I've never heard an audience so silent.
When the credits rolled on a screening of '2000 metres to Andriivka', no-one in the Kyiv cinema moved. Their popcorn and beer were mostly untouched.
The documentary by Mstyslav Chernov is a frontline film so intense you feel like you're trapped in the terrifying trenches alongside the soldiers. Watching that in Ukraine, a country under fire, the intensity is multiplied.
At the start of Russia's full-scale invasion in 2022, as society mobilised to defend itself, Ukraine had little capacity for culture. Venues were closed or repurposed, some were attacked, and artists became refugees or soldiers. Almost four years on, the arts are back - but everything is now permeated by the war.
The change struck me on a recent trip to Kyiv. I realised that city walls were plastered with two kinds of poster: fundraisers for forces on the frontline - or films, plays and exhibitions about the war. 'Andriivka' wasn't the only hard hitting film on offer; there were also ads for 'Cuba and Alyaska', a documentary that follows two female combat medics in an engaging mix of humor and tragedy.
Some people in Kyiv shy away from all of this. War is their reality: it's what keeps them up at night, with air defense warnings. It's all over their social media feeds and affects their fears for friends and family who continue to fight. For them, the last thing they want to see is more reminders of conflict.
Yet, others are clearly drawn to these narratives. 'We would really like to watch other movies – maybe some comedies,' expressed one filmgoer after a screening. Even in musicals, which are often forms of escapism, the war is a frequent theme. A current production, the Kyiv Opera's 'Patriot', embeds stories of loss and resilience while using popular anthems to evoke the spirit of independence.
The contrast between arts is palpable: intense war documentaries draw silence, whereas lively rock operas inspire cheers. Despite the plethora of war-related art, there lies a deep desire among Ukrainians for lighter narratives in times when laughter is essential for cope.
When the credits rolled on a screening of '2000 metres to Andriivka', no-one in the Kyiv cinema moved. Their popcorn and beer were mostly untouched.
The documentary by Mstyslav Chernov is a frontline film so intense you feel like you're trapped in the terrifying trenches alongside the soldiers. Watching that in Ukraine, a country under fire, the intensity is multiplied.
At the start of Russia's full-scale invasion in 2022, as society mobilised to defend itself, Ukraine had little capacity for culture. Venues were closed or repurposed, some were attacked, and artists became refugees or soldiers. Almost four years on, the arts are back - but everything is now permeated by the war.
The change struck me on a recent trip to Kyiv. I realised that city walls were plastered with two kinds of poster: fundraisers for forces on the frontline - or films, plays and exhibitions about the war. 'Andriivka' wasn't the only hard hitting film on offer; there were also ads for 'Cuba and Alyaska', a documentary that follows two female combat medics in an engaging mix of humor and tragedy.
Some people in Kyiv shy away from all of this. War is their reality: it's what keeps them up at night, with air defense warnings. It's all over their social media feeds and affects their fears for friends and family who continue to fight. For them, the last thing they want to see is more reminders of conflict.
Yet, others are clearly drawn to these narratives. 'We would really like to watch other movies – maybe some comedies,' expressed one filmgoer after a screening. Even in musicals, which are often forms of escapism, the war is a frequent theme. A current production, the Kyiv Opera's 'Patriot', embeds stories of loss and resilience while using popular anthems to evoke the spirit of independence.
The contrast between arts is palpable: intense war documentaries draw silence, whereas lively rock operas inspire cheers. Despite the plethora of war-related art, there lies a deep desire among Ukrainians for lighter narratives in times when laughter is essential for cope.
