Klondike: Donbas 2014

The so-called “Russian Separatists” who terrorized Donbass Ukrainians really weren’t separatists. They wanted to become a Russian vassal territory. In 2014, Russian-backed “separatists” used Russian-supplied arms to shootdown Malaysian Airlines flight MH17 from territory completely controlled by Russia. Yet, Putin’s regime never faced any serious consequences. What kind of behavior did that incentivize? We’re seeing it now. Donbas was seeing then, even including a local Russian sympathizer, who suffers like Job from his allies and the wrath of his Ukrainian-loyalist wife in director-screenwriter-editor Maryna Er Gorbach’s Klondike, which has a special screening tonight at Anthology Film Archives.

Russia and its “separatists” tried to deny responsibility for MH17, but they had already claimed responsibility, thinking it was a Ukrainian troop transport. Tolik ought to be able to empathize with the grieving families, because the itchy-trigger-fingered Russian mercenaries also blew off the front wall of his house. His wife Irka is less understanding. Not only is she Ukrainian, but she is also 7-months-pregnant—and now literally living in rubble. Tolik wants to take her somewhere safer, but his neighbor, Sanya, a local fixer for the Russian mercs, “borrowed” his car.

Tolik’s marriage might be strained, but his relationship with his Ukrainian-loyalist brother-in-law Yaryk practically constitutes a cold war. Both are pigheaded and passive-aggressive in ways that   do Irka no favors. Yet, it is hard for outsiders to see why her husband shifted his loyalties to the rogue separatists. They regularly hold him at gun-point, stole his car, bombed his house, and then demand he kill his cow to feed them. To paraphrase The Producers, where did the separatists “go right?”

Indeed, that absurdity is at the heart of Klondike. The title itself might baffle initially, but it is a veiled reference to the scavenging of luggage—a gold rush—that commences after Flight MH17 crashes near Tolik’s farmhouse. There is much of Samuel Beckett and a lot of The Honeymooners in the three main characters, but it will be lost on many people, because the wartime circumstances are so grim.

Er Gorbach’s approach is also art-house all the way, which will further serve to keep some viewers at arm’s length. Yet, there is often a chilling point to her quiet, long-takes, which often reveal ominous movement on the far horizon. Make no mistake, her shots are composed, in close artistic collaboration with cinematographer Svytoslav Bulakovskiy. The fearful truth is that whatever you see in the distant background will inevitably arrive in the foreground—almost surely portending bad things.

Serhiy Shadrin broods with burning intensity and gripes like a hen-pecked separatist Ralph Kramden. Yet, his performance is profoundly sad, because he constantly endures reminders of how little control he has over any aspect of his life. His passivity is truly tragic. For most of the film, Oksana Cherkashyna is rather reserved as Irka, but when she unleashes her fury, it is worthy of Medea.

Some audiences will not fully embrace Klondike stylistically, but they will still “get it.” Without question, Er Gorbach captures the chaos, paranoia, and violence unleashed on the Donbas by Putin’s paramilitary thugs. Arguably, it is unusually ambitious on an artistic level for a film that also serves as an expose. Very highly recommended, Klondike screens tonight (9/10) at Anthology, with the director in attendance (and it streams on Prime).