Porcelain War: One of the Year’s Best Movies is Still Without Distribution

One of my favorite parts about being a film festival screener is being able to see great films I wouldn’t know about, or that I might not be able to normally see otherwise.  I’ve gotten to see Sundance films without having to pay for a pass, without having to fly to Park City.  The point here isn’t the free films, but being able to see cool stuff that’s accessible, and that potentially expands my cinematic horizons.  A documentary that recently came across my screening queue did just that.  I knew from the information the filmmakers had filled out that it had screened at Sundance, so I figured I’d be in for a treat. 

I want to quickly say that Sundance’s documentary program is a hidden cinematic gem.  Kristin Feeley and her colleagues have been responsible for nurturing and releasing some of the most thought-provoking, inspiring, and meaningful films of our time.  Here’s a list of documentaries that Sundance has programmed over the past decade: 20 Days in Mariupol; Navalny; Fire of Love; All that Breathes; Summer of Soul; Time; Minding the Gap; Hale County this Morning, This Evening; O.J.: Made in America; Cartel Land –hopefully some of these names are recognizable.  I got them all from the Wikipedia page on the Academy Award for Best Documentary Feature.  As of this writing, the Oscar winners of the past three years were all Sundance premieres.

Sundance’s Grand Jury Prize documentary this year was given to an incredible film that I had the good fortune to see as part of my screening work.  It’s a film that stayed with me for many days after I watched, and to which I gave an unequivocally perfect screening score.  After I saw it, I had the fleeting thought to write an entry on it for this blog, but I had real-life stuff to do, and I just made up a ton of excuses.  Besides, what was the point of writing an article on a film that had gotten acclaim at one of the top film festivals in the world, and likely had some kind of Netflix deal?  People would see it.  The movie would have a chance to find its audience.

Then I saw this article in Variety the other day, and I was furious.

Anya Stasenko paints a figurine in Porcelain War (Credit: film’s website)

With any luck, I will be privileged enough to experience the internal workings of distribution deals, and glean insights as to why some films get picked up and some don’t.  If I were a distribution company with any kind of clout, I’d be snapping Porcelain War up and finding a way to promote the crap out of it, even on a limited budget.  While the title might make American audiences think of toilets (though it totally makes sense once you watch the film), if you can get past that you’re in for one of the most affecting, compelling, thought-provoking movies of the year.

As Porcelain War is a film still without distribution, I couldn't find a proper trailer for this film. You can learn more about the movie through Sundance's quick "Meet the Artists" promo above, which includes more information about how the film was shot during the invasion of Ukraine. Porcelain War premiered at Sundance's 2024 festival.

Slava Leyontyev and Anya Stasenko are Ukrainian citizens and artists who make these incredible figurines out of porcelain, and I say incredible because they’re some of the cutest, imaginative, most adorable creations.  Slava and Anya are normal folks who also happen to be funny, intelligent, thoughtful, and clever as people.  They would probably be magnetic enough to follow around if Porcelain War was just about making art.  But within the first three minutes, when the movie dramatically cuts from the sun-drenched countryside to destroyed buildings, you know that the invasion of Ukraine is going to be a component of the film.  The unusual merging of art and war and how this defines Slava and Anya’s experiences in their homeland forms the crux of the movie.

Not only is the film well-edited and paced; the footage in this documentary is extraordinary.  Slava is conscripted after the invasion begins, and brings the cameras with him during the operations of his military unit.  We not only get to meet the brave, resilient members of his team, but see how they respond to the whimsical figures that Slava and Anya create.  Experiencing their joy and wonder at seeing a finished porcelain dragon while on patrol moved me immensely.  Sometimes, your mind wanders into territory about how indulgent art-making can be, and you wonder what good artistic pursuits actually are, especially if they don’t save lives, if they don’t stop the world from falling apart.  But seeing the happiness on those soldiers’ faces during such a perilous time for themselves and their nation when they encountered that dragon – that taught me something about artmaking, and what art means.  Art doesn’t need to save anyone.  Can’t it still have worth just by making others happy?  Isn’t that enough?

Credit: Film and Froth

Still, art can have a stronger purpose.  As seen in the film, it can be used to fight back against oppression.  No sequence makes this clearer than when Anya is seen lovingly painting a military drone, transforming a weapon into another colorful creation that we soon see used in battle.  Through their porcelain creations, and through making this documentary, Anya and Slava are keeping their heritage alive, acting at a time when their countrymen are fighting against a brutal, overwhelming force that wants to erase their history and culture.  This stand the two are seen taking, despite the odds, is something inspiring to witness.  As the film makes clear, it’s not like everything is business as usual in the country.  Civilians are seen being trained for war.  Slava and the other filmmakers are seen driving past military barricades, and avoiding landmines in the woods.  A Ukrainian member of the filmmaking team talks about having to send his children out of the country when the war started, and not knowing if he’s ever going to be reunited with them again.  Additionally, there is body camera footage of an actual battle between the Ukrainian military and the Russians that takes place during shooting, which is some of the most harrowing war footage I’ve ever seen on film.

And still, Slava and Anya narrate their lives and document their tenuous existence for us calmly, rationally, and with real insight and humor.  What they’re able to achieve on a moral and spiritual level under such trying circumstances is momentous.  Though they realize the seriousness of the atrocities now on their soil, they’re fighting back with purpose, persistence, and a clarity of vision.  The invasion hasn’t upended their spirits.  They’re still making art and telling their stories, in addition to fighting literal battles to secure freedom from oppression in their home country.  Slava and Anya, like many people in their home country are doing every day, are fighting, among overwhelming odds, and at times incurring serious physical risk. But to them, the choice is clear.  

In this Porcelain War clip, Ukrainian artist Anya describes the proximity of battle to her doorstep during the invasion. Credit: The Film Stage

“The stories we tell through art, they are also our resistance,” says Slava in the film.  “This is how we avoid erasure…if the future exists for us, if we don’t disappear, then it was worth it.”

There are those out there who would consider Slava and Anya’s actions to be foolish, or even futile.  But I think it says something that the Ukrainian resistance has lasted for much longer than people though possible, and that it’s been so consequential, managing to keep Russian forces at bay while inspiring people around the world.

Porcelain War is a moving, entertaining, and compelling film that also has much to teach about the human spirit.  I hope it gets picked up for distribution.  I hope more people see it.      

Credit: Sundance Film Festival

To learn more about their artists and their work, along with how to support Ukrainian relief efforts, visit porcelainwar.com.