Natalia Serebryakova/Tie2.lt

At this year’s Venice Film Festival, the short film Inaccessible by Kyrylo Zemlianyi premiered — an intimate yet deeply emotional story about a young volunteer trying to evacuate his family from the occupied territories. At the center of the plot is silence, which gradually replaces all words, as the connection with his mother, who remains in the occupied zone, is cut off. And it is precisely this absence of sound that becomes the loudest cry.

For Zemlianyi, whose work goes beyond student projects for the first time, the chosen tone is one of contemplation and trust in the viewer. He doesn’t explain, overemphasize, or heighten the drama, but instead creates space for inner feeling. The protagonist is not a stereotypical “super volunteer,” not a media symbol of resilience, but an ordinary young man unloading boxes in a warehouse, delivering aid, and at the same time pocketing small items. It is within this contradiction that the truth emerges. In a world of war, there are no “perfect” people, only those trying to survive and save their loved ones.

The Personal as Foundation

At the heart of the film lies the director’s own experience. In 2022, he himself volunteered, helping with humanitarian deliveries. At that time, the idea of writing a script emerged, later shaped by painful personal events. His mother and grandfather remained in the occupied territories. His mother eventually evacuated, but tragic news about a humanitarian convoy shot near Zaporizhzhia made Zemlianyi ask himself: what if his mother had left later? His grandfather, who never left the occupation, soon died. The director could not even say goodbye. The film is dedicated to him.

This personal foundation makes the film profoundly sincere. The audience feels that what is on screen is not fiction, not merely a “social issue,” but reality filtered through lived experience. For this reason, Inaccessible resonates more deeply than an ordinary drama: it is also an act of memory, a way to preserve personal grief in cinematic form.

Natural Acting

Interestingly, the lead role is played not by a professional actor. Zemlianyi invited his acquaintance, cinematography student Vladyslav Makariuk, who had never dreamed of acting. Initially, this was only a necessity for a teaser to present the idea at a pitching session. But it turned out that his ease in front of the camera and his own wartime experience in Ukraine gave the story unique authenticity. Producers hesitated, but the director insisted — and was right.

It is precisely this “non-professionalism” that makes the character more relatable: he doesn’t perform, he simply exists within the frame. His silence, awkward pauses, even slight “flaws” in intonation work better than polished acting technique. The viewer never doubts: this is a real person who could be your neighbor or friend.

A Hero Without Pathos

Zemlianyi deliberately avoids pathos. His protagonist is not depicted as an idealized image of self-sacrifice. On the contrary, he has contradictions: he helps but also steals a little. This does not diminish him but makes him more complex. The director recalls Robert Bresson’s Pickpocket: there, the criminal evokes sympathy because his actions stem from inner conflict. The same happens in Inaccessible. We may judge the hero’s actions, yet we empathize with him, understanding that despair and fear for his mother drive him.

This approach contrasts with traditional depictions of war, where heroization or demonization usually prevail. Zemlianyi shows a person who does everything possible, sometimes errs, but remains alive and real.

An Atmosphere of Uncertainty

The ending deserves special attention. Instead of the usual “all is well” or “all ends tragically,” the director opts for openness. The protagonist hears a lullaby sung by his mother. For some, this will symbolize hope; for others, only a painful dream. Zemlianyi himself says he wanted to preserve an atmosphere of uncertainty, a melancholic half-dream. After all, in the reality of war, endings are never unambiguous.

The use of a folk lullaby, performed a cappella by an actress, adds a special poetic quality to the film. It is both the sound of memory, the soothing of pain, and a reminder of childhood that remains outside the war — yet cannot be brought back.

A New Step for Ukrainian Cinema

Inaccessible is significant not only as the director’s debut. It is also one of the first attempts in contemporary Ukrainian cinema to directly address life under occupation. Previously, this theme appeared only tangentially or metaphorically. Zemlianyi makes it central, frank, and personal.

The film shows that short form can speak about the most difficult things without loud words or large-scale battle scenes. Its strength lies in the focus on a person trapped in silence, in the attempt to convey a fragile inner state. This cinema does not shout but listens — and that is precisely why it sounds so powerful.

,,Inaccessible” is a film that compels you to fall silent and listen. It does not provide ready answers, nor does it offer catharsis, but it opens space for empathy and reflection. For Kyrylo Zemlianyi, it is a highly successful debut: sincere, emotionally precise, and deeply personal. And for Ukrainian cinema — further proof that even within the short form, one can create a story that touches the deepest strings of the soul.