“Silence is not emptiness. It is not the absence of something. It is the presence of the self, and nothing else,” says the riveting titular protagonist in “Viktor.” “In this silence, I find my peace.”
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One of the unexpected gems of this year’s fest, “Viktor” is a (Darren Aronofsky-produced) doc from the multi-award-winning director/DP Olivier Sarbil, a globetrotting conflict photojournalist who’s now chosen to set his latest in Ukraine. (Sarbil is also behind the 2019 Frontline doc “On the President’s Orders,” co-directed with James Jones (“Antidote”), a nail-biting investigative look at the former Philippines strongman Rodrigo Duterte’s deadly “war on drugs” through both its mostly addict victims and chillingly remorseless perpetrators.) But what makes the film so extraordinary is that the ongoing invasion is not the focus but merely backdrop for a window into a truly unique POV on the Russian assault.
For like Sarbil, Viktor is himself a photojourno and cinephile, his taste leaning towards samurai flicks, which he watches on an old TV set with his mom at the house they share in Kharkiv. Burly and bearded, he’s also a fan of Miyamoto Musashi’s “The Strategy of the Samurai,” his bible for living a life infused with “the military spirit” — a value handed down to him by his late father. And Viktor also happens to be Deaf, a disability he likewise shares with the Corsica-born, NY-based filmmaker, who lost hearing in his right ear (along with part of his right hand) back in 2011, the result of an RPG attack he suffered while documenting the civil war in Libya.
It’s an up close and personal, highly stylized excursion, filmed over nearly two years with an eclectic team that included Ukrainian-speaking and Russian-speaking Ukrainians, as well as both hearing individuals and those from the Deaf community. And it’s shot in the same sumptuous B&W as Viktor’s photos, with special attention paid to the star’s philosophical voiceover, culled from a journal of thoughts and feelings he was asked to keep.
And then there’s the ear-catching audio experience — powerfully crafted by a trio that includes Nicolas Becker and Keikki Kossi (“Sound of Metal”). Determined to immerse the viewer in the protagonist’s inner life – literally, right down to how Viktor hears himself — the designers chose to rerecord many of the original sounds through a hearing aid and even used stethoscope microphones to capture sounds through the human body. It’s an attention to detail that pays off in spades, allowing us to hear the silence loud and clear.
So with an unrelenting centering on Viktor himself, we’re thus plunged into this foreign land, invited to tag along as the self-styled ancient warrior fights for his right to defend a country that, frustratingly, won’t allow disabled citizens like him to serve. Nevertheless, our hero finally convinces the local army to bring him along as a volunteer photographer. Which in turn leads to some surprising revelations – like the fact that Viktor, who’s never handled a gun, is a natural with an assault rifle. But also awkward moments. Being from a Russian-speaking city, Viktor’s native tongue is Russian Sign Language and his Ukrainian rudimentary, which can make lip reading a challenge.
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And provide yet more ammunition for the doubters like the troop leader who apologetically tells him that he’ll never be a soldier since “war is all about communication.” Which strikes Viktor as a rather absurd argument considering that commands shouted over the sounds of battle are not always heard. Not to mention that another fighter — a Canadian — can’t use Google translate with him since it only works when Starlink is functioning. “They say the frontline is no place for me. But in this chaos, why am I any different?” he wonders in voiceover, standing solo amidst the framed devastation.
Yet watching Viktor organize a food drive with his Deaf comrades at the behest of his mother, or entering the basement of a building to photograph a family that have not emerged in months, it’s clear he is different. And perhaps playing the role he was always meant to have. For the camera is not just a tool to document history as it unfolds but also a conduit to serving his people. Viktor may be a talented sharpshooter – and swordsman, rendered larger than life as he practices with his katana, a scene heightened by the ominous sound of a Japanese drum – but he’s also a gentle giant, compassionate to the core. Speaking with the babushka in that underground bunker his face softens as he listens intently to her plight, finally embracing the elderly stranger in a bear hug as her inevitable tears start to flow.
For ultimately, like the war itself, life seems to be an improvisational journey of trial and error. As Viktor puts it to a soldier he visits in a hospital who recently lost his hearing, “Now you will have to discover the world without sound. You will have to relearn the sound.” And as he dispenses words of encouragement and wisdom the collective voice of a choir soon soars over the image. Cut to another shot of Viktor, his fingers on a speaker, feeling the vibrations of that song.
Grade: A
“Viktor” premiered at the Toronto International Film Festival.
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