07/07/2025 - The immersive, dialogue-free documentary by Ukraine's Dmytro Hreshko shows us how the war is affecting nature and animals

The third feature-length documentary by Ukrainian director Dmytro Hreshko, Divia [+see also:
trailer
interview: Dmytro Hreshko
film profile], which has just world-premiered in Karlovy Vary's Crystal Globe Competition, looks at the underexplored and underrepresented toll of Russia's invasion of Ukraine on nature and animals. An immersive, dialogue-free film, it is an impressive endeavour, sure to attract the attention of festivals and maybe even a few distributors in more receptive territories. And it could be a good fit for streaming, too.

There are many city symphonies, but nature is most often relegated to narrated TV fare. Hreshko's film, in turn, is an epic of destruction and the rebirth of nature. Even though it doesn't have a traditional plot, it clearly follows storytelling principles. Its key assets are – expectedly – the cinematography by Hreshko and Volodymyr Usyk, the music by Sam Slater, and the sound design by Vasyl Yatsushenko and Mykhailo Zakutskyi, all operating meticulously both on a grand scale and in smaller, more intimate moments.

The film introduces us to Ukraine's natural world via overhead shots, with the camera constantly spinning slowly around its axis. We fly over forests, mountains, fields, lakes, the sea, rivers and these places’ inhabitants – deer, wild boars, bears, bison, birds – to a soaring orchestral score. Then, the camera brings us closer to the ground, gliding through the landscapes. As we hear the first aeroplane and explosion, the score darkens, and animals run into hiding. A recurring musical motif appears for the first time: a deep, Inception-like sound, except less intense, but darker and somehow more eerie – probably a double bass played with a bow. The music turns dissonant, at times resembling the industrial-noise subgenre, marred by static and feedback, and peppered with sighs, cries and whispers from the vocalists, plus a few distant, unintelligible lines that we imagine are coming from soldiers in action.

We see tanks and buildings being blown up, and then scorched earth, flooded cities (Zaporizhzhia is identified thanks to a restaurant sign half under water, as there are no title cards to inform us of the locations), destroyed villages and forests of blackened trees, all dotted with rusty tanks and missile shells. Occasionally, the camera comes down to the ground, and we see a veterinarian feeding a cat in a destroyed village. The music cuts off, and mine-clearing personnel are doing their work in medium-wide shots and close-ups. Dead fish and dolphins wash up on the shores.

Then, the film again switches gear to show us that nature and wildlife renew themselves: flowers are growing in the rust and dirt, a ladybird crawls over the remnants of a rocket, and we hear insects buzzing, birds chirping and frogs ribbitting. A deer shown retreating earlier is shyly peeking between the trees. People in white coats are taking water samples.

The coda includes some of the most striking images, but also a repetition of earlier motifs, and comes across as tonally indecisive and not entirely necessary. But when you think about it, this does aptly mirror the course of the exhausting war itself.

Just like in the media, saturated by an ever-increasing number of wars, disasters and troubling news in general, there is an unfortunate but undeniable fatigue with Ukraine-related films in the documentary market. In this sense, Divia has a good chance of standing out as a feature with the widest scope so far.

Divia is a co-production between Gogol Film (Poland), UP UA Studio (Ukraine), Valk Productions (Netherlands) and UP USA Studio (USA). It does not yet have an international sales agent attached.