I am, at times, reminded by how removed I can be from the average moviegoer. That’s not a knock towards them or me, but more of a moment of clarity: I am so consumed by my love for this art that certain things I find fascinating won’t be for others.

Such is the case with No Magic For Socialists, an exhaustively researched, intimate, and deeply thought-provoking documentary that should resonate with Finnish audiences due to our shared history with film censorship. This is a fine film that won’t play at all for many. It is dry at times, and moves slow as molasses. In a way, it’s two hours of condensed academia, like going to school.

For me, it was wonderful. But I can only recommend it for the truly devoted.

In 1950s Myanmar, genre film was always and flourishing, until political turmoil forced the industry to stop making them altogether. Decades later, most of the movies shot at the time have disappeared forever. The few filmmakers of that era who still live are now in their twilight years. Finally, they have their moment to reflect on their history.

Director Htoo Lwin Myo spent three years putting this film together. For it, he traveled between Myanmar and Finland, first to discover the rare footage, and then to work with a Nordic digitization company to clean it. Later, he found the footage contained no sound, so he lipread the dialog and re-recorded it himself. The result is a triumph of passion and care. Once forgotten films live again, even if only for a while.

There is something magical about these films. Their cinematic language is both familiar yet alien. Almost childlike in its simplicity, yet poetic and lyrical all at once. Like other genre films, they are, at heart, morality tales based off myths. It’s no wonder they were considered dangerous by ruling political parties. They’re a memory of a nation’s cultural heritage.

Myo allows his subjects — filmmakers and actors and archivists — to speak uninterrupted. We get the sense no one else has in quite some time. The result is a mournful, often slow picture that is single-minded about the story it wants to tell. Every chance to cut away or make something more palatable for modern sensibilities is ignored. We’re invited to listen and learn, and Myo keeps us fixated on what remains. There’s a lot to admire in that purity of vision.

But it is a choice that will keep others away. At two hours, I can see the argument that No Magic For Socialists could be a full half-hour shorter and it would work better. Yet to do so would mean to cut something, and I can understand why such an idea is out of the question. It’s been 70 years of silence, what harm can two hours do?

For film historians and genre fans, No Magic For Socialists won’t feel a minute too long. They will relish in everything that Myo has discovered, and mourn at the thought of all that was lost. This is an important time capsule, created by a filmmaker with a keen observational eye.