Many
of the so-called separatists in Ukraine’s Donetsk region are really Russian
military out of uniform. What are the implications for Russian-speakers who
chose to support this illegal military operation? Nothing short of the death of
civil society and the beginning of their own oppression. That is the inescapable
takeaway that comes through loud and clear in Belorussian-born, formerly
Russian-based Ukrainian filmmaker Sergei Loznitsa’s Donbass,
Ukraine’s official foreign language Oscar submission, which screens as the opening
night film of this year’s First Look at MoMI.
Disinformation
(the term “fake news” makes it sound trivial) is a major theme running through Donbass. As the film opens, a group of
extras are in makeup, awaiting their closeups in a bogus Russian news report
about a phony “fascist” bus bombing (torched by the Russian propagandists
themselves). It is crude, yet somewhat effective.
Thus,
begins a rondo-style film, in which members of the would-be Russian breakaway
puppet-state confront their new masters. We see paramilitaries menace the
German journalist their commanders are trying to favorably impress. One of the
new political wheeler-dealers tries to make a show for the staff and media of a
stockpile of supplies supposedly confiscated from the former hospital director,
but nobody is buying it (least of all him).
In
one of the film’s most potent and stinging sequences, a Russian-inclined small
business owner learns what happens when he tries to assert his rights and claim
the van appropriated by the separatist paramilitaries. Viewers familiar with
Loznitsa’s work will see shades of My Joy
in a narrative arc that out as a satire of bureaucracy, but quickly evolves
into a blend of Kafkaesque and Orwellian horror. Perhaps the most damning but
least overtly political segment chronicles the rowdy marriage ceremony of two
ghoulish crude supporters of the new Russian-backed regime. Here we see shades
of the grotesque absurdity he previously unleashed in A Gentle Creature.
Yet,
frame-for-frame and second-for-second, easily the most horrifying segment dramatizes
the public pillorying of a Ukrainian self-defense force volunteer captured by
the Russian-controlled separatist gangs. The brutal beatings and humiliations
meted down on him are a sickening spectacle, which his tormentors gleefully
record on their smart phones. It is a staggering sequence of cinema, anchored by
the silent dignity of Valery Antoniuk’s performance as the tortured prisoner.
Yet,
the kicker is the wrap-around conclusion that returns to the actors appearing
in the propaganda reports. What happens to them makes it bitingly clear those
collaborating with the Russians are only sowing the seeds of their own misery. It
is a brilliant, bracing finish.
In
some ways, Donbass is stylistically akin
to Roy Andersson’s A Pigeon Sat on a
Branch Reflecting on Existence, but it comes from the other side of the
political spectrum and it has much more to say. Granted, the relay-rondo
structure inevitably produces a bit of unevenness, but it is frequently
razor-sharp, forceful as heck, and relentlessly honest. This is a major
cinematic statement from one of the most important filmmakers working today.
Very highly recommended, Donbass screens
this Friday (1/11) at MoMI, launching First Look 2019.
