I had a dream that I was dying. Again.

The word militantropos comes from the Latin milit (soldier) and the Greek word antropos (human). In the film, it is described as “a persona adopted by humans when entering the state of war”. They are not anxious or nervous; they are used to the madness, used to war as part of life; they couldn’t imagine their world without it; it's second nature to them.

The film shows this with sensitivity and patience, with scenic pictures and stunning visuals. In a place where aesthetics are the last thing to worry about, the film reveals the beauty in disruption and destruction. Every frame looks like a devastating postcard. These images pair with extensive audio play and a steady camera. The film’s pacing is slow, which can be used to its advantage - and it does, but it runs for 110 minutes of static scenic shots, which felt practically never-ending. The narrative doesn’t center around a group of people but around a nation, around a shared trauma and an adapted lifestyle to war. It represents a feeling, shows emotions and is not a story as a whole. The audience doesn’t resonate with one character; they feel for the victims, for their normalised fear. 

A soldier writes poetry about love and war, hoping to get his first collection published while sitting in a tent, waiting for command. People collect firewood from the shelves of crumbled houses, feed animals, and harvest crops next to fired missiles. They live their lives as if war were normal, as if it were like going to work. They seem upset, complaining when they don’t get to go out into the field or when they are told to stay behind. Three soldiers played rock, paper, scissors to determine who had to stay home. They saw it as losing, not a moment of relief. As if going out to fight was a privilege, a gift. The soldiers on the front lines chat while loading in missiles, sighing and grunting when they miss their target. Fighters in a computer room, angling their shots, come across as having fun, even. It appears like they are playing a video game, not ending lives. They became numb to firing. They aim, shoot and kill. They stand in front of monitors, talking over radios about lining up blasts. It feels alienated, inhuman. They only see a tank, a flag, and an enemy.  One soldier said, “Thank you for your work right now. Looking forward to another batch.” to which the other replied, “Copy that. I love to hit those fuckers”. 

All other human interaction, activities and conversations also take on wildly different meanings depending on context. The choir at Christmas singing about sons going off to war takes on an ironic denotation in Ukraine. Presumably, there were tens of mothers, daughters and sisters in the audience who had lived through that, who could resonate with the feeling of saying goodbye, maybe forever. They speak about everyday things like sweets and coffee, and about being crammed into small spaces, while in the background, missiles are being fired. 

Militantropos stands out among Ukrainian war documentaries. Other films most commonly depict the terror of the front lines, the destruction and the actions on the battlefield. The Academy Award-winning documentary 20 Days in Mariupol presents a port city just kilometers from the Russian border at the very beginning of the attacks. That documentary focuses on the battle experience as it shows the horror of the bombings; broken promises from Putin not to target civilians, and then those very civilians dying. One of the doctors in Mariupol says to the reporters, “Film this. Show this” - this being people passing away on hospital beds, their loved ones surrounding them. 

Militantropos differs from such previous pieces by shedding light on another aspect of war. It shows how people’s lives are transformed by it and how they adapt to it. The militantropos have war internalised, implemented so deeply that they can never know what life could feel like without it. Militantropos approaches this human experience from an everyday, accustomed point of view. It features a state of war in which survivors have grown used to an idea that they were horrified by months and years ago.

The article was written within the framework of the 4th Verzió Young Documentary Film Critics Workshop. Tutor: Steve Rickinson.