The story is about Sergei Maslov. He's a normal kinda guy. From Rostov, he lives in a communal flat in Petersburg with his wife and his late-teenage daughter (and an old woman and a Georgian man called George..(!) ). He's an anaesthetist, and he subsidises his small wage with bribery. But he's not a cold, hard swindler. "So, what kind of anaesthetic will we be giving you?", he says to his patient Pisarev. "Standard, or....?" "What's the difference," asks Pisarev. "500.....," says Maslov. Pisarev tells his companion to give him 300. On being handed dollars, Maslov returns 200 to the unfortunate companion, waves the remainder in the air, and says, "That's an honesty tax... I meant Russian roubles."

There are many such encounters in the film. Popogrebsky deals with the dark and difficult sides of modern Russian life with sensitivity and humour. With his extremely light touch, he inspires sympathy and understanding. His humour shows that he sees the absurdity of the world, and it fits in perfectly with the message of the film -- don't get caught up in the mess of the nonsense that people create. Focus on what is important. The simple things.

Working in a hospital, surely Sergei should be able to see the importance of the purest things all around him. But he is unhappy. He is wounded by the fact that he is not more successful. That it has all become too familiar with his wife Katja. That she is pregnant, and that they have no space for another child in their cramped rooms. He just feels like a failure, he is frustrated. And there isn't really anyone he can take it out on.

Things come to a head when Sergei is offered work caring for an ageing, but very well loved actor of the Soviet cinema, Zuravlev (played wonderfully by the real-life Soviet film star Bronevoj.) Because of the delicate manner in which he handled Pisarev, a care agency hires him as the doctor who will visit Zuravlev on a daily basis, and receive fifty for each visit. Dollars, that is. Of course, the needy Maslov cannot refuse.

The quick-witted and wise old man soon sees through Sergei, understanding his plight almost immediately, and makes him an offer of the unsigned but apparently genuine Repin hanging on his wall. "See that.. that'll pay for whole new flat, and you 'll still have some left over."

Maslov makes a mess of it all, of course. He is kind hearted but not very hard working. He goes drinking with a friend he hasn't seen for a while during the daytime, he ends up being punched by his daughter's boyfriend (she had recently run away from home to go and live with this young Pjetr..) But he does have some dubious sense of honour and pride. He cannot accept charity from Zuravlev, and yet he desperately needs the money. (His wife threw him out of their room because he did not want this second child.) And so he decides to leave Zuravlev, though not before drugging him and taking the painting, having a copy made, selling it, and returning the copy to the flat. But of course this doesn't work out.. and Zuravlev ends up having to explain to the police that Maslov is simply a bungler, not a burglar.

The character of Sergei is extremely successful. Though the story is told from his point of view, it is not biased, and Popogrebskij does not make excuses for him. His actions are indeed base, cowardly.. But candid and subtle acting lets his shame just crack through his half-smirk. This is a man with whom we sympathise, and yet we do not excuse his actions. We see the plight of the modern Russian man painted honestly. He has failures. He could really work harder. He is not averse to turning to underhand methods. But he loves his close ones deeply. He has a staunch sense of honour and pride, and he will not be made to look a fool. It is not entirely his fault that he fails, but he cannot really blame anyone else. There is no single central enemy any more, and everywhere he steps, he finds himself at a loose end. This atmosphere of exasperation and directionlessness permeates the film.

From the first moments of Простые вещи, we see things. A jar of soup, slippers, an oven, carpet hangings on the wall, lampshades... All those things that still sit in every Russian household, left over from communist days when objects in every home were identical. Because, after all, one attaches a certain deal of emotion and memory to these things, the clutter that surrounds us in daily life. But aside from being realia that everyone will remember, the focus on things is central to the development of the story and the meaning of the film. Placing emphasis on things and money (as is done throughout -- exact sums are named, and it's always a question of 'How much will I get for this?'), Sergei loses focus of what makes him happy. Following the carrot on the stick, he is led away from Katja and his daughter. It takes a good deal of wisdom passing in one ear and out the other, and finally a blow to the head, to teach him what is important. And that is -- the simple things. At first Sergei thought that this referred to the material, but by the end he has understood. It sounds trite to spell out that love and family should have been his focus. The success of this film lies in the fact that Popogrebskij manages to make it clear without being trite.

His calm and collected gaze falls on the fussing of the characters, and sarcasm and dry wit prove his points, without any hysterics or explicit stating of the answer. The film combines humour and a compelling view of real and honest characters, in a story that both amuses and sparks contemplation.