SBIFF ’18: A Sniper’s War

If you want to see what ethnic cleansing looks like after the passage of time, visit the Srpska administrative district of the sovereign nation of Bosnia and Herzegovina. At this point, most of the Serb residents refuse to acknowledge their legal central government or the war crimes committed against Bosnian Muslims that soaked the ground in blood. Today, hundreds of Serbian mercenaries are trying to help Russia achieve similar results in Ukraine’s Donetsk Oblast. Dejan “Deki” Beric is one of them. As a sniper, he has killed many Ukrainians for the sake of Russian imperialism, but he considers himself the freedom fighter. His extremist zeal never wavers in Olya Schechter’s chilling A Sniper’s War (trailer here), which screens during the 2018 Santa Barbara International Film Festival.

Deki has a long history of fighting with war criminals, but everything that happens is the fault of America or the Ukrainians. Technically, he has been disowned by his own nation, who will imprison him if he ever returns. Watching Deki go about his business coldly and calmly is a little like watching a serial killer movie, but the real touchstone is Eric Hoffer’s The True Believer. Deki truly believes in the warped world views of Putin and Milosevic. Anything to the contrary are the lies of American. When Schechter asks if he realizes the rest of the world considers him a fascist, he looks like she called him a Martian.

Following the Barbet Schroeder playbook, Schechter maintains a policy of strict neutrality, which allows Deki to reveal his true self. What emerges is the portrait of a killer, who refuses to take responsibility for any of his actions. He is a monster, with a well-defined list of grievances and a rapidly escalating body-count. Wisely, Schechter mostly avoids showing Deki’s kills, but they are numerous—and they very definitely define who he is.

Ironically, the Deki probably would take a shot at one of its editors, if he had the opportunity and knew Dmitriy Khavin’s short documentaries on pre- and post-Maidan Ukrainian life, particularly the eye-opening Quiet in Odessa. However, as a frequent editor for Vice reports, Khavin is quite experienced cutting together extreme footage. He and Dmitry Rozin never stack the deck against Deki, so he should have nothing to complain about, but Schechter’s highly cinematic fly-over shots make the extent of the damage wrought by his war starkly evident.

Sniper’s War is a disturbing film, but it was meant to be so. Schechter largely adopts a fly-on-the-wall observational perspective, but what we witness is pretty ugly and hate-filled. Highly recommended as an expose on extremism (but not as a primer on the Ukrainian or Bosnian Wars), A Sniper’s War screens today and tomorrow (2/7 & 2/8) during this year’s SBIFF and on February 23^rd at the Big Sky Documentary Film Festival.

Quiet in Odessa: To Be Jewish and Ukrainian, Post-Maidan

It has been frustrating to hear western media unquestioningly parrot the Putin propaganda line on Ukraine. Of course, that is much easier to do than actually reporting on-scene and talking to everyday Ukrainians up-close-and-personal. Fortunately, Dmitriy Khavin does things the hard way. As part of his continuing efforts to document Ukrainian cultural life and the Jewish Ukrainian experience, Khavin interviewed a diverse cross-section of Odessa’s Jewish community. Their first-hand accounts and unfiltered responses make Khavin’s Quiet in Odessa (trailer here) absolutely must-see viewing when it screens this Sunday at the JCC in Manhattan.

For historically painful reasons, Jews around the world have traditionally been leery of nationalism. However, the recent crisis has brought out new found feelings of patriotism in Khavin’s interview subjects, who now more readily self-identify as Ukrainians and Odessans, as well as Jews. In one case, a young Jewish Odessan has indefinitely postponed making Aliyah out of solidarity with her fellow Ukrainians.

Khavin also talks to older Jewish Odessans who, much to their own surprise, volunteered for the civilian Self-Defense Brigade. Despite their age, they are still not to be trifled with. They also represent the country’s inclusiveness, serving shoulder to shoulder with Catholic and Orthodox comrades, as well as at least one Georgian. (In fact, Ukrainian-Georgian diplomatic bonds have grown stronger at all levels, due to their unfortunate shared experiences with Putinist Russia.)

Probably the greatest revelation though, will be the surprising ties many Jewish Ukrainian have forged with Right Sector, Putin and the American media’s favorite bogeyman. In a particularly telling episode, Odessa’s senior rabbi relates how the leader of Right Sector came to him to apologize for a rash of anti-Semitic graffiti, disavowing any involvement, but pledging his group’s support painting over the provocations the following weekend. It is exactly the sort of story that should be reported, but isn’t.

There is also a good deal of humor in Quiet, much of it coming from the old timers at the city’s venerable bathhouse, who joke about their Jewishness in terms that would raise the eyebrows of old school borsch belt comics. Just as importantly, Khavin also conveys a vivid sense of Odessa’s old world charm and sophistication. It seems like a very livable city to call home—and a place worth fighting for.

You really have to respect Khavin’s go-and-report approach to filmmaking. He puts a very personal face on people the news media prefers to cover with broad stereotypical strokes. Yet, his micro focus yields macro insights. Frankly, this is a film that needs to reach a mass audience rather urgently. It is timely and informative, but also consistently engaging, supported by a subtle but elegant soundtrack, featuring Uri Cane and vocalist Sofiya Leavsie. Very highly recommended, Quiet in Odessa screens this Sunday (11/2) at the JCC in Manhattan. It also screens at Brooklyn’s Central Library on November 20^th as part of a double bill with Khavin’s eye-opening The Territory.

The Territory: Ukrainians in the West Bank

Everyone wants to sell them out and nobody wants you to see them up close and personal.  They are the Israeli settlers living in both official and unofficial settlements within the West Bank.  A great number of them also happen to be Ukrainian and Russian immigrants.  Filmmaker Dmitriy Khavin continues to document the Ukrainian Diaspora, giving viewers a rare unfiltered look at the Israeli settlement experience in The Territory (trailer here), which premieres this coming Tuesday at the JCC in Manhattan as part of the Generation R film program.

The settlements are not what you might expect.  Where once there were dormitories and trailers there are now pleasant looking middle class homes.  Granted, they are often found in gated communities, not uncommonly with armed guards out front.  The land around them looks rather harsh and arid—hardly terrain worth fighting for.  However, the fortifications are clearly there for a reason.

These first and second generation Soviet immigrants are products of the Refusenik movement.  Their families’ experiences under Communism directly shaped their Zionist convictions.  Still, they might not exactly be what viewers expect either.  Some are simply taking advantage of the inexpensive housing.  Yes, Khavin also talks to some who express less than edifying opinions on their hostile Arab neighbors.  Yet, many are clearly inclined to live in peace and harmony with all residents of the territory.  Nonetheless, they consciously chose the risks involved in forming a buffer to protect the rest of Israel.

Throughout The Territory, Khavin challenges preconceptions across the political spectrum, beginning with film’s calm, peaceful tone.  There are no bombs exploding here.  His interview subjects go about their daily business like people anywhere, adopting a God-is-my-copilot attitude.  Occasionally, there are ugly reminders of the terrorism for which the territory is infamous for.  One of Khavin’s guides takes viewers to the shrine dedicated to a tiny infant murdered by a sniper.  Residents assume the young innocent was deliberately targeted by the Palestinian murderer and it is hard to argue with them, given the results.

The West Bank settlements will always be a thorny issue to untangle.  However, the media would like people to blindly assume they are all lunatic Kahane clones, which simply is not the case.  Indeed, many are part of the epic Russian and Ukrainian stories starting tragically in the early Twentieth Century.  A real example of documentary filmmaking journalism, the forty-one minute The Territory ought to be broadcast on PBS, perhaps as part of a series with Khavin’s other films (like Artists of Odessa), but do not hold your breath.  A balanced and intriguing look at one of the world’s most misunderstood tracts of land, The Territory is recommended for all inquisitive viewers when it screens Tuesday (1/15) at the JCC in Manhattan.

Post-Soviet Ukrainian Culture: Artists of Odessa

Klara Budilovskaya was the Kilroy of immediate post-Communist Ukraine. Her name appeared on street corners everywhere, along with lists of the services she supposedly rendered—but only to foreigners. It was a peculiarly insecure way to express newfound freedoms. Such cultural history remains fresh in the consciousness of many Ukrainian painters, poets, and musicians who make up the city’s artist colony. Dmitryi Khavin takes viewers on a tour of their neighborhood in his documentary Artists of Odessa (clip here), which has its American premiere this Sunday at the JCC in Manhattan.

Khavin introduces us to the Ukrainian equivalent of the Village, the historic Moldavanka district, traditionally the home of the city’s working class. Now largely de-industrialized, it is exactly the type of neighborhood that attracts the artistic and the funky. Living communally in a building that reportedly once hosted Chekhov, an older artist analyzes the layers of graffiti art on his walls like the rings of a tree. He might have to move soon, which could either be good or bad. Indeed, ambiguity seems to be a way of life for Odessa’s artists.

Many artists still seem to be processing the fall of Communism and the aftermath of the Orange Revolution. According to a colleague, artist Leonid Voitsekhov saw his share of prison cells during the Brezhnevian 1980’s for the private exhibitions he held in his flat of his sexually themed paintings. Yet, we also see hipster second-hand store owners haggling with customers over Communist-era collectibles.

While it is always perilous to make sweeping generalizations about styles and periods of art, there does seem to be a pronounced tendency among the poets towards absurdist humor. There is also a significant current of irony running through the work of Odessa’s painters, but one can also see the influence of classic Russian icons amongst the work Khavin documents. Unfortunately, the musicians heard in performance do not leave much of an impression, generally coming out of singer-songwriter or grunge-rock bags (no jazz, alas).

Though a relatively short doc at fifty-five minutes, Artists provides quite a few telling moments and liberal portions of local color. Produced with the support of CEC Artslink, it will definitely give those fascinated by the former Soviet sphere of influence a good quick fix. It screens this Sunday (1/9) at the Upper Westside JCC, followed by a special Q&A session with Khavin.