Film in the Time of War: The New Generation of Ukrainian Filmmakers

An Interview by August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg

August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg
Five Ukrainian filmmakers discuss how the war has impacted their work, how they see the role of cinema in wartime, and what the institutional landscape of Ukrainian cinema looks like today. The header image: A still from Sashko Danylenko's Istoriya Ukrainy za 5 Khvilyn / The History of Ukraine in 5 Minutes (2019 Ukraine). Courtesy of the author.
Olga Artushevska; Serhii Kastornykh; Igor Parfenov; Ivan Vynarchyk; Ukraine; film industry; war; film festivals.

When Russia invaded Ukraine on February 24, 2022, it marked the start of one of the most mediatised conflicts in history. Using cell phones, Ukrainian civilians captured the missiles flying over their heads and the damage wrought on the ground, the tanks rolling through the streets and the brave souls standing in their way waving Ukrainian flags. The now ubiquitous recording technology guaranteed that this would be a thoroughly documented war.

Yet it was not only film’s evidentiary capacity that was brought to the fore; it was also the diplomatic role film festivals have played since their inception in the equally dark and turbulent 1930s. As the traditional film festival season approached, film was at the forefront of conversations about whose work should be shown and whose work should be boycotted. Sergei Loznitsa, arguably the most famous Ukrainian filmmaker working today, generated controversy by speaking out against boycotts of Russian cinema, especially works critical of the Russian state, and was expelled for this from the Ukrainian Film Academy.

Much of the coverage of both the films – and the controversy – coming out of Ukraine, however, has tended to focus on well-established voices. Yet within the filmmaking community, those most affected by the current crisis are young, up-and-coming directors who were just beginning their careers when the war broke out. In this interview, we wanted to get their perspectives on Ukrainian cinema just before the war, to hear about their own work, and what they make of the role of cinema in wartime.

We were fortunate enough to get in touch with these particular filmmakers because they all submitted work to the GutterBliss Film Festival organised by August Schaller in Wilmington, NC. They represent a fascinating cross-section of Ukrainian society, however. Although all are making their first steps in the filmmaking world, they are nevertheless diverse, coming from both the East and West of the country, with formal and on-the-job training, representing the younger and the somewhat older generations. We conducted the interviews in July and August 2022 over Zoom in a mix of English, Ukrainian, and Russian.

Olga Artushevska is a graduate of Kyiv National I.K. Karpenko-Karyi Theatre, Cinema, and Television University, Ukraine’s foremost film school. Her most recent short film, Valera (2022), tells the story of an alcoholic who becomes an overnight hero after he rescues a drowning boy out of the river. The only problem is that Valera (Oleksandr Yarema) cannot remember it, and consequently feels he does not deserve the compensation. Though only 21, Artushevska was able to recruit some of Ukraine’s most well-known actors for the title roles. The result is a delightful, philosophically-tinged comedy.

Sashko Danylenko is an animator originally from Kharkiv whose work ranges from original mini-series to animated documentary and music videos for the likes of the Kalush Orchestra, Alyona Alyona, and Dakha Brakha. Danylenko has participated in several prestigious residency programs abroad. Since 2015, he has been based in the U.S., but much of his work still involves collaborations with Ukrainian artists (including “The History of Ukraine in 5 Minutes” with famous Ukrainian hip-hop band TNMK) and continues to resonate with Ukrainian audiences.

Serhii Kastornykh, originally from Vyshhorod, worked in television for over ten years before starting to write and then direct his own scripts. He began running his own, independent screenwriting course several years ago, but when the war broke out, volunteered to join the Ukrainian Armed Forces. We were fortunate enough to speak with him during a two-day break from service. His short film, Temni Khvily Stiksu / The Dark Waves of the Styx (Ukraine, 2020), reimagines the serial killer revenge genre. Yak Tam Katia/How Is Katya (Ukraine, 2022), a film he co-wrote with Christina Tynkevich (who directed) just won two prizes at the Locarno Film Festival.

Ivan Vynarchyk, from Lviv, started out as a painter and a poet, arriving at cinema in his late 20s. He is resolute about the advantages of independent productions, despite the challenges they pose. His short film, Mezha / Verge (Ukraine, 2021), explores the psychology of a woman in crisis.

Finally, Igor Parfenov, also from Kharkiv, does not exactly qualify as a ‘young filmmaker’. He has produced five feature films, beginning with Odnazhdy v Ukrainye: Revolutsiya / Once Upon a Time in Ukraine: The Revolution (Ukraine, 2015), shot on the Maidan as those tumultuous events were unfolding. He has now completed a short about the war: Odnazhdy v Ukrainye: Voina/ Once Upon a Time in Ukraine: The War (Ukraine, 2023). His staunchly independent, outsider stance means, however, that he has faced many of the same challenges as the younger filmmakers.

August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg: How did you come to filmmaking?

Artushevska: I met my mentor, Bohdan Zholdak, who is now deceased, and I knew I wanted to study with him. He was a scriptwriter, so I applied to the scriptwriting course at Karpenko-Karyi and then moved to directing.

Danylenko: I studied thermal engineering at university because I come from a background where I was expected to have a very ‘manly’ profession. At the same time, I was always sketching. I consumed a lot of animation and tried to understand how it was made. I was very fortunate to live in a culture where piracy is the norm because it allowed me to have access to animation software at a time when I would not have been able to afford it and, using that, I taught myself. People need to have accessible versions so they can learn and then give back to others later in their careers.

Kastornykh: I worked as an administrator in a writers’ room and then as a TV producer, and I observed my colleagues. I learned by watching them work. After that I wrote two, three scripts. Then I sold some scripts, and I was amazed that I could sell them for money. So I bought and read a few books about scriptwriting. And then I went to every masterclass I came across on filmmaking. Now I teach a scriptwriting class and my students range in age from 18 to 60. Many have also worked on TV. Others have no relevant experience whatsoever. Yet we all learn from each other.

Parfenov: For many years, I helmed an organisation that advocated for animal rights, organised demonstrations and actions, and published a journal. In 1997, I saw a powerful American documentary, To Love or Kill: Man vs. Animal (Antony Thomas, USA, 1996), and I realised I could reach a lot more people through film than through my journal. I also came to see that I couldn’t just make films in defence of animal rights, that the way in which we treat animals is closely intertwined with the way we treat people and the environment more broadly. The question that animated me for a long time was: “how can people kill?” Now it is: “why do human beings fight? How do things come to war?” That’s what I am exploring in all my films.

Vynarchyk: I come from a very creative family – my father is an artist, my mother is a musician, so we were immersed in the arts. At 22, I started writing actively, and I’ve published three books of poetry. I’ve also painted since I was little. David Lynch once said that that watching the leaves flutter on a tree outside his window, he realized he wanted to be a film director and not a painter. It was much the same for me: one day, I was watching an older uncle smoking a cigarette. He had long, beautiful fingers and the light was casting striking shadows on them. I wanted to capture this gesture of his, the way the smoke was coming out through his fingers. It’s an everyday gesture, but it tells you a lot about this person. And I understood that, in a painting, I wouldn’t be able to do it, only by capturing it on film. Film also brought my different skill sets together – my interest in composition and proportion on the one hand, and my interest in narrative and character-building on the other. This is also why I like being an independent filmmaker, because I get to do so much of it myself, and I get to surround myself with a team of enthusiastic people.

August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg: What has your experience with getting your work seen – festivals and distribution – been like?

Artushevska: I submitted Valera to as many festivals as I could. Because of the war, it has now also been screened as part of several fundraisers for Ukraine abroad. It’s been wonderful to feel that I can help my country with my art. Tomorrow, it will be screened at La Fémis in Paris together with other films by my classmates from Karpenko-Karyi and the proceeds will be donated to DocuDays UA. Iryna Tsilyk’s film, Tayra (2017, Ukraine) is also on the program, and it’s a huge honor for me to have my film screened alongside hers.

Danylenko: Festivals were tremendously important to my wife and I when we were still in Ukraine. This was before Ukrainians were allowed to come and go freely in the Schengen zone, and every festival acceptance was an opportunity to see a bit more of the world. Occasionally, it could be quite painful: you would get into a festival, they would even offer to pay for your travel expenses, but by the time you heard back from them, you didn’t have enough time to get the visa. Other times, though, we were lucky enough to travel and meet new people. These festival acceptances also ended up being very important when we were trying to get American visas in order to be able to stay in the U.S. These days, though, I rarely make work aimed at festivals and focus instead on commercial projects. That’s why I recently made my own website. I’m not allowed to upload these projects to YouTube so I needed my own aggregator site. It’s also been nice to have festivals now reaching out to me, asking me to submit particular projects.

Kastornykh: This was my first experience with a short film. I understood what to do with feature films, how to market and promote them. With short films, it’s much more difficult. No one is working in Ukraine with short films. So I just put it on Filmfreeway and submitted it to festivals. I also didn’t have a budget, so I only sent it to festivals with no fee or a small fee. Now I understand that with every budget, I need to set aside a portion of the money for the festival submission fees. The fees are necessary because no one should work for free. But there should be gradations for students, established directors, etc.

Vynarchyk: I’ve spent more money submitting the film to festivals than making it. I was also surprised by the number of online festivals out there! We got some rejections, and that was hard. But I understand that the world doesn’t revolve around me, that I am a grain of sand on this Earth. And then I thought, this might actually make me freer. I can keep making films the way I want to make them. Thankfully, though, we also got some acceptances. The first one was from the Gandhara festival in Pakistan and that really lifted my spirits. The film has a great deal of Christian symbolism and references to the Western canon. I didn’t think that it would translate culturally and felt really good that it did. It was then accepted to several other festivals in India and East Asia.

Parfenov: For many years, I ran a festival called Steps (Stupieni), which showcased films advocating for animal rights, human rights, and environmental protections. We initially held the festival in Kyiv but, when it became too expensive, moved to my home city of Kharkiv. Through that, I was able to meet many wonderful filmmakers and show their work. I have been able to show my own films at festivals abroad but, sadly, they did not get the audience I wished they would at home. I started writing the script for Odnazhdy v Ukraine: Revolutsiya several months before the Maidan events. I felt strongly that Yanukovych was not the person who should be running the country and that a revolution was brewing. When the Maidan started, I realised we had to move very quickly. I recruited actors, a small crew, and within days we were in Kyiv, filming against the background of the events as they were unfolding. The film tells the story of a woman who was raped by the police in Crimea, her friend was killed, and she goes to Kyiv to seek justice. So even then I felt that Crimea was a crucial territory. I was able to show the film in some theatres in Lviv, Kharkiv, and Odessa, but it was not widely seen. Why? Firstly, I think, because, coming from Kharkiv, I shot the film in Russian. And, secondly, because the character I play in it myself is a Tolstoyan who believes people should not bear arms. The film advanced an anti-violence message that went against what a lot of our authorities – many of whom are hunters – believe.

August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg: What are some of your favourite Ukrainian films?

Artushevska: There are many Ukrainian films that I love, especially documentaries. The one that marked me the most is a documentary film called Mykhailo i Danyil / Michail and Daniel (2017, Ukraine and USA) by Andrei Zagdansky, about a father who cares for his grown son with cerebral palsy. Stop-Zemlia (2021, Ukraine) by Kateryna Gornostai also really impressed me. It won an award at the Berlinale. I also love the Ukrainian classics: Dovzhenko, Ilyenko… especially Babylon XX (1979, USSR) by Ivan Mikolaychuk. And from our neighbouring country, Poland, one of my favourite films of all time is Andrzej Wajda’s Niewinny czarodzieje / Innocent Sorcerers (1960, Poland).

Danylenko: I was raised primarily on Soviet animation, and I have some kind of trauma related to it. I like Nu, Pogodi! and that’s about it. I saw so much stop-motion animation as a child, and I found it very uncanny. I’ve met a lot of people who didn’t like stop-motion animation growing up, but came to like it as they got older. The ‘geniuses’ of Soviet animation could also be very harsh and negative with up-and-coming filmmakers. If you have technical problems in your film, you can fix them, but if you lose your confidence and your inspiration, you’re done for. My sense is that Western animators are more open and accessible. Finally, Soviet animators reinforced the impression that animation is only for kids. That said, Soviet filmmakers were very creative with the limited tools at their disposal! It’s exciting to see Ukrainian animators now, though, moving in new directions.

Kastornykh: The most popular genre for a while now has been comedy. Probably because we have been at war since 2014, and we needed the relief. My favourite recent film, though, is an action film, Bezslavni Kripaky / The Inglorious Serfs (2020, Ukraine) by my friend Roman Perfilyev. We were supposed to shoot a horror film together in English in the spring called The Dictator’s Game where the maniac is Putin.

Vynarchyk: Ukraine has a great tradition of romantic cinema. My sensibility has been greatly informed by Aleksandr Dovzhenko, Sergei Parajanov, Yuri Ilyenko, and Leonid Osyka. Their films are experiencing a second life now.

August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg: Where do you go to see new Ukrainian works?

Artushevska: Cinemas and festivals. And through friends, of course. My favourite cinema, Cinema Kyiv, closed because of the war and I can’t wait for it to reopen when this is all over. DocuDays UA is a really important festival for Ukrainian documentary films. The Odessa and Molodist film festivals are also tremendously important. Finally, readers should know that we have our own Ukrainian equivalent of the Oscars, called the “Golden Dzyga” Awards.

Danylenko: Linoleum Festival was a great place to meet other animators in Ukraine, especially young people who were also starting out. Now they do series abroad to showcase Ukrainian animators’ work. It was very inspiring going there and seeing so many new names each year, as well as seeing animation become more gender equal. You see both men and women animating in Ukraine today.

Kastornykh: I am a member of the Ukrainian Film Academy, and our industry now is not so big. We all know each other, we know all the projects being shot, even if it’s a co-production being made outside the country. So I learn about what other directors are doing mostly by word of mouth. We also have our own Ukrainian film database DzygaMDB. It was Anna Machukh’s idea. She is the managing director of the Odessa Film Festival and executive director of the Ukrainian Film Academy, and has been doing a lot of good for the Ukrainian film industry.

Vynarchyk: The Molodist film festival in Kyiv and the Odessa Film Festival have become quite important, I think. We sent our film to Molodist but never got a response because the invasion started. In Lviv, there is also an international short film festival called Wiz-Art which is great. Also, the Truskavets International Film Festival “Korona Karpat”. To be honest, though, I mostly learn about peers’ work through social media, friends, and colleagues. But I did go to see Oleg Sentsov’s Nosorih / Rhino (2021, Ukraine, Poland, Germany) in the theatre!

August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg: How has the war impacted you and your work?

Artushevska: My family chose to stay in Kyiv, it was a very conscious choice for us, and I volunteered to assist with territorial defence with my mother and sister. Every day we patrol our neighbourhood, and we’ve actually identified some foreign people sent in by Russia to create diversions and found three hidden bombs. Just before the war, I started work on a new film. It was a new experience for me because it was based not on my own but a friend’s script. We had one shooting day on February 20, 2022, and then the war really interrupted the process. But now, we hope to continue working on the film. The lead actor and I are both in Kyiv. The director of photography and the rest of the crew evacuated, but they plan to return. In general, though, I would say the first three weeks, I couldn’t think, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t do anything. Now, I try to be strong and to keep my spirits up.

Danylenko: When I moved to Seattle a year ago, I was in a place where I didn’t want to make animation anymore. I wanted to take a gap year. To spend more time outdoors, hiking, biking… to reflect and see where I want to go next. With the invasion in February, though, I started doing a lot of volunteer work, to help spread news and information. I became part of a Ukrainian team that would create ‘tasks’ for people on the ground, saying so-and-so needs help with editing or so-and-so needs subtitles for their video, and we would then take on those tasks. I did quite a bit of editing, translation, and illustration for various Telegram channels.

My friends and I also worked on several other types of projects. First, we started helping with first aid instructions for the MedAid phone app, for the Diya application, which everyone in Ukraine uses, and for some YouTube channels that were teaching people about emergency medicine. Second, we worked with child psychologists to create illustrations for an app to help children get through air raids, when they have to go down to the subway or to basements. It’s based on a similar project in Israel and features games and mindfulness exercises to help them calm down. Finally, we started working with some architects on illustrations to help restore buildings that have been destroyed. The idea there is that you don’t need to fill in the bullet holes. They should be preserved as part of history, and the buildings themselves can be creatively reimagined. Generally, I would say, I started doing a lot more illustration to transform all this anger that I have inside me into something creative. Because you see the news and you need to react fast, but animation takes a long time. Illustration is much faster.

Parfenov: I’ve been living for many years now in a village just outside Kharkiv called Dergachi. In the first month of the war, the building which housed my film studio, the sports complex where I worked as a Judo trainer, and the bar where I would have a beer with friends were all destroyed. The building next to my child’s preschool was destroyed. The actor who played the protagonist in my short film, Ukraina v ogne, was an elderly man and his heart gave out during the bombing. He died. It’s all unspeakably horrible. I managed to complete Odnazhdy v Ukraine: Voina, however, and now I am working on a new project. I have, fortunately, been able to evacuate with my family to Europe. I plan to shoot a court scene in Switzerland now and the rest of the film in Ukraine as soon as possible.

Vynarchyk: The first few months, it was impossible to work. I felt a physical block. It was hard to do anything. But we understood that the Russian machine won’t wait for us. My brother enlisted in the army. I’m a civilian, I don’t have military training, so I understood that I would be more helpful on the informational front, posting online and making creative work that draws attention to what is happening in our country. Recently, I’ve also started working on a short film, a musical clip really, about a soldier who returns home to see his beloved wife and then returns to the front.

I also spent the first few months at the Lviv train station helping refugees with my mother. It was a profoundly affecting experience. You realise that there is very little you can say to comfort these people, but you can listen. It was mostly women and children, and they all had very different stories. Many of them were shockingly cinematic: a person walks out of his building to go get some groceries, comes back, and the building isn’t there anymore. Same with a family that was hiding in a basement… Their lives are destroyed in a minute. You’re taking in these stories first on an emotional level and then on an intellectual level. I had a very strong reaction at first, but I realised I couldn’t react emotionally because my job was to help them, so I had to stay strong and calm. What you get, though, is the sense of a mosaic of stories like this. I also tried, with their permission, to take a camera and film this process. But I didn’t like the distance the camera imposed on me. I wanted to be a participant and not an observer.

Kastornykh: I was the screenwriter on two feature films which have already been distributed: Selfipati / Selfieparty (Liubomyr Levytskyi, 2016, Ukraine) and Zirky Za Obninom / Stars Exchange (Oleksii Daruha, 2021, Ukraine). My most recent project, Yak Tam Katia?, has just won two awards at the Locarno film festival. My first feature film as a director, however, was supposed to appear on screens this year, but it got pushed back. Or I should say ‘pushed forward’! The other interesting thing that happened is that I had Putin in mind when I started to write the script for my thriller, Temni Khvily Stiksu, about a serial murderer, but only certain people would get it. Now the film reads much more clearly as a political allegory. I was also the writer on a feature film, Myrnyi-21 / Mirny-21 (Akhtem Seitablaev, 2022, Ukraine), about what happened in Luhansk in 2014, which is at the film market in Cannes this year.

August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg: Serhii, how did you make the decision to join the Army and fight directly rather than through your creative work?

Kastornykh: My initial training was in physical education. I came to film later in life, after working in TV for ten years. But I never had any formal military training beyond firing a few shots from an AK-47 in high school. When the war broke out, I began volunteering like so many other people... I helped with evacuations and I participated in the so-called “creative army”: all the creative professionals who started using their skills to get information out about what was happening in Ukraine. But that wasn’t enough for me. I felt I needed to fight directly, so I evacuated my wife and daughter, and I enlisted.

Many fighters will tell you that it’s not for everyone. Not everyone needs to take a gun into their hands to fight. And now that I’m a fighter, I agree with them. Many people can be more useful with words or other tools. I chose my way, but everyone needs to do what they can do the best.

August Schaller and Masha Shpolberg: What role can film and filmmakers play in this war?

Artushevska: Film is important for the mental health of all of us living through this. It can give us hope and inspire us. It can give us the desire to live. Just before the war started, we all felt that Ukrainian cinema was burgeoning, that it was really on the threshold of becoming a major national cinema. There was finally government funding for projects. I really hope we will be able to continue building on all of this after the war. It’s also been three months now and people abroad are starting to get used to it. Yet every day so many people are dying. We need to use all the tools at our disposal to remind people that there is a war going on and to end it as soon as possible.

Danylenko: I made my animated short, Istoriya Ukraina za 5 Khvilyn / The History of Ukraine in 5 Minutes (2019, Ukraine), before the war started. The band I worked with on it and I are now planning to make follow-up videos focusing on recent Ukrainian history. Animation and music can be powerful tools for reviving our history and giving young people a better sense of where they come from and what we are all fighting for.

Kastornykh: We don’t have to speak about the war as a war. We need to speak about Ukrainians. This is the time for creating heroes. I really like the billboards I saw on social media from the US, UK, and Canada that read “Be Brave like Ukraine”. It really moved me to realise that the whole world is watching us. In our films, we have to show real Ukrainians and how they are in everyday life. We are a really brave people. When we talk about contemporary film and TV these days, we tend not to talk not about the plot or the story, but about the characters. People want interesting, complex characters. So when we think about how to make war films, we need to find not the stories, but the people.

Parfenov: Tolstoy wrote a short story called Nabeg / The Raid (1853) when he was quite young, not yet thirty. In it, he asks: “What compels a man to pick up a rifle and kill another man? What makes him do it?” He wrote this story more than 150 years ago, but it’s just as relevant now. Cinema can get people to ask this question again. This is also why I don’t shy away from portraying violence in my films. I think it’s important to show people the extent of human cruelty, even to shock them so that they start to reflect. I don’t want people to like my films; I want people to remember them. I also think that cinema can provide an important alternative to propaganda.

Vynarchyk: Ukrainians have really been able to come together since the war has started. People understood that they are Ukrainians and have begun to be proud of it. Cinema can help us cultivate a sense of our culture, of our roots. It is particularly powerful as a tool that can build up peoples and nations. Ukrainian history is so very rich. There are real superheroes in it, historical characters who can give King Arthur and Richard the Lionhearted a run for their money. And there are universal themes: love, honesty, and courage.

August Schaller
GutterBliss Film Festival

Masha Shpolberg
Bard College


August Schaller is the founder of the GutterBliss Film Festival and the accompanying Gutterspiel podcast. He holds a B.A. in Film Studies from the University of North Carolina Wilmington and works in the local film industry.

Masha Shpolberg is originally from Odesa, Ukraine. She was Assistant Professor of Film Studies at the University of North Carolina Wilmington from 2020 until 2022. She is now Assistant Professor of Film and Electronic Arts at Bard College.


Artushevska, Olga. 2022. Valera / Valera. Olga Artushevska Productions.

Danylenko, Sashko. 2019. Istoriya Ukrainy za 5 Khvilyn / The History of Ukraine in 5 Minutes. Sashko Danylenko Productions.

Daruha, Oleksii. 2021. Zirky Za Obninom / Stars Exchange. Kinorob, Secret Service Entertainment Agency, FILM.UA Group.

Gornostai, Kateryna. 2021. Stop-Zemlia. ESSE Production House.

Kastornykh, Serhii. 2020. Temni Khvily Stiksu / The Dark Waves of the Styx. FOP Kastornih SS.

Kastronykh, Serhii. 2022. Yak Tam Katya / How is Katia? Evos Film.

Levytskyi, Liubomyr. 2016. SelfiPati / SelfieParty. Vitamin Film Studio and Solar Media Entertainment.

Parfenov, Igor. 2014. Odnazhdy v Ukraine: Revolutsiya / Once Upon a Time in Ukraine: The Revolution. Cinema Earthlings.

Parfenov, Igor. 2016. Odnazhdy v Ukraine: Voina/ Once Upon a Time in Ukraine: The War. Cinema Earthlings.

Parfenov, Igor. 2022. Ukraina v Ogne / Ukraine in Fire. Cinema Earthlings.

Perfilyev, Roman. 2020. Bezslavni Kripaky / The Inglorious Serfs. Kristi Films and Star Media.

Seitablaev, Akhtem. 2022. Myrnyi-21 / Mirny-21. Istmen Films.

Sentsov, Oleg. 2021. Nosorih / Rhino. Cry Cinema, Apple Film Production, and Fiction.

Thomas, Antony. 1996. To Love or Kill: Man vs. Animal. HBO.

Tsilyk, Iryna. 2017. Tayra / Tayra. Iryna Tsylik Productions.

Vynarchyk, Ivan. 2021. Mezha / Verge. Ivan Vynarchyk Productions.

Wajda, Andrzej. 1960. Niewinny czarodzieje / Innocent Sorcerers. Wytwornia Filmow Fabularnych.

Zagdansky, Andrei. 2017. Mykhailo i Danyil / Michail and Daniel. AZ Films LLC and MaGiKa Films.

Suggested Citation

Schaller, August and Masha Shpolberg. 2022. “Film in the Time of War: The New Generation of Ukrainian Filmmakers”. Apparatus. Film, Media and Digital Cultures in Central and Eastern Europe 15. DOI:


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