The
opening lyrics of the Ukrainian National Anthem make a fitting commencement for
any film on the Euromaidan demonstrations and the subsequent Russian aggression:
“Ukraine’s glory has not yet perished, nor has her freedom. Upon us fellow
patriots, fate shall smile once more.” Let’s be frank, most of the media now considers
Ukraine’s freedom a lost cause and the lame duck administration no longer has
anything to say on the issue. Yet, when the Ukrainians unite in common purpose,
they are a resilient force. Sergei Loznitsa captures his countrymen’s
collective spirit in the direct cinema documentary Maidan (trailer
here), which
opens this Friday in New York.
Kiev’s
central city square is currently known as Maidan Nezalezhnosti, or Independence
Square. It was previously known as Soviet Square, Kalinin Square (in honor of
Stalin loyalist Mikhail Kalinin), and the Square of the October Revolution—and it
might be so renamed again if deposed President Viktor Yanukovych and his Russian
masters have their way. In late 2013, outraged Ukrainians took to the square,
protesting Yanukovych’s decision to reject an association agreement with the
EU, in accordance with Moscow’s wishes. Protests did indeed erupt in Maidan,
the scene of many Orange Revolution demonstrations following Yanukovych’s
suspect election in 2004, but it was far from the “pogrom” Putin suggested.
Loznitsa has the footage to prove it.
In
a way, it is too bad the Euromaidan movement advocates freedom and closer ties
with the west, because Loznitsa’s documentary could have been the greatest
socialist film ever made. Arguably, no other film so powerfully conveys the
spirit of collective action and a sense of individuals dedicating themselves to
a larger cause. There are many long takes and wide angle crowd shots, but
Loznitsa and his fellow cameraman Serhiy Stefan Stetsenko capture the tenor of the
time quite viscerally.
Loznitsa
never focuses on representative POV figures, maintaining a macro perspective
throughout. Nevertheless, we can easily observe the trends and magnitude of the
situation from his vantage points. At first, there is very much a sense that
things will change, much as it did in 2004. We see the volunteers making
sandwiches and distributing tea to regular Sunday night demonstrators. A gullible
media largely accepted Putin’s smears at face value, but it is hard to imagine
a neo-fascist movement would dispatch four volunteers to make sure nobody
slipped on a spot of spilled water in the lobby.
Tragically,
Yanukovych would unleash the Interior Ministry’s Berkut forces in January. At
this point the audience can clearly see how unscripted Loznitsa’s film truly
was, as either the director or his co-cinematographer is caught in a tear gas
attack. They maintain the same long fixed approach, but the pleas for medical
personnel to come to the stage area to treat the collected wounded speaks
volumes about the old regime. Not to be spoilery (unless you work at a major
network, you should already know this ends rather badly), but Loznitsa
concludes the film with a funeral for two fallen activists, which is absolutely
emotionally devastating, even without a personal entry-point character to
concentrate on.
Still,
the individual stories of Maidan supporters desperately need to be heard, which
is why Dmitriy Khavin’s Quiet in Odessa is
such a timely and valuable film. Since there is almost no supplemental context
in Loznitsa’s Maidan it is best seen
in conjunction with a film like Khavin’s. However, it has the virtue of presenting
events as they happened and allowing the audience to draw their own
conclusions. Highly recommended for anyone seeking an immersive understanding
of Ukraine’s Euromaidan movement, Loznitsa’s Maidan opens this Friday (12/12) in New York, at the Elinor Bunin Munroe Film Center.
