'Atentat': a review and behind-the-scenes look at film about Ukraine's struggle for freedom (06/09/96)

'Atentat': a review and behind-the-scenes look at film about Ukraine's struggle for freedom

by Tamara Stadnychenko
Special to The Ukrainian Weekly

Once upon a time, a young Ukrainian filmmaker named Oles Yanchuk brought to the West a film about the great Ukrainian famine. In the film, "Famine-33", Mr. Yanchuk personalized the history of the famine, encapsulating the deaths of millions from starvation by focusing on the tragic story of a single family. The film was well received by the Ukrainian diaspora and was reviewed in the American press.

The New York Times critic Stephen Holden extolled the film's "indelible images"; Time magazine's Richard Corliss commented on its "meticulously brutal imagery"; and the Village Voice, in a composite review that contrasted Steven Spielberg's $28 million budget with Mr. Yanchuk's modest $150,000, "Famine-33" was favorably compared to "Schindler's List."

In October of 1995, Mr. Yanchuk's new film "Atentat" ("Assassination: An October Murder in Munich") premiered in Kyiv. The title and promotional materials are deceptive, suggesting that the film is a biographical portrait of Stepan Bandera. It is, instead, a portrait of Ukraine's struggle for independence, a portrait in which Stepan Bandera is juxtaposed with a host of other characters, and in which events and historical realities are perhaps more significant than any individual role in the film.

Filling in blank pages of history

Mr. Yanchuk himself is adamant about the distinction. "Atentat," like "Famine-33," he insists, is a film about a period in Ukrainian history that has been too long ignored or hidden in his native Ukraine. Both films were born of a desire to fill in some of the blank pages of Ukrainian history.

Since the premiere of "Atentat in Kyiv, the director and his new film have toured extensively throughout the United States and Canada. In most cities where both films were shown the attendance for screenings of "Atentat" has exceeded the attendance for "Famine-33."

The new film, in many ways, is easier on the psyche. Hollywood, after all, has desensitized most of us to the blood and gore of war movies, and "Atentat," with its interwoven love story, its moments of comic relief, and its rather optimistic conclusion is easier to take than "Famine-33." In "Famine-33," everyone dies. The film ends on a note of despair. The viewer leaves the theater feeling that the lone survivor of the Katrynnyk family, a little boy, doesn't have much of a chance - before too long, he, too, will succumb to starvation. In "Atentat," there are survivors who seem to have some sort of future. It is hidden and uncertain, but it is possible.

Artistically, "Famine-33" is perhaps a better film. There is an unadulterated sincerity, an integrity that is possible only in a film about unrelenting and unmitigated tragedy. "Atentat" is not to be blamed for this disparity as the nature of the subject matter makes it a different species of film, one in which the story line dominates too strongly for the film to be pure art. While "Famine-33" can be viewed almost as a cinematographic obituary, "Atentat" is both story and history, and relies on the memories and accounts of survivors. The new film cannot claim the tragic depth of genocide. It has other strengths, however, among them Mr. Yanchuk's scrupulous attention to detail, which translates into technical superiority.

In "Famine-33" fake rain was easily recognized as fake rain. Villains were too villainous, and villains who should have spoken Russian didn't. While the new film is not perfect, these problems no longer exist. The snow is real and so are the villains. They are multi-dimensional characters that have personalities. They are despicable, but they are human.

In one scene in the film, for example, Bandera's courier is interrogated by an MGB officer. The interrogator is brutal, but behind the brutality one sees wit and intelligence. This is a human being - not a caricature. The portrayal of Stashynsky, Bandera's assassin, is masterful. The assassin becomes an assassin, he does not appear in the film with that ready-made identity. One sees the process of corruption that led him to commit the assassination - threats, blandishments, coercion, promises of leniency and of reward. He even has a moment of doubt, and while the viewer knows that the assassination will occur, that moment of doubt provides suspense and even a fleeting moment of doubt in the outcome. There is an evolutionary process at work here that speaks well of Mr. Yanchuk's skill as a director - the viewer has become intrigued and wants to see where he will go next.

Other details must be commended, including a scene that almost ended up on the cutting room floor. Early in the film, we are treated to the childish prattle of Bandera's young daughter. She is excited about going to school. There will be an opportunity to be with other children. She pleads wistfully to be allowed to venture beyond the gate. When told that she must wait for her father, that the family must go together, she plaintively replies that father will probably stay up writing all night.

The intimate family vignette enhances the political and military machinations of the adult world. History takes a back seat for a moment as the viewer is made to feel the personal tragedy of a child who cannot live a normal life. Bandera, if only for a moment, is seen not as a political force, but as the father of a little girl who is forbidden to go outside and play like other little girls.

In this film, Mr. Yanchuk has also learned the secret of subtly wooing viewers by engaging their curiosity. Early in the film a solitary figure on a motorcycle rides on a deserted road. His identity is unknown, his purpose and his destination are unknown - intriguing secrets that demand answers and keep the viewer's attention riveted.

Not as well developed is the film's love life. The romance between Orlyk and Marta blossoms rather too soon even if you do believe in love at first sight. It is over-sentimentalized, Hollywood at its fairy-tale worst. Romantic dialogue between Orlyk and Marta is sometimes painfully corny; the flashbacks each has about the other equally so.

The subtitles, though generally accurate, have an almost comical flaw. Coarse language among soldiers is a fact of life. This comes across well enough when one listens to the Ukrainian dialogue in the film; in the subtitles, "sukyn syn" and similar expressions have been sanitized - all expletives deleted.

Other flaws in the film can probably be attributed to a tight budget - special effects and even not-so-special effects can be better accomplished with $28 million than with a far smaller budget.

This writer first saw fragments of "Atentat" a year ago, then saw the finished product on VCR and finally on a movie screen. Each time, my favorite scene was one that poignantly depicts a theme all diaspora Ukrainians were weaned on: the tradition of the Ukrainian freedom fighter marching into battle, armed with little more than pride, courage and a song. In the scene, a freshly showered UPA [Ukrainian Insurgent Army] unit marches to a meeting with destiny. They are marching not to face enemy machine guns, but to be interviewed by a military tribunal of the American occupying forces in Germany that has the power to decide their fate: freedom to continue their struggle for an independent Ukraine, or repatriation to the USSR. On their leader's command, "Lemko, a song!", the decimated UPA unit seems to shed its concern about what the meeting with the Americans will bring. "For Ukraine we live; for Ukraine we die," they sing. For this reviewer, the scene is a visual and musical confirmation of a long-held perception.

From concept to realization

Before the film was a film, during various stages of production, and after the Philadelphia premiere, I had the opportunity to discuss "Atentat" and filmmaking in general with the director. I was curious, above all, about how the idea for "Atentat" was conceived and how it evolved from concept to realization.

Six years ago, while working on "Famine-33," Mr. Yanchuk was at the Harvard Ukrainian Research Institute, where he was presented with a copy of Dr. Roman Mirchuk's biography of Stepan Bandera. The book intrigued Mr. Yanchuk - it was on a subject he knew nothing about.

He described his curiosity in great detail: "There was no literature on this in Ukraine.

"There was nothing on this mentioned in school. I needed to find out more about this man, about the OUN, [Organization of Ukrainian Nationalists] about the UPA, about the Ukrainian diaspora. Who were these people? What were they about? This was a new opportunity for me to learn about the 'other side' of things that in Ukraine were either hidden entirely or perverted to suit party ideology.

"From that time I began collecting information whenever and wherever I could - in the U.S., in Canada, in Germany. In 1993, for example, I was in Munich and had to see for myself where a part of this story took place. I went to No. 67 Zeppelinstrasse, once the OUN headquarters, now the Ukrainian Political Science Institute.

"In Canada, I obtained books on the subject from Oleh Romanyshyn, editor of Homin' Ukrainy. And more books from Natsionalna Trybuna. From the Ukrainian Congress Committee of America, more books and documents. Other information was gleaned from conversations with Prof. Wolodymyr Stojko, Slava Stetsko and Mykhailo Zelenchuk, the head of the UPA Brotherhood in Ukraine.

"I interviewed people who had lived the history and who provided me with details I couldn't find in the books. In Kyiv, for example, I met with Lev Futala, who gave me all kinds of information about weapons and about UPA uniforms. In the West, I had access to people who were actively involved in the UPA or were witnesses to the events I knew so little about. The information was collected grain by grain."

Film poses questions

"The idea for making the film generated from these grains. The decision was made in l993 while I was in Toronto. It had to be made - not to answer a question, but to ask. Why did these events happen? Why did so many Ukrainians become immigrants? And always - who were these people and what were they about?", he said.

Later that year Mr. Yanchuk collaborated with cinematographer Vasyl Portiuk on a screenplay. He commented on this: "We had no money and no concrete plans on how the project would be financed, but the film had to be made and we took a risk. Creating a film is like fishing. You cast the line and wonder if anything will come of it. In both cases, there is hope."

The financing for the project came later. In the United States, armed with his screenplay for "Atentat," Mr. Yanchuk turned to Ukrainian diaspora organizations that had helped make "Famine-33" a reality. The organization that ultimately adopted the project and was its chief backer and sponsor was the Ukrainian Congress Committee of America. According to Mr. Yanchuk, it was a commitment championed by UCCA President Askold Lozynskyj. "He believed in my creative capabilities and was immediately supportive," Mr. Yanchuk noted. Other funds came from Air Ukraine, from the Ukraine-based SLID (a financial investment company) and Business Security, another Ukrainian company. There were individual contributors as well.

Funds in hand, production on the film began. There were difficulties associated with the production, ranging from physical risks faced by actors when scenes were shot on thin spring ice, to the problems of coordinating travel and transportation of the crew and equipment to 60 different locations.

A limited budget

The biggest headache, according to Mr. Yanchuk, was money:

"I had a limited budget and inflation in Ukraine was sky high at the time we were filming. We filmed many of the scenes in the fall - short days meant more days of filming. There was a lot of personal stress for me - times when I actually felt rather than thought how much the next 15 minutes would cost for labor, for meals, for lodging, for equipment rental. There was an almost physical fear that the money would run out before the film was finished. "I became a merciless tyrant, firing people for being late for a shoot. For many, this was strange, unprecedented. I have learned most of what I know about the business end of filmmaking in the West, and I told them they had to work like Americans. I kept repeating 'Time is money, Time is money,' and many of them finally began to understand what I meant."

Despite his concerns over finances, Mr. Yanchuk found the process gratifying and was especially happy with the casting. "There were moments," he commented, "when I intuitively felt 'This is working - this is good.' I was especially pleased with the performance of Volodymyr Muka, the actor who played Bandera. He had a personal energy that made things move. It was as though he were made for the role, or maybe the role was made for him. Of course, Bandera was a short man and Mr. Muka is very tall. Where he was filmed with other people, we had him crouching or had them standing on boxes."

Mr. Yanchuk was pleased also with the work of the many novices who were making their film debut in "Atentat." Of the American and Canadian nationals who played the roles of Americans, he said," I wanted authentic accents."

He laughed at his own cameo appearances in the film (once as a goofy, gum-chewing American private and once as one of the American officers interviewing the UPA internees). "I trained as an actor while studying to be a director, and an actor is sometimes like a woman waiting for a marriage proposal. Nobody proposed. Now I was the director and I was calling the shots, so why not?"

Mr. Yanchuk also explained his views on the art of filmmaking. "A film has to be visual, a finished, realized thought in pictures where words and dialogue are secondary," he said. "Creating a film is like having a child. Both need attention, nurturing. I gave 'Famine-33' two years of my life, and I am doing the same with 'Atentat.' I'm not embarrassed by either. I'm glad they exist, glad they have life. I don't think one is better than the other - if you have two children, one is different from the other, but you don't love one better than the other."

The reaction to the film in Ukraine has been positive. Mr. Yanchuk and I spoke briefly about the Kyiv premiere, which took place on October 15, 1995, the anniversary of Bandera's assassination. He also commented more fully on current and future plans for showing the film in other parts of Ukraine, particularly in eastern Ukraine. "The film has been playing in Dnipropetrovske and audiences are responding well. For these people 'Atentat' is a first look at totally unknown, totally new historical facts," he said.

But to promote the film in other cities in eastern Ukraine, Mr. Yanchuk will be doing his own distributing, traveling to meetings with theater owners and regional film distributors in his own car, transporting film reels here, there and elsewhere to make a personal pitch. He noted some ironic moments in respect to distributing the film. "A film distributor from Donetske came to see me in Kyiv and expressed a great interest in the film. Negotiations were moving along smoothly and then she asked me if the film was available in Russian. The only response I could think of was 'not yet.'"

There are plans to enter "Atentat" in international film festivals, and Mr. Yanchuk is considering screenings throughout Europe, in Australia and in South America. There is a tentative idea for a new film, an idea the director is reluctant to disclose prematurely, but one that again revolves around historical personages and events that have piqued his interest and will once again rely heavily on materials he can find only in the West.

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