The Unseen Battle: When War Becomes a Lifetime Companion
There’s something profoundly haunting about the way war lingers—not just in the scars on the land, but in the souls of those who live through it. Personally, I think this is where Yuliia Hontaruk’s To Die to Live truly distinguishes itself from the flood of documentaries about Ukraine’s struggle. While most films focus on the immediate chaos of conflict, Hontaruk takes a step back, almost like a quiet observer, to ask: What happens when the fighting stops, but the war never really leaves you?
What makes this particularly fascinating is the film’s 12-year span, a timeframe that feels both epic and intimate. It’s not just about the Russo-Ukrainian conflict; it’s about the human condition when war becomes a chronic condition rather than an acute event. Following three volunteers—Shakhta, Dancer, and Potter—Hontaruk doesn’t just show us their battles on the frontlines; she invites us into their lives as they try to reassemble the pieces of their identities in a world that no longer feels familiar.
The Illusion of Returning Home
One thing that immediately stands out is the myth of ‘returning to normalcy.’ These volunteers didn’t just leave the war behind in 2014; they carried it with them like an invisible shadow. From my perspective, this is where the film’s genius lies. It doesn’t romanticize the idea of coming home. Instead, it exposes the brutal truth: for many, home becomes a battlefield of its own.
What many people don’t realize is how deeply war rewires the psyche. The trauma isn’t just in the memories of combat; it’s in the way everyday life feels alienating. A simple trip to the grocery store, a family dinner, or even a quiet moment alone—all become reminders of what’s been lost. Hontaruk’s lens captures this dissonance beautifully, forcing us to confront the question: Can you ever truly leave the war behind?
2022: When the Past Becomes the Present
The Russian invasion of 2022 serves as a brutal plot twist in the lives of these volunteers. It’s not just a continuation of the war; it’s a confrontation with their own unresolved traumas. If you take a step back and think about it, this is where the film’s title To Die to Live becomes achingly poignant. These men are forced to die to their civilian selves once again, to embrace a life they thought they’d left behind.
This raises a deeper question: Is war ever truly over for those who’ve lived it? The film suggests that the answer is a resounding no. War isn’t just a period in history; it’s a perpetual state of being for those it touches. And yet, what this really suggests is that even in the face of unrelenting darkness, the human spirit finds ways to persist.
A Film About Transformation, Not Just Trauma
A detail that I find especially interesting is Hontaruk’s own evolution as a filmmaker. She admits she thought she was making a film about war, only to realize it was about something far more profound: transformation. This isn’t just a story of survival; it’s a story of how people rebuild themselves, piece by piece, in the shadow of devastation.
In my opinion, this is where the film transcends its subject matter. It’s not just about Ukraine or Russia; it’s about the universal struggle to find meaning in the aftermath of chaos. It’s about the stubbornness of life, the way it insists on continuing even when everything around it seems to be falling apart.
The Broader Implications: War as a Global Mirror
If we zoom out, To Die to Live becomes more than a documentary—it’s a mirror held up to the world. War isn’t just a geopolitical event; it’s a human one. From Syria to Sudan, from Afghanistan to Yemen, the stories of Shakhta, Dancer, and Potter echo the experiences of millions. What this film does so brilliantly is humanize the abstract concept of war, reminding us that behind every statistic is a life forever altered.
Personally, I think this is why the film feels so urgent. It’s not just a historical document; it’s a call to empathy. It forces us to ask: How do we support those who carry the weight of war long after the guns fall silent? How do we ensure that their stories aren’t forgotten?
Final Thoughts: The Power of Life-Affirming Cinema
Hontaruk describes her film as ‘life-affirming,’ and I couldn’t agree more. Despite its heavy subject matter, To Die to Live is ultimately a testament to resilience. It’s a reminder that even in the darkest moments, life finds a way to assert itself.
What makes this film truly remarkable, though, is its ability to balance the brutal with the beautiful. It doesn’t shy away from the pain, but it also doesn’t let the pain define its subjects. Instead, it shows us the complexity of the human experience—the way we can be broken and whole, devastated and hopeful, all at once.
If you take one thing away from this film, let it be this: War doesn’t end when the fighting stops. But neither does the human capacity to endure, to heal, and to live. And that, in my opinion, is the most powerful message of all.
