“Militantropos”

Taking its title from a term meaning “a persona accepted by humans entering a state of war,” “Militantropos” is a stark and deeply affecting observational documentary about the war in Ukraine. The title alone hints at the film’s core concern: how war doesn’t just destroy cities, homes, and bodies, but how it completely reshapes identities.

Directed with a quiet, unflinching eye by Alina Gorlova, Simon Mozgovyi, and Yelizaveta Smit, the documentary is a haunting and sometimes harrowing, meditation on what happens when the extraordinary violence of war becomes the ordinary backdrop of daily life. There are images in this film that will stick with me forever.

Set against the ongoing Russian invasion of Ukraine, the film eschews traditional narration and exposition and instead, pieces together fragmented portraits of those affected. These are normal folks like you and me who are caught in the slow-motion implosion of their former lives. We see refugees, soldiers, civilians, mothers, brothers, and children deal with the effects of their homeland being at war. Through moments both mundane and devastating, the documentary captures the surreal juxtaposition of normalcy and horror: a mother dutifully hanging laundry beside a bombed-out building, a child playing with a toy tank as distant shelling rattles the ground, a soldier feeding starving stray dogs between battles. One thing is for certain: all of this is absolutely heartbreaking.

The film’s strength lies in its restraint. There is no voice over to guide emotion, no manipulation of the soundtrack to cue sympathy. The directors trust the raw power of the imagery to convey their story, and it’s devastatingly effective. The visuals are often difficult to watch, so take heed. This film will hit you hard, and I found some scenes extremely hard to handle, especially the shots of a collapsed apartment block with toys and family photos still visible in the rubble, and the numbed face of a man recounting the loss of his wife without shedding a tear. The loss that the people of Ukraine are experiencing is unimaginable and tragic. But among the destruction are piercing glimpses of resilience and hope, like an impromptu wedding in a shelter, a woman rebuilding her beloved garden, and a group of teenagers finding comfort in each other by dancing in a half-destroyed school gym.

What emerges is not a conventional war story, but a deeply human one. This film doesn’t focus on geopolitics or battlefronts, but focuses on what war does to people, showing how war alters behavior and rewires human emotion. Over time the chaos becomes routine, and what once was unimaginable becomes part of daily existence. It’s disturbing how people are shaped by their will to resist, adapt, and merely survive.

And that’s how the film manages to also be inspiring. It’s a testament to the profound adaptability of the human spirit, even in the face of obliteration. The need for connection, for meaning, for life beyond mere survival never disappears: it simply evolves under pressure.

“Militantropos” is not easy viewing, nor is it meant to be. This absolute stunner of a documentary is disturbing, intimate, and unforgettable. This is war not as spectacle, but as slow, brutal absorption into the everyday.

By: Louisa Moore