“Once these ones hit, we’ll come home. Kisses.”
When the world around you is falling apart, what does it mean to do anything more than survive. This is the very question asked in the new film, Porcelain War, a documentary that shows the horrors of war and the fight for hope within it.
Directed by Brendan Bellomo and Slava Leontyev, Porcelain War takes the viewer behind the frontlines of the Ukraine. Under the roar of fighter jets overhead, Ukrainian artists Slava, Anya and Andrey work hard to create works of art in a land on fire. Caught between worlds, the three attempt to hold on to their passion for life at a time when so many around them live in fear.
Simply put, Porcelain War is a stunning experience. Featuring unbelievable—and terrifying—footage, Bellomo and Leontyev take the viewer into the war. This isn’t a film that merely shows the aftermath of destruction but the horrors of it in real time. We watch as drone strikes break down opposing tanks and missiles take down buildings. Without becoming too graphic, we see bodies on the street.
In short, Porcelain pulls no punches.
But, even in the midst of these treacherous circumstances, one of the saddest aspects of the film is the way that the Ukranian people have simply… adapted. As everyday people are being trained to be soldiers, they have also acknowledge the ways that war has changed their lives. Now, after a year and a half, the shock of war has given way to (almost) acceptance. Suddenly, waiting for missile strikes to pass have become an everyday occurrence. It’s not that they don’t care. It’s simply that they’ve become numb. (This is most evidenced when, trapped in a building, Slave flatly tells Anya that he’ll wait for the missiles to pass and then come home, as if it’s a mere inconvenience.) War has forever altered their way of life and they have adjusted accordingly.
And, somehow, that makes the film even more horrifying. Despite the tragedies around them, the way that the people of the Ukraine have acquiesced to their participation in a war that they have little interest in is devastating. Similar to the recent Russians at War, this is a film that highlights the way that those in the war aren’t passionate about its political issues. Instead, they’re simply fighting for their lives. Every military incursion is merely another strike against their homes. In essence, they fight not because they hate the opposition.
They fight because they must.
Though, what gives Porcelain its heart is its love of… well… porcelain. Slava, Andrey and Anya’s commitment to their art isn’t merely shown as a distraction from the horrors that surround them. To them, the creative process is an act of defiance. In a place that seeks to dehumanize them all, their ability to bring art to the world is the opportunity to rebuild beauty. (“The stories we tell through art is also our resistance,” we’re told.) The simplicity of their porcelain figures leaves recognition of their existence, sharing their sensibilities and passion.
To some, they may seem like trinkets. But, to these artists, they’re an opportunity to matter.
In this way, there’s a spark of joy in the midst of the battlefield. Anya, Slava and Andrey have found something worth clinging to at a time when life would seem to want them to give up. And it’s that flicker of light in a darkened world that makes Porcelain War special.
Porcelain War is available in theatres now.
