‘Klondike’ review: Ukrainian Oscar submission from Maryna Er Gorbach is an uncompromising, startling look at war, displacement, and resistance

The shooting of Malaysia Airlines Flight 17 and the Russian-Ukrainian conflict at Donbas are both central to Maryna Er Gorbach’s powerful feature Klondike – but the heart of the film lies in its quietest, most intimate moments. Despite a backdrop of political conflict, this is a film about loss, fighting for one’s sense of identity and an ode to the power, resilience, and sheer audacity of women especially at times of conflict.

Set to represent Ukraine in this year’s Best International Feature Film Oscar race, the film delivers a powerful, unflinching look at the life of a family whose every existence is shattered by the 2014 Russian-Ukrainian border conflict. The film’s opening scene, when a bomb destroys the wall of the house where most of the film’s happenings would then take place, is symbolic for what’s to come: the lives of the house inhabitants, just as everyone who lives on the border, will never be the same.

The inexplicable, sudden hole in the house’s living room creates irreversible effects; no longer does it ever feel safe, always exposed in open air, hanging in there as an open wounded structure that may never be fixed. And, as much as the house owners try to amend the destroyed walls, the damage has been done, with long lasting effects.

July 17, 2014. Grabove village, Donetsk region. Ukrainian couple Irka and Tolik reside in that shattered house, and their very existence relies on it. With basic means to survive, even before the conflict, the couple is expecting their first child and try hard to make ends meet. But things soon take a much darker turn with the MH17 crash, as well as the growing conflict on the border is endangering their lives every day.

As life becomes almost intolerable, Tolik starts to consider leaving the region, particularly amidst growing pressure from separatists (Donetsk People’s Militia (formerly also called Russian separatist forces in Donbas) were militias as well as armed volunteer groups affiliated with the former Russian-recognized regimes in Donbas). But Irka (played wonderfully by Oksana Cherkashina) vehemently refuses to leave her land, the only land she ever knew, and resists every danger knocking on their door. Unlike her husband’s fragile personality, to the extent he aids the separatists while never being able to stand up for himself nor taking a stance, Irka is strong-willed and razor-focused on doing everything she can to maintain her existence in her hometown. But her resistance seems to be against a myriad of dangers, impossible circumstances, and a brutal conflict with no end in sight.

Maryna Er Gorbach’s camera never leaves the house, except in rare instances where the story requires broader contexts, and the film is intentionally made to feel claustrophobic. The confines of the house reflect the lives of the couple – and the huge gap/hole that’s emerged in it. As the house falls apart, so does their marital relationship, and reversely, Irka’s resistance grows further and further. Gorach’s direction is assured, and Sviatoslav Bulakovsky’s brilliant cinematography perfectly embodies Gorach’s vision, giving us long takes where we, as audience members, are invited to become in the couple’s shoes, as we see their everyday life becoming something more of an arduous struggle.

Ultimately, Klondike is a tale of fighting the impossible, resisting what seems like an inexplicable fate and striving to exist in a world that’s constantly trying to bring you down. As Irka gives birth on a damaged couch right in front of the hole that has shattered the only home she’d ever known, we’re reminded of the silent courage of women who continue to endure and resist, and whose victories do not exist on battlefields – but rather in the lives of who they nurture and protect.

Grade: B

Klondike is the official International Feature Film Oscar submission for Ukraine.