“A powerful portrait of tenacity and the virtue of hope.”

When it comes to stories about war, the female perspective is rarely seen in comparison to male viewpoints. At least in terms of capturing the more harrowing aspects of the concept, since war tends to be perceived as a more masculine endeavour, rather than something that has far-reaching consequences that overcome gender boundaries. However, arguably the greatest war film ever made was by a woman, with Larisa Shepitko’s The Ascent being one of the most gruelling depictions of conflict ever committed to film. Nearly fifty years later, we have another essential directorial voice emerging from Ukraine in the form of Svitlana Lishchynska, who brings a similar kind of complex humanity to her account of the current war, as witnessed from her family home in Mariupol. A Bit of a Stranger acts as a spiritual successor to her first film, Invisible Battalion, which similarly focused on socio-political issues in Ukraine through a distinctly female perspective. Set in the months and weeks before the Russian invasion of her home country, the film finds the director looking at the conflict through the perspective of various women in her life, mainly her mother, daughter and granddaughter. Focusing on their experiences in the days leading up to the Russian attack, as well as those that came in its direct aftermath, A Bit of a Stranger presents a bleak but powerful portrait of these women as they navigate their challenges, doing their best to survive while also remaining optimistic that this war will not be the end to their familial unity.

War is a subject that takes on many forms, and there is very rarely a definitive approach to exploring it cinematically. Lishchynska chooses to focus less on the mechanics of the conflict, or the exact political atmosphere, and more on her own personal recollections and experiences of the tensions between her native Ukraine and Russia. Her attention particularly goes to those formative moments of the war, where the gathering storm could be perceived from a distance. She and her mother reflect on their memories of being born and raised during the era of the Soviet Union, which she is thankful her daughter and granddaughter didn’t need to experience. Yet, what they face in their youth is in many ways just as challenging – and in telling this story, the director examines how times of social and cultural upheaval can have an indelible impression on one’s identity. Throughout the film, Lishchynska constantly returns to two foundational themes: family and identity, which are interwoven in creative and impactful ways, particularly in the sequences where the characters undergo the difficult process of revisiting the past. Memories can be a burden, but they guide these women as they attempt to maintain their resilience, giving some reprieve and solace in a time when it is most necessary.

Towards the end of the film, the director asks her mother a very simple question: “Who are you?”; it relates to the conversations around identity and how war can strip someone of the most fundamental understanding of who they are, at least metaphorically. Throughout A Bit of a Stranger, Lishchynska interrogates and challenges the past, present and future, perceiving them as not being linear, but rather a series of moments that influence one another. This is reflected in the formal aspects of the film – the director weaves together archival footage (such as home videos and newsreels) with images captured specifically for this project. That creates a simple but effective depiction of Ukraine at different points in history, as well as offering insights into what the director and her cohorts expect it to be in the future. Lishchynska stands in a very interesting position – she was attempting to tell the story of her homeland as it goes through a period of war, but she becomes the subject of her own film. She is both an observer of the narrative and someone who crafts it, which would be detrimental to anything that was not so deeply personal. A Bit of a Stranger is as much about portraying the situation in Ukraine as it is an intimate portrait of a single family as they navigate these harrowing challenges.

There is a scene when the director’s mother, about to board a train out of the war zone, looks up and observes the sky. She remarks it is oddly beautiful on that particular day, which is only one of many moments in this film that make it very clear what the director was hoping to accomplish. There are layers of optimism that underpin A Bit of a Stranger, and the director presents quite a positive image of the future, which can be surprising for a film that tackles such distressing subject matter. We can either view this as an attempt to instil hope in the Ukrainian people and their allies that this war will not break their ironclad spirit, or merely the musings of a filmmaker who realizes that the only way to maintain her sanity and hope for the future is through being positive in the face of disturbing conditions and violent conflict, which is reflected in the striking images of destroyed buildings and the displaced populations. The fear and uncertainty felt by these women are combatted by a genuine hope for the future, and this film makes some profound statements that make it clear that they genuinely believe change will come at some point. Part documentary, part visual diary, A Bit of a Stranger is a powerful portrait of tenacity and the virtue of hope, and while it refuses to pacify the reality of the war and the conditions that people like them face on a daily basis, it does encourage an optimistic outlook. In times of hopelessness, the ability to keep living is perhaps the bravest act of all.