If the Russian tourism board is working on a campaign to convince foreigners to drop by, rent a car, and see the countryside, it should probably move on to another idea. The Road Movie, by director Dmitrii Kalashnikov, splices together raw footage from the dashboard cameras of Russian cars as they narrowly avoid—and, in some cases, fail to avoid—total chaos sliding toward the windshield at high speed.

The freeway pileups create a kind of steady beat, augmented by all sorts of obstacles to happy motoring: cows, horses, ducks, bears, hatchet-wielding psychos, deranged bridesmaids… You brace for possible impact and then brace and brace again, relieved only by the incomparably dry Russian sense of humour. (“Fuck, we’ve arrived,” one unseen passenger quips after plunging through a guardrail and into a river.)

While the film’s stoicism is specific to a place and culture—note how serenely the well-dressed young woman strolls past the capsizing dumptruck—its rubbernecking is a universal part of 21st-century life, wholly anonymous and without end.