Meditative, Haunting, and Quietly Defiant

Read Time:5 Minute, 4 Second

MOVIE REVIEW
Divia
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Genre: Documentary
Year Released: 2025
Runtime: 1h 19m
Director(s): Dmytro Hreshko
Where to Watch: shown at the 2025 Karlovy Vary International Film Festival

RAVING REVIEW: There’s a unique bravery in silence, particularly in a time when shouting seems to dominate every corner of modern discourse. DIVIA, directed by Dmytro Hreshko, doesn’t whisper so much as it allows the earth itself to breathe. It offers no commentary, no narration, no voice guiding you through its 79-minute meditation. Instead, it trusts the viewer to witness, absorb, and feel the unspoken weight of what war leaves behind—and what may slowly grow in its aftermath.

Shot across Ukraine over two years, DIVIA drifts through a war-torn nation like a watchful spirit, capturing the natural and unnatural scars that violence leaves on the land. Cratered fields, charred trees, and the rusting remains of military vehicles populate the landscape. These aren’t backdrops—they are the story. Hreshko positions the camera not as an observer of human drama, but as a mourner documenting sacred ground that has been desecrated.

Where many war documentaries focus on geopolitical narratives or human testimonies, DIVIA takes a more metaphysical path. It isn’t about military strategy or personal accounts. It’s about the very soul of a country as reflected through its terrain. The title—drawn from an ancient Slavic goddess of nature—feels like a perfect fit. DIVIA becomes not just a film but a ritual, one that mourns and honors simultaneously.

And yet, there is life in these frames. It might take a few moments for the viewer to recognize the subtle human presence within the quiet landscapes. Deminers comb through fields with an unsubtle grace. Environmentalists and animal rescuers seem like part of the scenery—gentle interventions in a land struggling to heal. Their presence never dominates, never demands attention, but rather serves as an affirmation that not all has been lost. They are not dramatized; they simply are—a powerful statement in itself.

What helps bridge that distance is the extraordinary sound design and score. Crafted by sound studio 4Ears Sound Production and shaped with the unobtrusive compositions of Sam Slater, the film’s audio track is immersive without being overbearing. Slater’s music doesn’t use traditional instruments, and the resulting textures feel alien, almost unplaceable—like echoes of a world disrupted. His compositions aren’t melodic in the conventional sense; they are more like vibrations of grief and glimmers of rebirth. Wind rushes across open plains. Birds call from forests that are barely standing. Even the low thrum of distant explosions or the hum of machinery becomes part of an ambient ensemble. Sound becomes not just a companion to the image but a character in its own right, narrating without words.

Visually, Hreshko and his team utilize a combination of ground-level photography and sweeping drone footage. The latter gives the film a near-divine perspective, while the former roots it in harsh, tactile reality. The camera lingers long enough for the viewer to absorb the scale of devastation, but not so long that it becomes gratuitous. The tone is one of reverence, both for the environment and for the people working to restore it.

Despite the heaviness of its subject, DIVIA isn’t hopeless. Grass grows again through bombed soil. Trees continue to sway. Animals return. The regeneration is slow and incomplete, but undeniably present. By the time the credits roll, it’s hard not to feel that witnessing this cycle of destruction and resilience is its quiet form of resistance. Nature will reclaim itself.

There’s also a deeper political resonance that hums just beneath the surface. Without being explicit, the film lays bare the environmental toll of war, turning landscapes into evidence. It doesn’t point fingers, but its gaze is unflinching. In the silence, there is accountability. In the stillness, a protest. DIVIA is not an easy film, nor does it try to be. It’s contemplative, and at times, it demands patience. But for those willing to sit with it—to truly listen to its silence—it offers a rare experience. It’s less about watching and more about being present.

That said, the film’s immersive aesthetic and philosophical weight may limit its appeal to a broader audience. Viewers seeking narrative clarity or human-centered storytelling may find themselves disconnected. But that seems almost intentional. Hreshko isn’t trying to tell you what to think. He’s asking you to look, to listen, and to feel—to bear witness. A stirring visual requiem for a wounded land that challenges viewers to consider the cost of war beyond headlines. DIVIA doesn’t just document—it memorializes. And through its silence, it roars.

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[photo courtesy of GOGOL FILM, UP UA STUDIO, VALK PRODUCTIONS]

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