Thursday, 8 June, saw the conclusion of the 20th Docudays UA. The Kyiv-based, human rights-oriented documentary festival held a physical edition in the Ukrainian capital to celebrate its 20th anniversary. Of course, I don’t need to explain the myriad of current challenges present for the country’s premier non-fiction cinema event to occur. The event was, in fact, the second physical Docudays UA since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of the country. In November 2022, a mini-festival was held, while that year’s DOCU/UKRAINE programme was hosted at the Krakow Film Festival. In 2023, though abridged, a broader festival took place across two central Kyiv venues – Zhovten Cinema and KINO42.
Representing Modern Times Review, I travelled to Kyiv (it would be my second time in the city, following a 2021 invite from the annual B2B Doc workshop) in a rare instance of on-site international press. With air traffic continuing to be closed across the country’s airspace, travel to Kyiv from my Bucharest home would be lengthy. Despite a train option from the border area, I chose the night bus route, Bucharest to Kyiv, by way of Odesa. All-in-all about a 20-hour journey. To my surprise, the bus was more than manageable. Perhaps 75% full, mostly women and small children, it comfortably traversed the Romanian countryside northward, crossing into Moldova for mere minutes before hitting the Ukrainian border. As the only non-Ukrainian national, I was solely approached by military personnel regarding my reasoning to enter the country, as well as some general questions on past travel and occupation. Despite the inherent intimidation of confronting heavily armed military personnel (and doing so in something of a delirious 3 am state), my border crossing experience was smooth, allowing us to continue with limited delay. From there, a steady climb from Odesa northward to Kyiv’s Central Bus Station took the journey’s remaining 10 hours.
Most of my thoughts across the journey and beforehand were focused on the event in a way virtually identical to any other, albeit paying full mind to the volatility of the country and the knowledge other international guests would be scarce. I did my research and trusted what was told to me by that in-the-know regarding the exact situation on the ground in Kyiv. In my pre-festival interview with head programmer Yuliia Kovalenko, I asked specifically about this, receiving the answer: «Though there are still air alarms and occasional attacks, the Ukrainian defence system has improved, and I feel safer than a year ago. However, it’s important to acknowledge that the feeling of war persists.» What does this mean? Well, acknowledging the ongoing, near-constant devastation of the country’s eastern areas, Kyiv finds itself in a more secure position. With a mostly effective PATRIOT missile defence system in place, the vast majority of incoming objects (cruise and hypersonic missiles and Iran-made kamikaze drones among them), few permeate. That said, on the day of my journey’s start (1 June), there came news of three casualties of a Russian missile attack on the capital. And, upon further research, May saw a particularly hostile month, with some 250 targets shot down over the city.
As Romania turned to Moldova and Moldova into Ukraine, the evidence of a country at war was immediate. One is struck by the presence of anti-tank obstacles, makeshift checkpoints, random stops, and the constant visuals representing population solidarity, military recruitment, and large-scale nationalist street art. These would be a constant throughout, a sensory barrage of existential threats creating an atmosphere unlike anywhere I had travelled before. Despite the occasional foray into hostile territories, most of my experiences had been in countries almost used to decades-long violence, whether by internal dispute or the «war on terror».
Upon arrival at Kyiv’s Sofia Hotel, a mere metres from UNESCO heritage site and city centre, Saint-Sophia Cathedral, my first stop was the festival opening celebration. With words from core staff, the festival kicked off screening the festival-staple film from Alisa Kovalenko, We Will Not Fade Away – well covered by Modern Times Review, with Sevara Pan describing the film as «an achingly tender film about growing up and a moving contemplation on life itself» and Nick Holdsworth as «a testament to a generation coming of age on a seismic geopolitical fault line.» Ultimately, the film would receive the festival’s main prize, adding to an award and special mention haul that includes Millenium Docs Against Gravity, DOXA Documentary Film Festival, and goEast Film Festival. With the first night concluding, subsequent days would see complete, day-long programming, including the kick-off of DOCU/PRO, DOCU/CLASS, and the opening of the crowdsourced War Archives.
As Kovalenko also mentioned in our interview, «compared to 2019, we had a full day to screen five or more films. But now, we must reduce the program by more than half to accommodate the time constraints.» Nevertheless, across its various sections (DOCU/SHORT, DOCU/WORLD, DOCU/UKRAINE, RIGHTS NOW!, and those in non-competition), 53 informative, powerful, and culturally diverse films were shown representing 27 countries from Greenland to South Africa. For example, Abbas Rezaie’s Afghanistan-focused The Etilaat Roz took home an International Competition Special Mention. Mstyslav Chernov’s harrowing 20 Days in Mariupol was awarded the DOCU/UKRAINE main prize, as well as the festival’s Audience Award, while DOCU/SHORT’s main prize was handed to Mila Zhluktenko, Daniel Asadi Faezi’s waking up in silence. Further awards can be found here.
But a festival is about far more than just the awarded films. Here, Docudays UA was uniquely positioned to highlight more under-the-radar offerings, especially those made in the country by Ukrainian filmmakers (26 such films would feature across the Docudays UA programme). This would be my focus, film-wise, as ultimately, my interests push me toward stories told by those who live them, the experiences and voices of those directly affected by the imposed conditions in which they exist. In war, those voices are more critical than ever, especially as the media worldwide remains an unreliable narrator focused on hegemonic maintenance. It is the cold reality of war that all-to-frequently goes ignored. Of these films, with a combined review forthcoming, personal highlights included the medium-length When Spring Came to Bucha (dir. Mila Teshaieva, Marcus Lenz) and a trio of features: Ukrainian Independence (dir. Volodymyr Tykhyy), Fragile Memory (dir. Igor Ivanko), and Babylon ’13’s fascinating MH17-focused Iron Butterflies (dir. Roman Liubyi).
The various panels, workshops, and talks presented were perhaps even more potent than the film selections. Central among them was the epic scope of the Rights Now! Human Rights programme. Unified by a vision of the future, this multi-day series of talks saw conversations with human rights activists, panels on post-war recovery and development, and the inclusion of the aforementioned war archives database. Discussion examples included, Recovery after injuries: How military people deal with bureaucracy, Rebuilding Ukraine: How to make communities more comfortable for everyone, Mental self-defence: Why it is important to joke about the war and more.
Running parallel to Rights Now! was the more internationally-focused and official industry section, DOCU/PRO, which combined Ukraine-specific topics with broader industry interests. Everything from the challenges and opportunities for animated documentaries to marketing strategies to the art of editing documentary film (as presented by Niels Pagh Andersen) to a case study revolving around Simon Lereng Wilmont’s Academy-Award-nominated A House Made of Splinters were on the bill. Unfortunately for me, DOCU/PRO was a mostly closed series, so I could not cover the events. Regardless, my interests were generally piqued throughout and would have welcomed insight from all. One event of particular interest was the Producer’s Masterclass entitled, how to enter the industry and still love films.
But, despite my lack of DOCU/PRO attendance, I was lucky enough to attend two other conversations as part of the educational DOCU/CLASS programme. The first, Film festivals: are they opportunities to hang out with friends or drivers of change?, was a personal highlight, addressing an interesting question albeit more focused on the drivers of change aspect. Here, film journalist Alex Malyshenko moderated a panel consisting of Hot Docs’ Myrocia Watamaniuk, Kyiv International Film Festival Molodist and Kyiv LGBTQ+ festival SUNNY BUNNY’s Bohdan Zhuk, Beldocs’ Marko Grba Singh, and One World Slovakia’s Eva Križková (Singh and Križková among the few other international guests). Across its 90 minutes, Malyshenko asked pointed questions, including the mission of each’ respective festival, the importance of screening Ukrainian films, general curation approaches, and more. One can generally imagine how some of these answers would go; however, one back-and-forth particularly stood out. And that was a dialogue between Malyshenko and Singh on the topic of curating Russian films in festival programmes.
With Beldocs being a Belgrade, Serbia-based event and Serbia being one of the few Russian allies on the European continent, the approach for curating Russian films there is not at absolute zero despite figures like Singh being staunchly opposed. As Singh says, «Of course, we do not screen Russian propaganda films that are state-funded. But on the individual level, there are a small minority of artists against it. We are open to considering these films», Singh said, situating his own family’s experience as dissenting voices during Serbia’s 90s regime days. The response still seemed insufficient for many, with Malyshenko pressing on, explaining that even if films do not have direct public funding, they could receive oligarch funding. He also notes the Putin brand, which remains reinforced even through negativity. «How can you actually believe that the filmmaker is against the regime?», Malyshenko asked. Here, Križková jumped in with her own festival’s approach along the absolute-zero line, reinforcing the maintenance of Putin’s international branding. «We’re not screening any Russian films. At the end of the day, and from a long-term perspective, if Russian cinema is being screened, Putin sees it as a success, even if it’s a negative depiction.» From there, this particular conversation did not find much resolve; however, it did consider some specific examples outside of the Ukraine-Russia dynamic, including the ethics of screening the controversial Ulrich Seidl film Sparta.
The second panel was on my final evening, 6 June. Held entirely in Ukrainian but translated via headphones, it dealt with the topic: To be Heard: What Narratives About Ukraine Do We Create? Participating were PEN Ukraine members Oleksandr Mykhed and Iryna Tsilyk (director, The Earth is Blue as an Orange), actress Rita Burkovska, and moderated by cultural critic Anastasia Platonova. Unfortunately, I must paraphrase much of the conversation due to the language barrier. However, given the previous evening’s Nova Kakhovka dam destruction, the conversation seemed to be given a resurgent emphasis. With a focus on actively shaping the Ukrainian future, the panel also focused on engaging narratives with outsiders, whether from the immediate vicinity (Europe) or those more detached (USA, Japan, Australia). Here, interesting local perspectives on foreign engagement with wartime narratives were presented, including addressing the anti-NATO argument and a tendency for those without direct interaction with war to appropriate its suffering. Ultimately, the panel’s continued emphasis was on the war as one of national erasure, not civil or anti-terror. Here, Rita Burkovska stated whether people arguing for equal Russian perspectives would say the same about Bashar Al Assad or Al Qaeda. As a foreigner and a far-western one at that, the conversation covered many of my own conflicting perspectives on this war and the history of modern warfare in general. From my inherent distrust of (any) American-led military motivation to the over-saturation of pontificating voices without much direct experience, it felt like all was addressed and done through the voices of those who know best.
As 6 June gave into 7, it was time to head to my afternoon bus and a new 20+ hour journey back to Bucharest. Upon leaving, we were alerted to the potential air threat via the official air alarm application, so my departure from the hotel was delayed by some 60 minutes. In that time, it would give me ample opportunity to begin reflecting on the festival, city, and experiences gained over the past few days. Given the Pentecost holiday, and a vibrant street carnival complete with multiple live music acts, a ferris wheel, food, and more, Kyiv was ripe with activity (its near-constant, cloudless blue skies undoubtedly factoring as well). Each day, the arts and craft markets lining the street from hotel to venue provided an assortment of trinkets and collectables, from Ukrainian solidarity messaging to rare Soviet records (I proudly walked away with vintage offerings from The Rolling Stones and Black Sabbath). Restaurants also remained open (personal favourite, the bullet-constructed tables of service personnel memorial-cum-pizzeria, Veterano Pizza), the bars consistently packed to the brim.
Additionally, my experience included the sites of St. Michael’s Cathedral and Maidan Square, each holding visceral reminders of the conflict at hand. In St Michael’s square, the bombed-out remnants of Russian military vehicles; in Maidan, the ever-growing collection of flags representing civilians killed since the war’s start. In his winter 2022 dispatch from the shortened Molodist International Film Festival, Nick Holdsworth described both from a city often plunged into darkness, with an energy infrastructure having been destroyed by some 40%. That festival saw four international guests arrive on-site. By June 2023, some things have changed, and some remain the same. The electricity is largely back, but the crowds, not so much.
For some 16 months now, global intellectuals have pondered the theoretical dos and don’ts of continued armament, academics have theorised on the ideals of potential multipolar existence, and cultural figures have provided their best hashtag activism and strongly worded editorials on all aspects of this war. Modern Times Review is among them, with editor-in-chief Truls Lie writing in June 2022: «Modern Times Review does not support at all Putin’s invasion of Ukraine, the use of military force as a «solution» or the exercise of dictatorial and oligarchic economic power that Russia’s totalitarian leadership represents,» while also asking, «is this not also a proxy war between the United States and Russia – as the United States has stated that Russia should be weakened as a state?» (See Also: Totalitarianism then and now, Fascinating fascism and seductive leaders). Every one of these people, ourselves included, has the right to debate, ponder, and ask such questions. However, they also must not lose sight of the fact that a country of 40 million is experiencing a conflict of genuine, tangible consequence, with each and every person’s experience existing far outside the theoretical idealism of geopolitical discourse. With this context, the organisation and execution of the 20th Docudays UA was beyond a commendable act. Not only in the face of unique adversity but doing so while maintaining a diverse, interesting, engaging, and well-rounded film festival experience. Also commendable are the international jury, who each attended their duties in person, as well as a handful of other international guests. Let us hope it won’t be necessary, but I would urge (and hope) others will join from beyond Ukraine’s borders in the future. Travel, see, feel, and experience what talk and media cannot provide.
