One of the standout themes at this year’s Nantucket Film Festival has been the prevalence of outstanding films still seeking distribution – an unusually high number, it seems. Among them is Sundance Grand Jury Prize winner for Documentary, Porcelain War, a gripping film that follows a group of Ukrainian artists doubling as civilian soldiers in the face of Russia’s invasion of their homeland. Slava Leontyev and Anya Stasenko, talented ceramic artists, navigate the devastation that has engulfed their country over the past two years. Slava molds figurines while Anya painstakingly paints them, their creations reflecting peace, nature, and folklore – art born from a desire to heal amidst turmoil. Yet, fate demands they split their time between creating beauty and defending their beloved, war-torn land. Their friend Andrey Stefanov, also an artist separated from his family, documents their lives during this tumultuous time with extraordinary intimacy.
This poignant contrast drives the heart of Porcelain War. Their ceramics serves as a central metaphor, echoing the film’s voiceover: “Ukraine is like porcelain – easy to break, but impossible to destroy.” We witness their peaceful creations battered by the ravages of war, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
The film poignantly captures Slava training civilians and preparing for battle. When conflict erupts on screen, the intensity is palpable. We are immersed with the unit, experiencing ground-level perspectives and drone footage as they confront Russian forces, bravely documenting the horrors of war.
What sets Porcelain War apart from other war documentaries is its intimate portrayal of three remarkable individuals facing unimaginable hardships. One such moment captures Slava and Anya walking their dog, Frodo, through the forest – an ordinary scene that transforms into a chilling search for hidden landmines.
Porcelain War masterfully illustrates the enduring power of art in the face of adversity. It tells an incredibly inspiring story of courage and resilience during a crisis, compelling viewers to reconsider the transformative role of creativity in times of turmoil. It is a testament to the indomitable spirit of those who refuse to surrender their humanity, even in the darkest of times.
The second film I watched was In the Summers, which garnered two prizes at Sundance this year (Grand Jury Prize – Dramatic Film and Directing – Dramatic). Directed and written by Alessandra Lacorazza in her filmmaking debut, it draws loosely from her childhood summers spent with her father in Colombia. The film is deeply personal, unflinchingly portraying her father in a rather unfavorable light.
A quiet, slice-of-life coming-of-age story, In the Summers invites viewers to observe as bystanders, witnessing the annual struggles of two sisters during their visits with their reckless father over the years. However, this observational style becomes the film’s primary mode, leading to a narrative that lacks a strong plot or conclusive resolution. By the end, I found myself unsure of the film’s intended takeaway, as it unfolds slowly and revisits the same themes of fractured father-daughter relationships across its four parts.