A picture is worth a thousand words. Ukrainian eco-activist, director, editor and cinematographer Dmytro Hreshko reveals the horrific consequences of the War in Ukraine without saying or writing a single line. Seventy-nine-minute Divia is entirely composed of images. Human beings appear merely in passing. They are just another one of the many actors of nature, alongside birds, deer, dogs, dolphins, meadows, trees, knolls, rivers and ravines.
Much of the action is captured by drones – still, flying fast or gently spiralling in and out. Verdant plains are contrasted against scorched earth in order to reveal a land in transit/entranced. Town are razed to the ground. The haunting aerial images are dotted with debris instead of residential buildings, the urban plan – streets, parks and squares – still clearly discernible. An entire forest is reduced to ashes. A city is devoured by water, after a dam collapses. This is a presumably the collapse of the Kakhovka Hydroelectric Power Plant, a human and environmental disaster of disputed cause (both Russians and Ukrainians accuse each other of causing the tragedy, a discussion into which this wordless film doesn’t get).
The ominous music score is an integral part of the synesthetic experience. Heavy thumping blurs our senses, while sharp strings and distorted synthetisers puncture our eardreams and cut through our skin. Constant humming and distant drumming provide the film with a deceptive aura of comfort and stability. Some brief human chanting over a rainbow inject a tiny amount of unwarranted optimism into the proceedings.
War tanks drive across the land while bombs rain from the sky. Hreshko must be grateful to the fact that drones are unmanned devices, and probably no film professionals were hurt or killed in the process of capturing these vivid and disturbing images. The same cannot be said about military personnel. The destruction of a moving vehicle right in front of our very eyes (or rather, the lenses of the drone) leaves little doubt as to the existence of war casualties (ie the images showcase events where people get killed).
The land is alive, much like a human body. High-precision surgery is required in order to clear the minefields, and to render the area usable again. The medical tool is a metal detector emitting a creepy, bird-like tune. Military debris – rusty shells, contorted scrap and piling hardware – quickly deteriorates, eventually fusing into the earth, much like a benign skin tumour. Mushroom explosions open craters in the ground, leaving permanent marks on the landscape. War is like cancer: it’s highly destructive, traumatic, and it often leaves prominent scars on its victims.
Divia premiered at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival, when this piece was originally written. Also showing at the Sarajevo Film Festival, and the Tallinn Black Nights.
