Even with the lowest of budgets, most feature-length films will require a few years from writing and planning to shooting and editing (not to mention distribution). Consequently, with almost four years passed since Russia launched its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, an increasing number of war-themed projects are coming to fruition.
Oscar glory
In 2024, journalist Mstyslav Chernov’s ”20 Days in Mariupol” won the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature, as well as the BAFTA Film Award for Best Documentary.
It revealed many of the atrocities that Russia committed during the siege of Mariupol in 2022, including mass graves and the attack on a maternity hospital. The first-hand footage from a Ukrainian team of Associated Press journalists provided a raw testament of the conflict from within, as well as a report on reporting itself.
In 2025, Brendan Bellomo and Slava Leontyev’s “Porcelain War” was nominated for an Oscar but missed out on Best Documentary Feature to a different take on conflict – the Palestinian-Israeli film “No Other Land.” However, “Porcelain War” had already won a Grand Jury Prize at the Sundance Film Festival, the epicentre of independent cinema.
In 2026, Mstyslav Chernov hopes for another Oscar nomination with “2000 Meters to Andriivka,” currently on The Academy’s shortlist of 15 documentary features.
54th Molodist International Film Festival
In late October I had the huge privilege of attending the Molodist Kyiv International Film Festival. In addition to two Ukrainian features, I enjoyed Colombian retro-futuristic fantasy “Rains over Babel” and awkward British dom-com “Pillion.”
Bohdan Zhuk, programmer at Molodist and director of its breakout LGBTQ+ Sunny Bunny Festival, explained how tricky it is to run a film festival in wartime: “The schedule is tight anyhow, plus we pay to rent out the Zhovten auditoriums in Podil. Any cancellation has multiple repercussions and cannot be easily rearranged.”
A disclaimer before every screening at Molodist explained that – in the event of an air raid siren – the nearby metro station of Kontraktova Ploshcha could serve as a bomb shelter. “However, the film will continue to project regardless.” This shrewd workaround allowed members of the audience to finish off a film at their own risk, with no mass evacuation and no need to reschedule.
But another potential disruptor was harder to resolve: the sudden loss of electrical supply. Having viewed multiple films at multiple times with no issues that week, a power cut was destined to occur during the national premiere of British indie hit “Urchin” – the final film of my visit. After 20 long, optimistic minutes in a dark auditorium, it was confirmed that a back-up generator could not be activated, and so we all exited in frustrated silence.
Life imitating art
“Amid the war in Ukraine, Tanya and Zenit’s fragile love story unfolds, stretched between moments of closeness and conflict. Meanwhile, a group of children play war, building block posts, and imagining futures defined by violence.”
This was how the Molodist program described the first (American-German-Ukrainian) feature I watched, “In Case We Never Meet Again.”
What was remarkable, was that this was documentary, not fiction. Callsign Zenit and his partner Tanya were extremely generous, sharing so much intimacy – both their joy and their fears – in such a natural manner. It is not uncommon to hear of a wife (and children) fleeing Ukraine, only to return sometime later to a more meaningful life with their husband. But here we watch as every detail unravels and then reconnects.
Also incredible was how Romanian co-director Noaz Deshe became familiar with local children. He candidly filmed their day-to-day games, passing almost unnoticed amidst what would otherwise have been considered highly choreographed sequences. The result is an astute portrait of a young generation in trauma.
Art imitating life
“Set against the dramatic backdrop of the beginning of the full-scale war in 2022 Ukraine, and filmed entirely in Ukraine under bombs, air raid sirens, and military curfew – the film follows Sofia, a young Ukrainian singer trying to make it in L.A., who travels to Kyiv for the first time in four years just as the war breaks out, forcing her to make an impossible choice between career and home, safety and love.”This was how the Molodist program described the second Ukrainian feature I watched, “Our House is on Fire.”
While a fictional narrative, so much of this story was familiar that it felt like a documentary. With the desire to portray the start of the full-scale invasion faithfully, the initial denial soon becomes a frantic rush to flee the capital. As with so many real-life residents, our protagonists then find themselves in the wrong place, at the wrong time, within Kyiv region.
The initial metaphor of a grand party interrupted comments on the change to every Ukrainian’s lifestyle in February 2022. A newborn baby symbolises a stronger nation reborn. We see the active choice to reject the Russian language. The final scenes pay tribute to so many young souls who rushed to follow their sense of duty and defend their country against invasion. A false picnic reminds us of life in 2021.
During the Q&A, one member of the audience, who said he had lost close friends in Bahmut, poignantly asked director Alice Biletska to explain for whom this film was made. His point was that for too many Ukrainians, the recent past remains too raw to reflect upon.
The list continues...
It was actually “Fatigued,” – another Ukrainian feature (that I missed), which took the Molodist Grand Prix. This fictional film is Ukrainian cinematographer Yurii Dunai’s first work as a director.
As Jury member Valeria Sochyvets explained: “This film is fragile, just as our lives are, and poignantly quiet, even though it speaks of immense, inarticulate suffering. It asks a painfully important question: ‘Does the world really understand what we mean when we talk about war?’”
Shortly after Molodist ended, another Ukrainian feature documentary had its world premiere at the 35th Cottbus Film Festival in Berlin. Anton Shtuka’s film, “The Last Prometheus of Donbas” bears witness to the final days of the Kurakhivka thermal power plant in the Donetsk region, and its heroic workers.
“It tells the stories of people who fought for light until the very end, during the final days of a Ukrainian industrial giant,” explains director Shtuka.
“It is a film about light born in defiance of darkness.” Words that not only sum up this Ukrainian production, but so many more to come.