Як відновлювали пожежну частину у Макарові | Літо. Табір. Війна

Film made by activists who lived for a month in the Plaça de Catalunya in Barcelona after the start of a full-scale Russian invasion of Ukraine in 2022.

While the armed conflicts on the Ukrainian front have become a traumatizing everyday reality, out of necessity new structures of care have developed among Ukrainian society. As a contemporary document, this film looks at unseen moments of care work - continuous attempts to restore respect and security to people who have been violently deprived of them.

There are things that are indescribable and unspeakable when the disasters that affect our lives are beyond comprehension. Certain fundamental experiences seem irreducible to any form of expression. So how do we convey their intensity? How do we put them into words? Here, we’re talking about the war inflicted on the Ukrainians for over a year. Daryna Mamaisur is Ukrainian and currently lives in Portugal. O Fumo do Fogo, somewhere between a film diary and an essay, sketches with admirable reserve a path towards the possibility of communicating.

A chronicle of the civil uprising against the regime of Ukrainian president Viktor Yanukovych that took place in Kyiv in the winter of 2013/14. The film follows the progress of the revolution: from peaceful rallies, half a million strong in the Maidan square, to the bloody street battles between protesters and riot police.

In 2022, Mantas Kvedaravičius went back to Ukraine, Mariupol, at the heart of the war, to be with the people he had met and filmed in 2015. Following his death, his producers and collaborators have put all their strength into continuing transmitting his work, his vision and his films. Also a PhD in anthropology, Mantas Kvedaravičius wished to testify as a filmmaker as far as possible from the agitation of the media and the politicians. With huge force and sensitivity, Mariupolis 2 depicts life as it continues amidst the bombing and reveals images that convey both tragedy and hope.

On the morning of October 10, editor Yury Marchenko was supposed to be running through Shevchenko Park, near his home, at the same time as the Russian rockets hit it. One of them — to the playground, the other — to the intersection of Shevchenko Boulevard and Volodymyrska Street. The blast wave damaged "strategic" objects: museums, educational institutions, restaurants, galleries, hospitals, the Ministry of Education, the Teacher's House and the protective structure around the monument to Mykhailo Hrushevskyi. We are looking for an answer not only with Yuriy Marchenko, but also with volunteer Serhii Prytula, architect Slava Balbek, historian Oleksandr Palii, military expert Serhii Kuzan, deputy director of the National Science and Natural History Museum of the National Academy of Sciences Oksana Chervonenko and director of the Khanenko Museum Yulia Vaganova.

They can sense survivors under rubble three metres deep, warn our soldiers of an approaching enemy and show sappers where to look for a mine. And they are also cute. Service dogs and dog handlers saved us even before Russia's full-scale invasion, but after 24 February, the threats and challenges increased. The film is about how dogs and military, rescue and rescue dog handlers cooperate and coexist, how they meet each other, build trust and mutual love, learn responsibility and save lives at the risk of their own.

Gathering together dozens of his musicians, providing them with housing and work in Lviv, organising the evacuation of instruments from under fire, and continuing to perform: this is the second time that the director of the Luhansk Philharmonic, Ihor Shapovalov, has revived the orchestra. Back in 2015, after being rescued from Luhansk, Sievierodonetsk became his home. In seven years, Igor has managed not only to staff the orchestra, but also to establish links with orchestras from Europe and different parts of Ukraine, and to show that Luhansk region has always been, is and will be Ukrainian. Today, the battle for Sievierodonetsk is ongoing, and Russia's large-scale invasion is putting the musicians in front of new challenges. But they remember why it is worth taking to the stage again and again, to spread Ukrainian and European culture.

To travel all over Ukraine, collect 25 casts of Ukrainian girls' bodies and make a sculpture out of them for Independence Day. Ceramist Slavik Pasynok spent the summer creating his project ‘The One’. To do this, he made a cast of a certain part of a girl's body in each region. He formed a sculpture from the casts, and the UA: Culture team filmed the process. Is it possible to assemble something unified from different parts?

The artists Zhanna Kadyrova and Denys Ruban spent two weeks in the basement of their house, fleeing from the rocket attacks and sabotage groups of the occupiers that were flooding the outskirts of Kyiv at the time, and then decided to evacuate to western Ukraine. Local residents of one of the Zakarpattia villages sheltered them in a picturesque house on a hillside, next to a river. Doing what you know and love for the benefit of Ukraine is the best thing an artist can do in times of war. This is how the Palianytsia project was born - a series of objects made of stones cut by a mountain river. Zhanna sells them to patrons and galleries and uses the proceeds to buy bulletproof vests, radios, thermal imagers and other things our soldiers need. Before she sends her ‘loaves’ to Venice for the Biennale, Zhanna holds an exhibition in the village where she now lives, so that the people who have taken her in can be the first to see her art.