and duty.

A lighthearted interlude punctuates the serious mood: a common couple debates the allure of foreign radio, contrasting it with Soviet propaganda. The moment offers a wry counterpoint to the weight of construction and ideology, illustrating how everyday life weaves into the broader currents of national awakening.

Then comes a pivotal confrontation. Stepan bursts into a meeting, angrily rejecting the idea of such a son and attempting to elevate his own status by echoing the foreman’s rhetoric. Yet the crowd’s laughter punctures his posture, revealing the evolving social order and the shifting expectations of village life. Ivan steps forward, acknowledging the ache of being tied to a father who embodies the old ways, and he proclaims a new sense of belonging: he is no longer simply a son of the village but a worker who identifies with the broader working class.

The film’s emotional hinge is the arrival of the mother of the deceased worker, a figure who embodies resilience and a demand for meaningful labor. She calls for steadfast effort and determines to prove that her son’s death was not in vain, reinforcing the moral currents that will push Ivan toward a more purposeful path. Her presence lends gravity to Ivan’s decision, and inspired by her insistence on hard work, he commits to pursuing education at the robotics faculty, stepping into a future where his talents can contribute to the project with greater impact.

Throughout this journey, the landscape of the Dnieper becomes more than scenery: it is a canvas where tradition and progress collide, where individual choices ripple through families and communities, and where a young man’s education and resolve can redefine what it means to belong. The film invites viewers to weigh the cost of rapid modernization against the quiet, stubborn strength of those who build it—one act of courage, one lesson learned at night, one speech broadcast on the radio at a time.