Kharkiv-bound as Russia’s invasion of his country commences at full throttle, Viktor Korotovskyi feels helpless. Having been taught by his late father to love his Ukrainian roots and guided by the philosophies of the old samurai films he enjoys watching on television, Viktor believes in his heart that he was born to fight for the land that birthed him. But the most he can do is practise katana routines in his backyard as his mother sadly watches on, for Viktor has been Deaf since the age of five and the world around him is stifled of clarity. Voices next to him are but low rumbles; music is reduced to a pulsing march of vibration. In wartime, one’s survival is tied dearly to clear communication, and Viktor’s diminished hearing is considered a major liability. Try as he might, no one will take him as a fighter.
There is, however, no pity in Olivier Sarbil’s gorgeously monochrome, minimalistic portrait of this man, for Viktor is himself not interested in it. Eventually he convinces the leader of a local unit to take him to the frontlines so that he can act as a photojournalist, documenting tragedies and atrocities from behind his camera. It makes sense Sarbil was so taken with Viktor, himself being a war photographer before he ventured into filmmaking. There is an unspoken kinship between artist and subject, an empathy which radiates outward. It was smart, too, that Sarbil reteamed the sound designers from 2019’s Sound of Metal to give us aural glimpses of Viktor’s perspective. Sarbil uses this device judiciously, never overdoing it to the point of shameless gaudiness, but interrupting the normal soundscape enough so that we never lose Viktor’s reality amidst the galling reality of Russia’s brutality. It’s a reality we quickly learn is adaptable: not a handicap, but a way to be in the world anew, full of life and sense of self.
The film’s most poignant moment comes when Viktor visits a solider who recently lost his hearing. As the two men haltingly communicate, trying their best to decipher vowels and syllables that cling in the air as they lean into each other, Viktor’s soothing reassurances begin to blend with the music of a haunting Ukrainian folksong, and it is here where this young man’s purpose comes to its fullest fore. The effect is undeniably a touching one for a film that found ways to surprise me that I didn’t expect.
Viktor had its world premiere at TIFF in the Platform programme on September 8, 2024.
The Lonely Film Critic 