THE STORY – Ukrainian artists Slava, Anya and Andrey choose to stay behind and find beauty amid the destruction. They show it may be easy to make people afraid, but it is difficult to destroy their passion for living.
THE CAST – N/A
THE TEAM – Brendan Bellomo, Slava Leontyev (Directors/Writers), Aniela Sidorska & Paula DuPré Pesmen (Writers)
THE RUNNING TIME – 98 minutes
War is, as the saying goes, hell. There’s no way to logically comprehend its atrocities or anticipate its effects, both long and short-term. And thus, there can be no wrong way to react to or fight it. The new documentary “Porcelain War” explores an unlikely trio of Ukrainian freedom fighters, all three of whom are artists forced to adapt to the violent new world that Russia imposed upon them. They work to maintain a sense of dignity and a spirit of beauty in the midst of literal bombings, personifying resilience in a way that most can only pray not to have to do. It’s a noble undertaking, but the film showcasing their efforts struggles to decide precisely what kind of story it wants to tell.
The three artists are Slava, Anya, and Andrey, all of whom never thought that they’d find themselves taking up active resistance against an invading force. Slava makes the unlikely choice to become a weapons instructor to the groups of citizens-turned-soldiers. Anya doubles down on her artistic impulses and leans into creation in a world of destruction. And Andrey picks up a camera and documents the headline-making action as it’s happening (he’s the film’s credited cinematographer in addition to being a subject of the film himself).
Slava and Anya use porcelain as their primary creative outlet, making charming, tiny figurines of friendly-looking creatures and painting them. In fact, the film brilliantly uses these creations as a literal canvas, at times placing beautifully animated sequences depicting the difficulties and wonders of Ukraine right on their small bodies. It’s a genius choice that melds the subjects’ artistic endeavors with the film’s nonfiction story.
That story, however, isn’t told in an entirely clear or effortless way. While Slava and Anya’s artistry is a big part of the film, the majority of “Porcelain War” shows a militia group known as the Saigon Unit fighting back against the Russians in less creatively-minded but decidedly impactful ways. These unlikely soldiers, both men and women, come from all walks of life and are shown to be driven entirely by the love of their country and their compatriots. They use guerilla tactics and impromptu weaponry to attack the invaders, and – not to sound like a bloodthirsty American – the drone footage of their artillery successfully blowing up Russian tanks is thrilling to watch. One harrowing mission shown later in the film is as tense and invigorating as any Hollywood action movie, and these sequences are edited just as well. And yet, this violent, rousing footage doesn’t mesh well with the diversions showing Anya’s art-making processes, which are shot in such a sunny, wistful manner that it’s an appropriately but unsettlingly jarring choice whenever the film cuts from combat scenes to the crafting of figurines and improvised artistic models.
In fact, there was an opportunity for the film to draw a parallel between Anya’s use of found objects in nature (leaves, twigs, etc.) to create a thing of beauty and the way that the soldiers used found and discarded artillery to fashion their own weaponry. But “Porcelain War” doesn’t do so, instead leaning into broad observations and commentary on the nature of good and evil. These quotes are undeniably inspiring, such as Slava’s remark that “Evil exists. Resistance to evil must be undeniably persistent, must be uncompromising.” However, the film’s emphasis on these types of stances makes the film feel nonspecific and vague in its perspective. Still, it’s a well-constructed look at the necessity of art and the resiliency of the human spirit, even if it chooses to do so in an awkward, clashing manner.
