In mid-October, when the weather was still mild in Kyiv, the Zhovten ("October" in Ukrainian) cinema was transformed into a festival palace. In front of this submarine-shaped jewel of Ukrainian Constructivist architecture, festival-goers at Kyiv's Critics' Week exchanged a cigarette or took a selfie with their dog before entering the auditoriums. "I've got to go, I've got Almodóvar," said a latecomer as he ran off.
Among the posters for the seventh edition of the festival, which ran from October 12 to 18, was a small announcement: "The nearest bomb shelter is at the Kontraktova Ploshcha metro station." Back in 2022, when the capital was plunged into darkness after Russian bombs rained down, Zhovten stood "like a cathedral," the only illuminated spot in the trendy Podil district, thanks to the humming truck-generator outside the entrance.
Despite the war, more spectators attended the event: 6,500 people compared with 5,000 in 2021. "People literally went towards the light to see the films," recalled Denys Ivanov, the event director, outside one of the cafés that contribute to the charm of the neighborhood. "When the first screening was interrupted by a warning and the second cancelled due to a power cut, our team thought it was the end. But the festival continued with packed houses." Once again this year, the majority of screenings sold out. The capital's inhabitants love to take refuge in front of a big screen.
The program included a cross-section of Ukrainian and Polish films, retrospectives, and previews of feature-length films screened at Cannes and the Berlinale. "The war goes on, but questions of gender and equality are always there," explained Ivanov. "We didn't want to anesthetize the public. On the contrary, our aim was to put them in today's context."
At 10 pm on Sunday, October 15, 400 spectators, most of them young, filled the large auditorium to see Forever-Forever, the first film by Ukrainian director Anna Buryachkova, first shown in Venice. Before the auditorium plunged into darkness, the facilitator complied with the current requirements: "In the event of an air raid, the siren will sound in the auditorium and the screening will be interrupted for a few minutes. Those who wish to do so can head for the shelter and the screening will continue." War doesn't scare movie buffs.
"We wanted to provide viewers with a window into another reality," explained festival co-founder Daria Badior, "to show them that they're not alone. After all, that's what film festivals are all about." At the microphone, voices, often trembling, shared their experiences between questions. A young man in his thirties admitted he cried through most of the film.
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