Intercepted is the latest documentary by Ukrainian-Canadian filmmaker Oksana Karpovych. Recipient of the Grand Prize award for the National Feature Competition at the RIDM 2024, Intercepted shows the destruction left by the Russian army in Ukraine through a compilation of urban and rural frames. Karpovych’s is a high-concept structural film favouring broken and torn landscapes instead of more common portraits. These images are accompanied by intercepted phone calls made by Russian soldiers back home, functioning almost as a voice-over narrator. This assorted selection of crude, evil, mean-spirited calls acts as a showcase of the current state of the national Russian psyche. There is an objective conscious choice by the filmmaker to vilify the Russian soldier, understandably so, given Karpovych’s background. The atrocities committed by the Russian forces have been widely covered and known, however, Karpovych’s film excels at showing the emotional toil of it. Some subjects show guilt and reticence to their leaders’ orders, while others show apathy and a chilling lack of remorse, relishing the chance to commit war crimes.
Karpovych also chooses to have all these conversations between male soldiers and a woman addressee. Perhaps showing the disparity and separation between these two genders, or even alluding to the historical implications of the term “motherland” in the Russian context. Be that as it may, this is what makes Karpovych’s documentary evolve into a complex layered film. One might have been inclined to believe that war would be universally reviled, especially as many of the soldiers express that they cannot find a reason to be deployed into Ukraine as their commanders send them to their certain deaths. Yet, due to controlled media narratives and a terrifying indoctrination campaign by Russian officials, the dialogues with people back home offer no respite. Not to the soldiers, nor Ukrainians or the audience. The atrocities on the battlefield seem to be fueled by a powerfully misplaced sense of anger and frustration. In Karpovych’s film, hatred is systematical and dogmatic. It has seeped into most ranks of Russian society, like an uncontrolled infection.
However, everything is not a bleak hellscape. For brief but crucial minutes, Karpovych offers several tableaux-vivants where we get to see people enjoying themselves on a beach or playing volleyball on a city court. Despite being surrounded by wreckage and debris, these seemingly small acts not only act as a buffer for the audience to catch their breath but also a conscious act of resistance against the hatred and apathy that is highlighted throughout the rest of the documentary. Moreover, these sparse scenes seem to be the ones that remain in the subconsciousness of the audience. Presented with inevitable shocking static images (and sounds) throughout the movie, it is the more peaceful moments that leave a longer-lasting imprint as the credits roll. A bizarre paradox but a beacon of hope nonetheless.
In short, Karpovych’s film succeeds at creating an atmospheric landscape documentary that exposes the inhumane conditions of war while elevating the resilience of Ukraine and its people. Intercepted can be hard to watch/listen to at moments. The calls are heartbreaking and infuriating, ultimately achieving Karpovych’s intent to internalize and never forget the nerve, the corruption, the thirst and the hate that rule over the Russian imperialistic intentions.
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