We review Kinoteka, the Polish Film Festival

Kinoteka, a Polish film festival that tours annually in the UK, recently made its stop in Nottingham, putting on show some of the finest new and classic Polish films for British audiences. I had the pleasure of seeing two of these films over the last couple of weeks - Under the Volcano (2024), directed by Damian Kocur, and Under the Grey Sky (2024), directed by Mara Tamkovich. These features offered extremely harrowing, challenging, but also hopeful perspectives on contemporary international conflicts, the War in Ukraine and the 2020 Belarusian protests respectively. Both films caused me to question how we as individuals can possibly hope to respond to catastrophic global events that are essentially out of our control, what obligations we have to give our lives for these causes, and the ways in which our personal lives are crushed by the greater forces of global and historic events. Both of these are, to me, examinations of the price of martyrdom, what it means to fight, and potentially die, for a cause you believe in. 

Under the Volcano

Under the Volcano follows a Ukrainian family who happen to be on holiday in Tenerife when the Russian invasion of Ukraine breaks out, and find themselves unable to return home, trapped on their holiday in the Canary Islands. What starts out as an idyllic family vacation quickly turns into a nightmare, as Tenerife slowly warps into a kind of Purgatory - the family knows they can’t stay here, but where else can they go, now that their home has been transformed into a warzone? The rest of the film maintains this low, ambient sense of tension because the audience is fully aware the family cannot remain in this holiday sanctuary for much longer, but where else can they possibly turn? 

This film took on a very unexpected tone and narrative structure that led to an incredibly unique and thought-provoking perspective on this devastating conflict. Much of the film’s focus is on the teenager and oldest child in this family, Sofiia (Sofiia Berezovska), who from the very beginning of the film is suffering from the same teen angst that teenagers anywhere in the world could relate to. For much of her storyline the war in Ukraine almost seems to sink into the background. Instead, her character arc more resembles something we’d see in a typical teen drama: struggling with boys, feeling shy around girls her age, arguing with her friends, feeling lonely and home-sick on holiday. This perfectly captures the surreal experience of living through tragedy and horror. We assume that, should we ever live through a cataclysmic historic event, like a military invasion, it would transform our ordinary lives forever. But in reality, this is almost wishful thinking, a desire for escapism. The truth is that we live through profound trauma, but our everyday lives persist anyway. Sofiia sits on her phone scrolling through social media - videos of her friends partying mixed in with videos of missiles being fired at her home. Horror and mundanity. This proved to be a really captivating method for framing the narrative. This effect is so potent that for a while the viewer almost forgets the war is happening entirely, until the film’s conclusion when it is suddenly snapped back into focus.

Roman (Roman Lutskyi), Sofiia’s dad, decides at the end of the film that he is going to return to Ukraine to join the military and fight back against the Russian invasion. Throughout the film, we see him struggle with feelings of shame and inadequacy; he feels he has an obligation to fight and defend his home, and feels like a coward for remaining in Tenerife and avoiding the war. We see him hearing about members of his family going to fight in the war without him. His wife at one point mocks his suggestion that, were he in Ukraine, he would be fighting too. 

Roman’s feelings of inadequacy here are framed through a gendered lens; Roman has the notion that as a man it is his role to fight in wars, defend his home, defend his family, to be brave and strong. By staying in Tenerife, he is essentially emasculated. Eventually, he decides to go back home and join the fight, but this brings with it complications of its own. Roman has in effect abandoned his family in a very difficult and precarious situation because of his desire to fight in this war. I think that here the film raises a very difficult question about the price of martyrdom and self-sacrifice: is Roman’s choice here selfless or selfish? His choice to go and fight in this war against an invader is undeniably courageous and heroic. But is he ignoring the consequences of his sacrifice, abandoning his children and his young wife so that he can go and live out his masculine fantasy, giving up his life in a war? Does his sacrifice atone for everything he is putting his family through? Is he so caught up in his fervour for war, in his belief in his obligation to fight, that he has completely forgotten about his own family? Or is his participation in this defense of his home ultimately justified? The film leaves the answers to these questions up to the viewer. 

What this film presents to such great effect is an examination of the role of the individual when faced with catastrophic global and historical events. We can either allow these events to fade away into the background, trying our best to just get on with our ordinary lives in spite of the tragedies that we have endured. Or we can attempt to take action, to allow ourselves to be consumed by these events, leaving out past lives behind, for better or for worse. This film considers both perspectives.

Under the Grey Sky

Following similar themes, Under the Grey Sky tells the story of a journalist arrested for reporting on the 2020 Belarussian protests, inspired by the true story of Katsyaryna Andreeva, a Belarussian journalist arrested for false charges of treason after reporting on the 2020 protests. The film presents an extremely stressful and anxiety-inducing recounting of Lena, the journalist’s (Aliaksandra Vaitsekhovic), persecution, that takes on an almost Kafkaesque quality; the scenes are cold and grey, the sets are tight and claustrophobic, the performances convey a constant sense of quiet dread, the authorities that are persecuting Lena remain for the most part distant and faceless. The cumulative effect of this is to create an overwhelming feeling of inescapable panic. After Lena is arrested, the film follows her husband, Ilya (Valentin Novopolskij), as he attempts to negotiate his wife’s release from prison, as well as having to navigate the emotional turmoil of his wife’s false imprisonment.

Towards the end of the film, Lena is given a deal: to confess her treason on camera in return for a pardon, or to stand her ground and remain in prison. Here, as with Under the Volcano, the film is setting out to examine the price and purpose of martyrdom. Lena immediately feels compelled to deny the pardon - to stay true to her principles and make a stand in support of free journalism and against state violence. She feels that to accept the pardon would be to abandon her peers and would represent a total capitulation. Ilya, on the other hand, urges Lena to accept the pardon - to swallow her pride and give the authorities what they want. He believes that the symbolic victory of refusing the pardon would not be worth the years of suffering Lena would be forced to endure should she remain in prison. In fact, we learn throughout the film that Ilya has always been alarmed by Lena’s idealism. Long before she was detained, Ilya has tried time and time again to persuade Lena to adopt a more quiet and conformist existence; we even see him attempt to sabotage Lena’s journalistic career out of fear of the consequences for her rebellion and dissent. Lena’s arrest, then, is Ilya’s worst fears come to life, and he is therefore very eager for Lena to accept the deal. Lena, however, is highly courageous, principled, and loyal to the protest movement, and so is horrified by the notion of confessing to her treason in front of the nation. We as the viewer naturally admire Lena for her bravery and commitment, and we can’t help but resent Ilya for holding Lena back and for being so pliant. 

The film asks an interesting question here about the value of martyrdom. Although we may in some ways dislike Ilya for the way he sabotages Lena, it’s impossible to not sympathise with him too; his desire for his wife to take the deal may appear cowardly, but it's also entirely understandable for someone to want to get their loved one out of a dangerous prison, no matter the cost. And is Lena’s desire to reject the deal really worth it? Is it better to win a small victory over those who have persecuted you, to deny them the satisfaction of seeing you abandon your principles, or should we just be concerned with avoiding unnecessary suffering? Just like with Under the Volcano, this is another difficult question these films confront us with. In a sense, we can interpret this difficult decision that Lena and Ilya are forced into as just another way that Lena is tortured by the system - forcing her either through the humiliation and devastation of abandoning her morals, or forcing her to suffer years in prison. 

So what meaning is to be taken away from this? That we should, in fact, remain true to our principles, since if we try to abandon them it’ll just come back to bite us anyway? Or that we still have to keep fighting for justice and for ourselves no matter how hopeless it may seem? Or perhaps it just means that the system that these people are fighting against is so faceless and brutal that any attempt to find meaning or to take a stand in our suffering will just leave us even more terrified and confused than when we set out. Whatever message you take away from this film, it is hugely effective in conveying a sense of being totally overwhelmed and crushed by the weight of living under immense oppression. I thought that this movie was genuinely fascinating and insightful. 

Both these films were incredibly unique and surprising in their framing of their respective subject matters, and both of them asked challenging, confrontational, and thought provoking questions about sacrifice and martyrdom that left me mulling over these films for days. I really loved this festival, and I’m so glad to have been able to see some of the films they had on show. Festivals like this are so important for promoting international cinema, and I strongly urge everyone to attend any festival like this one that they can in future.