“BLACK SUNFLOWERS”

There is something deeply haunting and deeply human about experiencing normalcy during a time of war. It’s part of our unique capacity as a species to be aware of our mortality but still wake up day after day, pushing aside the darkness in favor of either ignoring impending doom or simply embracing the moment while it’s here to be celebrated.

This interplay between life and death is explored in all its kinetic form by James Marcus Haney’s “Black Sunflowers.” The film follows a number of Ukrainian youths as they cling to the vagaries of youth as their country continues to be ravaged by war.

We meet soldiers on the front line, adrenalized from moments of action, smiling sardonically as a bomb dropped mere meters away comes so close to taking out both them and Haney’s crew. We see drifters weaving their vehicles and embracing a global car culture with its feats of automotive athleticism. One is a veteran missing a leg, the other a young man aware the army is not for him and contemplating leaving his country before a draft notice arrives.

War is a time of extremes, where life is lived more quickly. One woman reflects on the desire to take more time to grow up before needing to face reality, envious of those elsewhere who can take their time at school, enabled to be uncertain of one’s future for longer. Others are anxious to embrace the now, wishing already to be considered a veteran and wanting to marry their sweetheart while in the throes of this conflict. The strong sense of not wanting to waste a moment of precious life is palpable, and how each is confronting this fact is at the heart of the film.

This lends itself to several moments of sheer abandon, as throbbing rave music and dancing without a care serve as the perfect antidote to fear and restraint. Haney’s background is in music films and projects, and his ability to capture the crowds writhing in orgiastic fashion to the pounding beat provides much of the film’s sensuous visual splendour. This contrasts with the bodycam footage from combat and the prosaic, matter-of-fact footage of train stations, bombed-out apartment buildings, and fields strewn with the remains of fallen enemy soldiers. The simultaneous escape of city life and the realities of a country at war are not simply set as contrasts but emphasize the near schizophrenic divide of a generation growing up with a mix of beauty and death, of hope and fear, of the golden sheen of a sunflower ruined by a nearby explosion.

Politics does emerge as a kind of background noise: various world events land with as dull a thud as the incoming mortars. We see the re-election of Trump viewed through the eyes that recognized a shift in priority and understand the consequences of the abandonment of USAID on those recipients of American generosity due to the vagaries of a shifting agenda. The famous clip of a confrontation between Trump, Vance, and Zelenskyy in the Oval Office is viewed not with outward consternation, but merely as another data point of disappointment. There is a cold recognition from those at war that even so-called allies cannot be fully relied upon, and that it is up to those on the ground to heed the calls for help.

Haney’s film is deeply situated within this specific conflict, yet its themes of a generation being broken by existential conflict can easily be seen in more universal ways. Thanks to deeply probing interviews, striking visuals, and a propulsive sense of youthful vigor, the film illustrates better than most the costs of war, the life-long effect it has on the individuals living through it, and the way the most seemingly benign moments become epic when one is desperately clinging to a sense of normalcy.

“Black Sunflowers” focuses on the dark beauty of this situation, providing a unique and powerful perspective on this seemingly unending conflict. A follow-up film a decade later could continue this story further, as it feels essential to see how these individuals grow into adulthood and are further shaped by experiences to come. As it stands, this is a powerful testament to youthful abandon, to the fine lines separating bravery, cowardice, and delusion, and to the tenacity of our species to find ways both large and small to push the darkness away, even for a moment, and reach for the light as it swirls to the pounding music.