Donbass

Angry, trenchant, and savagely ironic In an era of fake news and alternative facts, when the public's familiarity with far-flung military engagements derives as much from civilian smartphones as on-the-front-line news reports, and where mass falsehoods promulgate like wildfire via questionable sources on social media, control of propaganda has become a key component of modern warfare. Focusing on the conflict in eastern Ukraine between Ukrainian loyalists and Russian-backed separatists, writer/director Sergei Loznitsa adopts a savagely satirical tone as he examines the corrosive effects hateful propaganda can have at all levels of society. The lack of a standard plot and the absence of a protagonist won't be to everyone's liking, whilst the dearth of geo-political contextualisation will alienate others. Nevertheless, this is sobering stuff, and as timely as it is despairing. Donbass is made up of thirteen segments, each of which are relatively self-contained, with the only real connection between them being that each leads to the next via a particular character, who hands the narrative over (like a baton in a relay race). No character, however, appears in more than two segments. Each segment is based on a documented real-life incident that took place in the Donetsk People's Republic (a pro-Russian proto-state in the Donbass) in 2014-2015. It's worth noting, however, that having covered the origins of the War in Donbass in documentary form in Maidan (2014), Loznitsa is not especially interested here in context. The opening segment sets the satirical tone brilliantly. Watching a group of people having makeup applied, we think we are on a film or TV set, but these people are actually being made up to appear in a "factual" news report as shell-shocked locals, complete with a director telling them what to say, and a stage-managed warzone in the background. It's the very definition of fake news and immediately recalls Wag the Dog (1997), in which a White House spin-doctor hires a Hollywood producer to "produce" a fake war. The film's satire reaches its zenith in a scene where a man heads to a military barracks because he's been told the separatist forces have recovered his stolen jeep, only to learn they want him to sign the car over to them. When he refuses, he's hit with an exorbitant fine. Marched into another room, in a scene like something out of Douglas Adams, he finds that room full of men, all on their phones trying to raise funds to pay the fines with which they too have been hit. Thematically, each segment has its own target, whether a sycophantic hospital administrator, a soldier abusing his power, or an uninformed mob interested only in blaming someone for their misfortunes. No one escapes censure because no one is wholly innocent. A scene with a loyalist soldier tied to a pole is especially difficult to watch, as a baying mob verbally abuse him, then begin spitting and throwing food, and, ultimately, physical assaulting him. When some of the thugs responsible attend a wedding in the following segment, they amuse themselves and the guests by showing smartphone footage of the man being beaten. With a lack of any heroes, or even a protagonist with whom we can identify, the one tone that links the various segments is bitterness; a bitterness deeply ingrained in the souls of the people, who believe what they are being fed. Positing that the war is being fought as much with lies as with weapons, Loznitsa is suggesting that the separatist forces are criminals as much as they are combatants, and are unconcerned with Ukraine or its people, even as they position themselves as the country's saviours. In terms of problems, most of Loznitsa's invective is aimed at the separatists, and in this sense, the film is unbalanced. Another issue is the lack of political contextualisation, with no explanation of who is fighting, nor what they are fighting for. I understand what he's is trying to do here - political context is irrelevant in a conflict built on lies and absurdity - but some kind of concession to an audience not familiar with the politics would have been helpful. Another issue is that because there is no central character, there is no real emotional connection. We certainly feel sympathy with some, but there is never any real pathos. Loznitsa doesn't see the conflict as a legitimate civil war, but instead gang warfare, with the concept of civil war used to legitimatise criminality. In the post-truth politics of the Donbass, reality is a commodity, and its only value is in whether or not it can be sold to the masses. Of course, this situation isn't unique to Ukraine - this simulacrum of a functioning society is replicated all over the world. And for people who still value concepts such as truth, honour, and inclusiveness, this is a worrying trend. Because when truth can no longer be used as a weapon, it must be replaced with something far more powerful and far more dangerous - lies.