As a child fortunate enough to be able to travel a lot and even live abroad for a few years (shoutout to the lovely town of Guildford, Surrey!), I always loved trying to see my homeland through the eyes of non-Ukrainians. As a grown-up who's had time to reflect on the post-colonial legacy Ukraine is struggling with I'm starting to see that a lot of the questions I used to get about Ukraine as a kid were often influenced by vaguely Russian narratives and tropes largely found in spy thrillers about the Cold War, but I still feel lucky to have met so many people curious to learn more about this mystery-shrouded country with the unpronounceable name. Now, of course, I get to talk about Ukraine to tens of thousands of wonderful people online, and even though the main reason they're so curious about Ukraine is the horrific war I constantly wish had never happened, I'm still happy Ukrainians such as myself are finally given a platform to talk about our beautiful homeland. I love talking about Ukraine and Ukrainians in general, so any Ukraine-adjacent topic brings me immense joy, but some of the favorite questions I've ever gotten both online and while chatting to western journalists were specifically about Ukrainian cinema.
So I've decided to compile a list of films that, in my opinion, would be a good starting point for anyone interested in the history of Ukrainian movies, in the cinematic representation of this war, or just looking to support Ukrainian filmmakers while also enjoying something well-crafted but not necessarily... too artsy. Some of these films are going to be immediately accessible and are genuinely fun watches, while others might leave you furrowing your brow and doing some extra research on Wikipedia, and others yet are sure to break your heart. Whatever your mood (and tolerance for emotional pain), I'm pretty sure you'll find something you might love.
For those curious about Ukraine's history (and willing to give older movies a shot)
Ukrainian cinema has often been under-appreciated, and I'm sure not many people well-versed in the history of cinema would name more than three Ukrainian filmmakers without doing a little research first. And that's heartbreaking, because Ukrainian filmmakers have managed to make incredible art even under constant surveillance and repressions from the Soviet State, and I wish more people would take the time to properly reflect on their work and the challenges they faced. So if you enjoy old films (especially of the symbolism-heavy variety, since, again, a lot of the ideas expressed by Soviet-era filmmakers could only be hinted at using imagery and not addressed directly), I would suggest starting with two absolute classics: Oleksandr Dovzhenko's Zemlya and Sergei Parajanov's Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors.
The movies are radically different: Zemlya is a black-and-white drama about the Soviet policy of collectivization that began in the 1920s and essentially ended up allowing the Soviet authorities to take away Ukrainian farmers' land, brutally crack down on anyone unwilling to give up their farmland, and create massive state-controlled 'collective farms' where peasants were forced to toil to provide the entire Soviet Union with enough food to feed it's workers and even sell abroad. Collectivization is a traumatic topic for Ukrainians, since so many of us grew up with stories of how our grandparents were pretty much forced to work at these huge farms or ended up in jail for resisting. And Dovzhenko approaches the topic with incredible nuance and emotion, portraying both the enthusiasm many young Ukrainians initially had for this newly-announced policy, as well as foreshadowing the issues that would soon arise. You can watch the film for free on YouTube, but if it happens to be available in your region, I strongly recommend streaming this restored version which even has a completely new soundtrack composed by DakhaBrakha, a cult band famous for their weird, eclectic style of chaotic folk cabaret music.
Meanwhile, Shadows of Forgotten Ancestors, which was filmed thirty years later, is a colorful, unabashedly stylized romantic drama about doomed love, fate, and local tradition set in the 19th century in the Carpathian Mountains. Full disclosure: as you could have guessed by the name alone, Sergei Parajanov was actually an Armenian film director who happened to make one of the most influential Ukrainian movies ever made. Shadows invented a new lush cinematic language that rebelled against the state-approved style dubbed social realism, portrayed ancient Ukrainian traditions (naturally, the soviet authorities weren't big fans of that, either), and ended up turning the young and promising Parajanov into both a man distrusted by the authorities (most of his next projects were either scrapped or banned, and after a decade of persecution he was outright arrested and imprisoned) and hugely admired by his peers. But even if you're largely unaware of the context surrounding the film, it's just a breathtaking work full of vibrant color, poetic symbolism and genuine cinematic magic. Shadows has been known to stream on Mubi from time to time, it's on the Ukrainian streaming service Takflix, but if all else fails you can also find it in reasonably decent quality on YouTube.
If you want something that'll leave you reeling for days
If we're talking about modern classics, then one film that immediately comes to mind is Myroslav Slaboshpytskyi's The Tribe, which was one of the first films made in independent Ukraine to receive critical acclaim both locally and abroad, and is still seen as a masterpiece. Word of warning, however: it is not a fun watch. Exceptionally well-made? Absolutely. Brutal, uncomfortable, heartbreaking and just unpleasant in any way you can imagine? Also yes. The Tribe is made entirely in Ukrainian sign language and focuses on a group of deaf young Ukrainians living in a prison-like boarding school. There's no soundtrack, no spoken dialogue, and no subtitles. Just an unflinching glance at an often overlooked part of society, a bleak and violence-filled little world with little hope in it.
If you ever happen to be making small talk with a Ukrainian cinephile and run out of topics, just ask them about their experience seeing The Tribe at the movies for the first (and, probably, only) time, and the conversation is sure to get interesting. If you're curious about my experience watching this, then I remember sobbing all the way home from the cinema, while several of my friends distinctly remember walking out of the screening room and immediately throwing up. That's exactly the kind of feel-bad film Slaboshpytskyi made.
If you want to view the ongoing war through a cinematic lens
At this point you might be wondering if Ukrainian filmmakers ever make movies that aren't about historical trauma, doomed love, or violent gangs of deaf kids. And sure they do – but most of the really good films are ones that address issues Ukrainian society is actively grappling with, and obviously the past few decades haven't been easy for us, so our films reflect that. And the ongoing invasion of Ukraine by Russia is, naturally, a topic that few artists can ignore. Of course, it'll be much easier to process all of these films somewhere in the future, once this horrific war is just a tragic memory, but there have already been several standout films that will probably become classics in due time. I'd suggest watching two live-action films (Valentyn Vasyanovych's Atlantis, which imagines the challenges of a near future in which the war is over but Ukrainians have to deal with a bleak postwar world filled with unidentified bodies, ecological disaster, and unaddressed trauma, and Roman Bondarchuk's slightly surreal Volcano which portrays rural life in Southern Ukraine) and one documentary, the heartbreaking (that's a word I've used often while writing this text) 20 Days in Mariupol.
Oh, and here's a third feature film that you should watch: Nariman Aliev's Homeward. Unlike Atlantis and Volcano, it's not as much about the war itself as it is about the consequences experienced by a specific community of people that hasn't been the focus of nearly enough films, Crimea's indigenous population.
If you desperately need something a little lighter
Alright, alright, there are several good Ukrainian films that aren't likely to leave you in an emotional stupor. Antonio Lukich's debut feature, My Thoughts Are Silent, and it's follow-up Luxembourg Luxembourg, are both wickedly funny, hopeful, and showcase daily life in the smaller Ukrainian cities that don't get enough attention from big publications. They're slightly surreal, heartfelt without being depressing, and filled with nostalgia and eclectic references. If you're lucky enough to catch them on a big screen somewhere, do yourself a favor and definitely check them out, but otherwise I think they're streaming on Takflix. And if you happen to be in Ukraine, they're also available on Netflix.