26/02/2024 - BERLINALE 2024: Svitlana Lishchynska affords us an intimate look at four generations of women against the backdrop of the Russian invasion of Ukraine

“Can there be love where there is no freedom?” asks Ukrainian director Svitlana Lishchynska at the end of A Bit of a Stranger [+see also:
interview: Svitlana Lishchynska
film profile], and her question relates to the full-scale Russian invasion. “Can there be freedom where there is no love?” she wonders in the context of her own family history, explored throughout the film. This documentary is a curious case, with its personal introspections and broader social observation. At times, it’s uneven and meandering, but by the end, Lishchynska has found her footing and shows she’s unafraid to lay bare emotional pains and generational contradictions.

The Mariupol-born director has more than 25 years of work experience in Ukrainian TV, taking in reality shows and documentaries; she has made two mid-length and two feature-length documentaries, but A Bit of a Stranger marks her first appearance at the Berlinale, where the film had its world premiere as part of the Panorama strand.

Born in 1970, Lishchynska came of age in the USSR despising everything related to communism, and when her daughter was born in the 1990s, she left the “Russified” Mariupol for Kyiv. As the film tells us, baby Alexandra stayed with Svitlana’s mother, Valya, whose complex relationship with national identity and language has trickled down the generations in unexpected ways. Perhaps this is why A Bit of a Stranger starts with Valya, who, in her seventies, is still the most enigmatic of all the women. Not much of her past is revealed, as she speaks rather sparsely of it, but the joy with which she approaches the world and her family – whether before the invasion or after – suggests things have not been easy for her. She loves Mariupol and dreads the thought of leaving it, and the Super 8 footage of her wedding in 1968 foreshadows that sense of belonging.

Using her own voice, Svitlana tries to articulate the degree of separation between herself and her mother while also noticing her daughter Sasha pulling away. Three generations of women and their different political inclinations, however slightly so, cannot be united under the homogenising banner of “womanhood” so easily. But for the most part, A Bit of a Stranger prefers not to dwell on the interpersonal tensions, especially since there is a full-blown war happening. Sasha’s pro-Russian views and denial are quickly surmounted by the harsh realities of dislocation, when she and her toddler Stephy are forced to flee to London. In short sequences, we see Sasha curled up on the floor, crying; later, we hear her speak level-headedly about her panic attacks and the reasons she now avoids the news. No elaboration is needed, as the images speak for themselves: lives have been broken, and some were never whole to begin with.

Lishchynska started working on the film before the full-scale Russian invasion, which is why it includes footage labelled as only a few weeks prior, but there is no clear chronology or timeline. Just as memories are, everything is jumbled up. In this free-flowing structure, the director finds a way back to individuality – a concept detested by Soviet totalitarianism – and to love. “When you are like everyone else, you feel loved,” she says. And the opposite has been true for all the women in this family. As heartbreaking as it is to realise life and love have not been truly equal, and your country is the one to blame, there can be newfound intimacy in admitting that you’re vulnerable.

A Bit of a Stranger was produced by Ukraine’s Albatros Communicos, in co-production with Berlin's ZDF, and Sweden’s Vilda Bomben Film and Film i Väst. Film Harbour handles its world sales.