June 28, 2019

FILM REVIEW: At The Ukrainian Museum’s film festival

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Stills from the film “Our Ukrainian American Legacy” by Roman Brygider.

NEW YORK – The Ukrainian Museum in New York has been hosting its UM Film Festival for 10 years now. For 2019, Programs Director Hania Krill-Pyziur selected and introduced four contemporary films, of which three were documentaries. Several directors and other experts were on hand to talk with movie lovers over three days from May 31 to June 2. Two of the films screened were clear hits, while the remaining two missed the mark.

“Crimea: Russia’s Dark Secret,” 2018

Running a compact 48 minutes, “Crimea: Russia’s Dark Secret” is an excellent and moving documentary. It was produced for Aljazeera broadcast by Lisa Yasko, founder of Yellow Blue Strategy NGO, which is devoted to pro-Ukrainian cultural diplomacy through events and filmmaking. (Readers may recall that Ms. Yasko sang and played piano on the frigid Maidan barricades.)

Director Jamie Doran is an award-winning Irish-Scottish independent documentary filmmaker and former BBC producer. Mr. Doran’s numerous films shed light on taboo subjects, and have been featured worldwide on PBS “Frontline,” BBC “Panorama,” Aljazeera and major TV networks in Germany, Denmark and Japan.

Huseyin Oylupinar, Ph.D., traveled from Harvard to deliver a prequel. Affirming that all Russian claims to Crimea are fraudulent, Dr. Oylupinar outlined how Ukrainian-Crimean Tatar relations over the centuries were mostly peaceful and even included periods of extended cooperation. Cultural relations between the two neighbors were continuous.

By contrast, Russian narrative always portrayed Crimean Tatars as nothing but plunderers and raiders, primitives who didn’t deserve their own homeland. And so, to establish Black Sea ports, Catherine II illegally annexed Crimea in 1783. 

Following Joseph Stalin’s 1944 brutal deportations of over 400,000 Crimean Tatars (an ethnic genocide), the return of any survivors from Uzbekistan in the late 1980s was tightly controlled by the Russians. However, this was transformed into a positive experience under an independent Ukraine, with the eventual return of 250,000 Crimean Tatars to their homeland. 

But up to 60 percent of the Crimean Tatar population perished as a result of the original deportations. Today, after the Kremlin’s second illegal annexation in 2014, Crimea is under autocratic military administration during an unprovoked Russian occupation.

This film outlines horrific details of Stalin’s deportations. Living in Kyiv, Mustafa Dzhemilev, leader of the Crimean Tatars, works to expose these Russian crimes.

The central thrust of Mr. Doran’s powerful documentary is today’s extensive ongoing resistance within Crimea. Following the first crackdowns in 2014, numerous disappearances, killings of activists and protesters, long incarcerations, endless “trials” and uphill battles for lawyers have multiplied.

The Russian narrative of “long-awaited reunification” is belied by film clips of their heavily armored military presence. Constant raids by the militia supported by the Russian FSB (secret police) occur daily. Tens of thousands of Crimean Tatars fled to Ukraine from this “joyful reunion with Russia.”

Recently, police ransacked a Crimean Tatar’s home, then drummed up a “terrorist” charge after finding a Muslim religious book.  He was actually punished for live streaming other similar raids.

The Kremlin fears truth and is rewriting history for Crimea. A newly minted propaganda statue depicts a little girl offering flowers to the “polite men” (the invading Russian troops). Some 80,000 Ukrainian books were destroyed following the invasion, and replaced by Russian indoctrination texts. The Russians shut down the only existing Crimean Tatar TV station. Jamala, the winner of the 2016 Eurovision Song contest (with her song “1944” about the deportation) was forced into exile in Ukraine. For both the Soviets and the Russians, a Crimean Tatar culture never existed.

[According to QHA, the Crimean News Agency, Russia has now methodically destroyed or removed countless cultural treasures from occupied Crimea. Under the pretext of “restoration,” priceless artifacts were robbed for the Hermitage Museum and “everything will be split apart into small pieces to end up in private collections, and in its place will remain a heap of construction debris.” – Author’s note.] 

Yet optimism still lives. While Mr. Dzhemilev is banned from Crimea, his wife, Safinar, continues to live in Bakhchisarai. She recently stated in an interview: “We’re not easily intimidated by Russia. We’ve dealt with them before. We know what a monster they are.” 

Following the documentary’s screening, Dr. Oylupinar revealed little-known facts; following annexation, Russian leader Vladimir Putin offered Mr. Dzhemilev the presidency of Crimea. Mr. Dzhemilev refused. Later, “certain prominent” member nations of the European Union offered him an “independent” Crimea. Mr. Dzhemilev again refused. 

Many Crimean and Ukrainian activists are combining forces to help reclaim this territory. Clearly, the fate of the two peoples remains linked, and they are committed to helping and supporting each other.

Mr. Doran’s film has a literate script, fine pacing and editing.  It is enthusiastically recommended. 

This screening was coordinated with a moving exhibit at the Ukrainian Museum arranged by Ayla Bakkali, representative of the Crimean Tatar Mejlis in the U.S. It consisted of photo portraits of embattled 80- and 90-year-old Crimean Tatars who returned to their homeland in Crimea after decades of exile.

“Our Ukrainian American Legacy,” 2018

The enjoyable “Our Ukrainian American Legacy” (OUAL) was the final film of the Festival. Of second-generation Ukrainian heritage, director Roman Brygider created OUAL in memory of his parents and grandparents, dedicating it to all of today’s Ukrainian Americans “working for more understanding of Ukraine, and for stability and peace in their homeland.” With three Emmy Awards to his credit as a PBS producer for 18 years, Mr. Brygider described his documentary as a labor of love.

Mr. Brygider related how he lost contact with his roots while growing up on Long Island. In light of current events, he was struck by how little information there was about Ukrainian Americans. 

In 2016, 1 million Americans had familial relations to Ukraine. The film depicts their communities in three states: New York, New Jersey and Pennsylvania. OUAL also discusses historical background to make today’s Russian wars understandable. Mr. Brygider combines many new interviews with older footage to build up a mosaic of the life, activities and values of Ukrainian Americans.

Locations include St. George Church in New York, the Ukrainian Homestead in Lehighton, Pa., and the Whippany Ukrainian Festival at the Ukrainian American Cultural Center of New Jersey in Whippany. Interview subjects include: Prof. Alexander Motyl, Andrij Dobriansky of the Ukrainian Congress Committee of America, “Yara Theater” director Virlana Tkacz, Razom leader Maria Soroka, and Dora Chomiak, who launched UNIAN, a non-governmental news agency for Ukraine.

Particularly memorable were the inspiring success stories of Ms. Soroka and Ms. Chomiak, president and development director, respectively, of Razom (Together) – a thriving organization of savvy young volunteers with a single goal: to unlock the potential of Ukraine. The film showed how Ms. Chomiak organized American neurosurgeons to go to Ukraine, and launched UNIAN.

Many scenes show Ukrainian Americans transmitting their rich heritage. At a folk dance camp, two instructors recalled their favorite Ukrainian sayings: “I am an oak tree and nothing will break me” and “Truth will stab you in the eye.” 

A minor cavil with this documentary might be that perhaps too much material was included. Subjects range from the Budapest Memorandum and corruption under President Leonid Kuchma to historians and community leaders, churches, organizations and festivals, and so much more. Three or four different films might have been fashioned from these topics alone. (Running time was listed 54 minutes, to this author, it clocked closer to 90 minutes.)

In sum, Mr. Brygider’s artistry and enthusiasm merit the highest praise. This film needs to be shown often in public forums, and every Ukrainian will be delighted. Hopefully, Mr. Brygider’s artistry will inspire more such documentary films.

“The First Company” (Persha Sotnia), 2018

Why another film about Maidan or Donbas?

This film’s three directors were Yaroslav Pilunsky, Yury Gruzinov and Yulia Shashkova.  All are members of a production company of young filmmakers called Albatross Communicos. They announced that their film “The First Company” (TFC), filmed in Ukrainian  with English subtitles, would “express the evolution of Ukrainian society in 2013-2017.” They touted this movie as one that would “rip away the masks of civil society in times of conflict,” as a story of “good and evil, hatred and love, disputes and reconciliation,” whose protagonists “against all odds retained their humanity.” Ms. Shashkova was present at the screening to speak and answer questions.

Beginning with New Year champagne-popping euphoria in 2014 on the Maidan, TFC quickly establishes its running theme: to expose the messy side of revolution and war.

Maidan rallying cries (“Glory to the Heroes!”) are countered with anti-heroes: a man berating volunteers who stopped passing firewood during the singing of the anthem, constant vulgar mocking of politicians, and a Maidan leader clamping down on drinking of alcohol.

This “reality” approach uncovers rarely seen activities: Kyiv protesters run drills to carry back the wounded, and troops argue over correct readings of artillery coordinates at Debaltseve.

A soldier is punished for stealing army food to sell for alcohol, while shady scavengers try to abscond with anything of value in the vast garbage heaps at post-Maidan. Soon the story line of the “First Company” sinks amid the confusing editing. Ultimately, this sprawling film becomes difficult to sit through. On and on it lurches towards a treacly ending – a baby’s birth at the frontlines.

And just how spontaneous was the dialogue in this documentary? In one interview published in Ukraine, soldiers asked: “Why was my scene not included in the final cut?” 

Following the screening, Ms. Shashkova stated that the directors’ intent was a “neutral” document. However, a movie claiming to “rip away the masks of civil society” certainly intends to say something.  For whom was this film intended? 

As for concerned Ukrainians – yes, we know our soldiers were not properly equipped, motivated or trained, and had to improvise on the fly. But then, why is there no description of the decades of pervasive corruption in the military? Why is there no mention of the shameful manner in which the brave volunteers of the Right Sector, and the Azov and Don battalions, were not supported by Kyiv?

Some casual viewers might wonder how such a nation of inept protagonists could ever succeed at anything. 

The important question is: Does a country at war really need a deconstruction of the “Revolution of Dignity”? (Some might call a more positive movie “propaganda,” but wouldn’t even that be more appropriate at this time?)

At the closing credits, this reviewer was left with the impression of just too many random trees, with only glimpses of any forest.

“The Gateway” (Brama), 2017

Actor and screenwriter Andrij Witiuk introduced this movie by filmmakers Volodymyr Tykhyy and Yulia Shashkova.

“The Gateway” is a film adaptation of Lviv cult-figure Pavlo Arie’s play “At the Beginning and End of Times,” already staged in several cities. Mr. Tykhyy (a founding member of Ukrainian film group “Babylon’ 13”) determined to film in the actual location of the “Exclusion Zone,” in the village of Luchanky, near the nuclear meltdown in Chornobyl. (The HBO series about Chornobyl was also being broadcast at this time.)

The principal cast members are: Irma Vitovska (Baba Prisya), Vitalina Bibliv (Slava), Dmytro Iaroshenko (Vasya) and Yaroslav Fedorchuk (Vova). The movie was filmed mostly in Ukrainian and some “surzhyk” (with small bits in Russian), and has English subtitles.

The first hour consists of tedious verbal jousts and flashbacks. The central figure is age-old Baba (Granny) Prisya, spunky matriarch of an extended family of hapless misfits who never evacuated the zone, and now scrape out their existence in the dystopian swamps and forests of Polissia. 

Swearing like an admiral, Prisya berates her daughter Slava, whose husband abandoned her and their son, Vova. This son has not been the same since schoolmates cracked his skull trying to glimpse his Chornobyl-affected brain. A naif, Vova is terrified by his Baba’s tales of extraterrestrial “stalkers.” His birthday dream is to “bang lots of hookers” and take a ride on the Kyiv Metro subway. 

Prisya is also a witch. She ingests hallucinogenic mushrooms, rambles about river nymphs (“rusalky”), converses with an entity inside an old radio set, conjures “Einstein” (a giant psychedelic catfish) and swears that blue space aliens have taken over the Ukrainian Parliament. In her relatively more lucid moments, she professes to have horribly butchered more than a score of SS soldiers in World War II. 

Slava plays an old accordion decorated with a huge swastika. She drops her pants for the visiting corrupt cop, Vasya, while Vova watches from the barn loft, masturbating to a photo of the 203-foot-tall, stainless steel “Motherland” (“Rodina Mat”) monument in Kyiv.

In the second half of the film, Vova is wounded in the zone by a lunatic “safari” of anonymous sadists. Prisya makes sure “the guilty ones, a judge and son, are sorry.” Her condolences for those she maimed are expressed in a “prayer” of profane vulgarity. 

Super-feminist Prisya chases away radioactive swarms and screams at the helicopter warning inhabitants to evacuate the irradiated zone. By contrast, all the males in this fantasy are either twisted, mean-spirited and corrupt, or weak and ineffectual.

Ultimately, Prisya murders and dices Vasya into a broth for her daughter. Slava returns with antibiotics for her son, only to find two corpses, but with an exotic soup du jour, waiting for her. Vova gets one of his wishes when he passes through a portal (“Gateway”) with his Baba – to finally experience the Kyiv metro. 

A smorgasbord of Grand Guignol horrors!  This dark burlesque is calculated to challenge intellectuals to furrow their brows and plumb for some “deep meaning.” Is the resolute spirit of foul-mouthed, crazy Prisya supposed to inspire confidence for Ukraine’s survival? Are these twisted, caricatured Polissia legends meant to provoke wonder at our ancient ancestors’ wisdom? Is this surreal, over-the-top black comedy about Chornobyl supposed to lead us to a deeper understanding of that heartrending tragedy? 

This overlong (108 minutes) film is burdened with cumbersome episodes, with many static and “talky” scenes betraying their stage origins. It also suffers from a mix of genres, with many detours into sci-fi fantasy, forays at political commentary and gruesome shocks. 

But even horror films have their rules; they require convincing visuals and detailed acting. For all the praise showered on Ms. Vitovska’s (Baba Prisya) prosthetics “adding over 40 years” to this beautiful actress, the end result is unconvincing. Her cheeks look like a chubby chipmunk, the eye areas are too smooth, and she gambols around the sets like a young mountain goat.

CG (computer graphics) effects are functional, but nothing special.

Enfant terrible dramatist Mr. Arie has lived in Germany, where he is also known for his art installations/performances. He declines to be called an artist, instead considering himself simply a “neo-conceptualist.” For Mr. Arie, the most important element is the idea-concept, which can then be incarnated as a drama, installation, movie and even music.

He has no qualms about broaching taboos like cannibalism. The irreverence of his “satire” (which can easily become cynicism) along with the glitter of his German “pedigree” have turned him into a darling for young Ukrainian actors who seek affirmation in Europe. 

Why are we so dazzled by film festival awards? Both “The First Company” and “The Gateway” seem to have been crafted to primarily deliver frissons for foreign art house crowds instead of delivering life-affirming cinema for Ukrainians. 

Modern Ukrainian cinema is still in its infancy. But it’s not too early to stop looking for validation among Western elites and instead to strike out on a path uniquely our own, based on a sincere treatment of themes resonant for all Ukrainians.

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