Imagine being in a dire situation where you cannot speak. It can become a matter of life or death if action is not taken. The area and environment become crucial tools that must be used to conjure up a way to move toward safety. However, even if you utilize your surroundings to the best of your ability, you may not receive the necessary treatment, or worse, your cries for help may be misinterpreted or ignored.
Director Dmytro Hroshko’s “Divia” aims to do just that, to advocate for Ukrainian ecology damaged by eras of conflict with the Russian Federation. The 78-minute documentary film allows the viewer to bear witness to the harsh reality Ukraine’s environment is facing and shows how its healing will require significant efforts from the United Nations and other global powers to compensate for Ukraine’s losses.
In order to truly invoke emotional responses from viewers, Hroshko teams up with Grammy-winning composer Sam Slater to create the music for “Divia.” There is great emphasis on natural ambience in the background to connect the viewer to the intimate side of nature in a film without dialogue or narration. Slater also utilizes heavy and suspenseful instrumentation in scenes of fighting and destruction to paint a disheartening picture of Ukraine’s human and animal populations in times of despair. These two elements contribute to the film’s function as a “metaphysical symphony,” per the film’s logline, letting the viewer take in all truthful landscapes and witness sites of brutality.
The introduction is a representation of what Ukraine could look like in a time of peace. Prior to the title card, aerial shots cut between lush green forests, cerulean rivers, and lush rolling hills. The panning shots of these naturescapes make the viewer feel as if they are not in a war-torn country, the way Ukraine is not often perceived by the west. Conflict with Russia has transformed nature into more of an imagination, something running through the minds of Ukrainian citizens and wildlife.
As “Divia” progresses, the sight of war reveals itself, causing populations to abandon their villages and old lifestyles, only looking back towards the rubble that carries years of history. Former human habitation is now overgrown by nature. The old houses and Soviet-esque buildings are now covered in vines, weeds, or completely submerged from floods. Many Ukrainians are now displaced and unable to return home, which raises the urgency for peace and recovery plans on behalf of the world.
The ecology of Ukraine has suffered great losses, and sadly animal species are sentenced to death without knowing or forced to roam barren wastelands. To pack the punch harder, Hroshko zooms in on animal carcasses for an unsettling amount of time, which pan out to the larger naturescape. One instance that can strike the heart of viewers, mine especially, is the horrific view of a porpoise decaying on the shoreline of a trash-littered beach. The death of these charismatic species like dolphins and large herbivores like horses or moose and their skeletons is meant to reinforce the harsh situation, where animals are butchered in favor of pushing agendas, bound to rot away with the rest of its surroundings.
The film is not a directly anti-Russian art medium, yet the undertones Hroshko inserts into “Divia” speak for itself. Russia seeks to control its former territory by manipulating the surrounding environment, especially bodies of water because they function like the arteries of connection and trade for the country. The exploration of Ukraine takes the viewer through the coastal cities standing as pillars of industry, submerged villages, and shorelines with heaps of dead fish primarily due to pollution. One scene that catches the eye is a first-person view with the camera “swimming” through the water like a fish, with minimal vision because of debris and sunken metal machinery. Even if the cinematography does not portray the scenes as being actions of the Russians, the intentional omission of characters and context conveys nature’s disconnect with politics in the region, and how susceptible it is to rapid change.
Despite the grim state of Ukraine, slivers of hope shine during parts of “Divia.” Divia is the Slavic goddess of nature who stands for peace, a divine being fit to bear the title of Hroshko’s work. Perhaps a religious invocation is what the people rely on to feel that there is a way out of the conflict, which is touched upon briefly with shots of unidentified statues overlooking a wide prairie and a crumbling church.
In the midst of the chaos, art and beauty reveal themselves through nature, whether pure or damaged. One blast center looked like a blazing sun or a glimmering blue eye. One scene in particular pans over a polluted stream, and through its array of colors, I was able to make out a side profile of a face, with a protruding nose, looking down towards a larger object. Pops of colors like pink, white, and green bloom on flowering trees and foliage, accompanied by an uplifting orchestra, perhaps guided by Divia herself.
However, the end fades into a scene of despair, where an explosion goes off in the countryside, slowly fading into deep red and eventually black. Ukraine will find a way to recover, but to this point, the people and nature will have to find new ways to cope and coexist with the long-term effects of this damage, looking toward Divia for answers.
Featured Image: IMDb
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