The Art of Resistance: How ‘Times New Roman’ Captures Ukraine’s Soul in Crisis
There’s something profoundly moving about art born from chaos. When I first heard about Philip Sotnychenko’s upcoming film Times New Roman, what struck me wasn’t just its ambitious premise but the sheer audacity of creating something so deeply personal and politically charged in the midst of war. Personally, I think this project is more than a film—it’s a testament to the resilience of the human spirit and the unyielding power of storytelling.
A Midlife Crisis Meets Historical Trauma
At its core, Times New Roman follows Roman, a Kyiv-based artist grappling with addiction and existential dread in the shadow of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine. What makes this particularly fascinating is how Sotnychenko intertwines Roman’s personal struggles with a broader historical narrative. The film isn’t just about one man’s crisis; it’s a mirror reflecting Ukraine’s collective trauma.
One thing that immediately stands out is the film’s unique approach to performance art. Roman is tasked with reenacting the assassinations of three Ukrainian independence leaders—Symon Petlura, Yevhen Konovalets, and Stepan Bandera—all of whom were killed by Soviet agents in Europe. This isn’t just a creative device; it’s a bold statement about Russia’s long history of meddling in Ukrainian affairs. If you take a step back and think about it, this film is essentially using art as a weapon—a way to remind the world of Ukraine’s enduring fight for sovereignty.
The Director’s Vision: Personal and Political
Sotnychenko’s words in his director’s statement are hauntingly resonant: ‘Times New Roman’ is a reflection on contemporary Ukraine, seen through the eyes of an artist in inner conflict. What this really suggests is that the film isn’t just a political statement but a deeply human one. It’s about the choices we make when our world is falling apart—stay or leave, act or feel, resist or surrender.
From my perspective, this duality is what makes the film so compelling. Sotnychenko isn’t just telling a story; he’s inviting us to confront our own complicity or indifference. What many people don’t realize is that art created during times of crisis often carries a weight that transcends its medium. It becomes a historical document, a cry for help, and a call to action all at once.
The Challenges of Creating Art in War
Producing a film like this in wartime Ukraine is no small feat. Producer Sashko Chubko’s words about the mental, physical, and financial challenges are a stark reminder of the sacrifices required to keep art alive in such conditions. What’s truly remarkable, though, is how the Ukrainian film industry continues to thrive despite the odds.
The involvement of Academy Award-winning producer Matiss Kaza and his Trickster Pictures is a game-changer. Personally, I think this collaboration signals a broader trend of international solidarity with Ukrainian artists. It’s not just about funding; it’s about amplifying voices that might otherwise be silenced.
History Repeating Itself—But Will We Listen?
The film’s focus on historical assassinations is both chilling and timely. By reenacting these events, Sotnychenko forces us to confront the cyclical nature of Russia’s aggression. What this really suggests is that history isn’t just a series of events—it’s a pattern, and one that continues to shape Ukraine’s present.
A detail that I find especially interesting is how the film avoids directly depicting the war. Instead, it explores its intellectual and emotional aftermath. This raises a deeper question: Do we need to see violence to understand its impact? Sotnychenko seems to argue that the psychological scars are just as devastating—and perhaps more revealing.
The Future of Ukrainian Cinema
Times New Roman is more than a film; it’s a beacon of hope for Ukrainian cinema. With the Ukrainian State Film Agency set to announce its first funding call since the invasion, projects like this could pave the way for a new wave of storytelling. In my opinion, this isn’t just about cultural preservation—it’s about redefining what it means to be Ukrainian in the 21st century.
As I reflect on this project, I’m reminded of the power of art to challenge, provoke, and heal. Times New Roman isn’t just a film about war; it’s a film about survival, identity, and the unyielding human desire to create meaning from chaos. If there’s one thing this film proves, it’s that even in the darkest times, art can light the way forward.
Final Thought:
As we await the film’s release, I can’t help but wonder: Will Times New Roman be remembered as a masterpiece of resistance, or as a tragic reminder of what we failed to prevent? Only time will tell. But one thing is certain—this film will leave an indelible mark on anyone who watches it.
