Like the protagonists portrayed in the works of Turebaev's mentor, Kazakh New Wave director Darezhan Omirbaev, Marat's life in Adventure is a demonstration of how identity and nationhood can be encountered in the ordinariness of the everyday, in the small seemingly insignificant moments of existence, in the quiet emotional and psychological reflection of personal journeys of transition to new states of being. Marat's isolation in the bustling city— his quietness, solitude and loneliness— evoke the everyday struggles of ordinary people. In this way, Turebaev captures the reality of day-to-day life in Almaty: bus journeys, cleaning shoes, shopping at the supermarket, drinking tea, work and sleep. Like Omirbaev, Turebaev focuses closely on the little details, the long, slow, lingering shots of the ordinary.
Marat's loneliness is occasionally punctuated by the appearance of a female bartender who never stops complaining, by the invasion into his personal space of an artist friend and a devil-may-care party which takes place in his apartment. But despite these interruptions, Marat maintains an emotional and psychological distance. He remains apart from the world around him. Turebaev achieves this through long silences, pauses and Marat's limited dialogue. The monotony of the everyday— and Marat's disconnection from the world around him— are embodied in the opening lines of the film:
It happened in the heat, when the town becomes empty and you feel bored, when most people leave the city and go abroad for the holidays, nothing new was supposed to happen. Nothing has changed for a year or even two. Everything was the same.
The event Marat alludes to is meeting Mariyam, a beautiful young woman who is waiting under a lamppost one night outside the office building Marat guards. Marat rescues Mariyam when she is attacked, and they strike up a friendship. Mariyam's openness and energy draws Marat out of his solemn comfort zone. As in Dostoevsky's White Nights, Mariyam is in love with another man for whom she is waiting to return. However, Mariyam's entry into Marat's life allows him to connect with the world in a fresh way. When sitting in a café, for example, Marat observes a mother teaching her daughter how to use a knife and fork and a young couple communicating through sign languages. This apparent admiration for the domesticity of love and life is uncharacteristic of Marat, before Mariyam.
Mariyam's fierce and fiery personality contrasts with the quiet and solemn Marat. But she is also emotionally distant from those around her. Her disconnection is rooted in a series of dysfunctional relationships— Marat among them— but also her relationship with the helpless, selfless Volodya, whom Mariyam humiliates; and the lover she is awaiting to return. Yet Mariyam is powerful, brave and not afraid of breaking the monotony of the everyday by taking risks.