On February 24, 2022, Russia full-scale invaded Ukraine. During the year, countless lives of Ukrainians were changed — some died; some survived but were left an irreversible sorrow. In this turbulent era, creations based merely on personal emotions no longer satisfy me. What I am concerned about is not only myself as an individual, but the people and what the aftermath of the war will be like.
The inspiration for this plan comes from the liberated Bucha, where the media exposed the war crimes committed by the Russian army during the 33-day occupation in Bucha. And what we can know is only one in millions. In this film, I would like to use the war as the background. The protagonist is also representing the mental state of the people who survived the war. I hope that the film will bring the audience to see not just a drama, but the relationship with the world it will be.
I am not interested in showing what an explosion looks like. I am interested in what a person does in the forty minutes after one, alone, with a decision to make. Ka-Yan LEE, Katrina
I came to film through editing, which means I came to it through the question of what to leave out. That instinct governs this project. The war in this film is almost entirely audible — sirens, distant impacts, the ringing that never quite leaves Margarita's ears. What we see is a woman in a series of rooms, and a child who may or may not be speaking to her.
I have been asked whether the child is real. My answer is that the question belongs to the audience, not the film. What matters is that Margarita's belief is treated with the same seriousness as anything else on screen — because for the people I have spoken to while writing this, belief of exactly that kind is not a symptom. It is a tool.