Belarusian filmmaker Nikita Lavretski unveiled his 586-minute-long film Ulysses [+lee también:
crítica
entrevista: Nikita Lavretski
ficha de la película] in the main competition of the Ji.hlava International Documentary Film Festival. Cineuropa sat down with the filmmaker to talk about transforming the video diaries of political prisoner Ruslan Zgolich into a structured narrative, and blending real footage with fictional storytelling elements in order to draw up a psychological map of Minsk reminiscent of James Joyce’s Dublin.

Cineuropa: It’s surprising to learn that Ruslan Zgolich has been in a mental institution since 2022. How did that affect your approach to the film?
Nikita Lavretski: Yes, he’s been undergoing compulsory treatment for nearly three years now and is recognised as a political prisoner by multiple human rights organisations. Because of this, there’s no direct contact with him. But I didn’t feel the need for that; I was able to work with his footage without needing to involve him personally.

Initially, one might think you had been working together because his presence on screen is so intense. It’s hard to tell if he was genuinely himself or playing a character.
No, it’s all documentary footage. These are real vlogs he’s posted over the years, across different social-media channels. I spent a year watching nearly 1,000 hours of this footage and ultimately only used about 1% for the final film.

That’s quite a commitment. How did the idea of turning his video diaries into a structured story come about?
Every found-footage film, I think, needs a story. Without a story, it’s just random clips strung together. I knew about Zgolich; he’s a well-known figure in Belarusian circles. But I wanted something more cohesive, so I thought of Ulysses – the Greek hero’s journey filled with dangers and monsters – and it seemed fitting. The narrative of James Joyce’s Ulysses also came into play, inspiring me to map Zgolich’s journey in Minsk with a similar structure.

Why did you choose to create a story from his video diaries?
Well, why not?

Honestly, audiences might assume it was a kind of Borat-style prank.
That’s one way to interpret it. In one of his last videos, he even says it was all just a prank. But that came shortly before he was institutionalised.

Sorting through hundreds of hours of footage must have been a monumental task. How did you approach it?
I started by watching everything, making extensive notes along the way. I then whittled down the footage to around 100 hours, which I watched in detail to create an outline. This wasn’t a traditional screenplay; it was more of a puzzle, finding the pieces that could best convey a story which I drafted on six pages. Once I was familiar with the material, I structured it like a novel, deciding on the order and the flow of scenes.

For you, is Minsk as integral to Ulysses as Dublin is to Joyce’s novel?
Exactly. Joyce’s Ulysses isn’t just a narrative; it’s a kind of psychological map of Dublin. I wanted to do the same for Minsk, using the city’s geography as a strict framework. For someone from Minsk, it’s all very recognisable. The journey doesn’t skip around randomly; it unfolds step by step, with each location leading naturally to the next.

Was it challenging to shoot in certain areas, given the political sensitivity?
Shooting in Minsk, especially around government buildings, is tricky. Zgolich managed to film in these locations because, as he puts it in the film, “Crazy people can get away with stuff like that.” He’s not exactly hiding, but his behaviour allows him to bypass restrictions that might prevent others from shooting.

So there’s an ambiguity there regarding his mental state?
I’m not qualified to make judgements on his mental health. Belarusian human rights organisations suggest his treatment could be punitive psychiatry, where people are institutionalised on questionable grounds. It’s a controversial topic, but it’s not the primary focus of the film.

At times, it feels like a mix between fiction and reality. You even have a disclaimer, which makes one wonder what’s real and what’s constructed.
That’s intentional. I want viewers to engage with the footage critically. The disclaimer is there to underline that this is a fictional narrative created from real footage. I’m not a documentary filmmaker, so my approach here was more to create a story, rather than provide an objective account. Some of the footage is disturbing, even depicting immoral acts. In a traditional documentary, I’d need to verify everything and get statements from all involved. But here, I’m constructing a narrative, a work of fiction.

Were you concerned about the ethical implications of using real footage this way?
I’m aware these are real people, and most of the footage has been online for years. I’m not revealing anything new, so the impact on real life is limited. Ultimately, this is my interpretation of events, shaped into a fictional structure for viewers to reflect on.