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, another powerful documentary that follows two female combat medics in a way that manages to be funny, frightening and tragic at the same time.
...
It's not only the 'serious' arts tackling the war these days. Musicals, the ultimate form of escapism, are in on the act too. Just over the road from the cinema, I spotted a banner for the latest offering from the Kyiv Opera: Patriot, a rock opera in two acts.
The story takes the audience through Ukraine's recent history - from revolution to war. All the songs are hugely popular anthems of Ukrainian independence so the audience on premiere night whooped along, swept to their feet at times.
...
The same ethos is driving the current explosion of documentaries. Since February 2022, TV news channels in Ukraine have towed the official line and told reassuring stories in the name of unity. But independent filmmakers zoom in on the hardship.
...
We would really like to watch other movies – maybe some comedies or some drama, is how one filmgoer, Natalia, put it on her way out of a screening of Cuba and Alyaska. Of course I don't want to watch these movies, but I have to, like everyone else. Because it's our history and it's our present day.
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, another powerful documentary that follows two female combat medics in a way that manages to be funny, frightening and tragic at the same time.
...
It's not only the 'serious' arts tackling the war these days. Musicals, the ultimate form of escapism, are in on the act too. Just over the road from the cinema, I spotted a banner for the latest offering from the Kyiv Opera: Patriot, a rock opera in two acts.
The story takes the audience through Ukraine's recent history - from revolution to war. All the songs are hugely popular anthems of Ukrainian independence so the audience on premiere night whooped along, swept to their feet at times.
...
The same ethos is driving the current explosion of documentaries. Since February 2022, TV news channels in Ukraine have towed the official line and told reassuring stories in the name of unity. But independent filmmakers zoom in on the hardship.
...
We would really like to watch other movies – maybe some comedies or some drama, is how one filmgoer, Natalia, put it on her way out of a screening of Cuba and Alyaska. Of course I don't want to watch these movies, but I have to, like everyone else. Because it's our history and it's our present day.
