“I wanted to create space for the viewer to think about what is happening and about what they would have done in this situation”
– The writer-director mulls creative collaborations and finding the appropriate distance from which to reflect on the war in Ukraine – through a sharp Lithuanian lens
Marija and Vytas are headed for an uncomfortable separation in Lithuanian director Andrius Blaževičius’s third feature, How to Divorce During the War [+see also:
film review
interview: Andrius Blaževičius
film profile]. The film stars two of the most memorable actors in Lithuanian independent cinema today, Žygimantė Elena Jakštaitė and Marius Repšys, and has just enjoyed its world premiere in the World Cinema Dramatic Competition of the Sundance Film Festival.
Blaževičius’s second feature, Runner [+see also:
film review
trailer
interview: Andrius Blaževičius
film profile] (2021), also became the breakout film for Jakštaitė (who was last seen in Gabrielė Urbonaitė’s Renovation [+see also:
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interview: Gabrielė Urbonaitė
film profile]), while Blaževičius’s longtime collaborator Repšys recently played the leading role in Jurgis Matulevičius’s China Sea [+see also:
film review
film profile]. In How to Divorce During the War, the pair battle personal, interpersonal and social pressures during the first few months of Russia’s war in Ukraine.
Cineuropa: Given the film’s setting right when the war in Ukraine starts, when did you begin writing the script? Did it evolve at all as you went along?
Andrius Blaževičius: I actually started writing it quite early when the war started – around March 2022 – but the whole story stayed the same. Somehow, I seemed to have predicted how people would feel. It’s a very human thing to get tired from the war and from information about it. I always begin with a script, and then later on, I start to think about how we should shoot it and what the style should be. I didn’t want to have this style of shot-reverse shot, even though we tried it. I realised from the beginning this wouldn’t work for the story.
You rely instead on wide shots – and, often, a still frame. The scene in the car, when Marija tells Vytas she wants a divorce, is so long – and then that scene proceeds with a slow zoom. It feels like there is a strong theatrical influence.
The idea was very simple: I didn’t want to make it extremely melodramatic. The script already had the potential to be very melodramatic with that divorce scene and later ones. What was important for me regarding the style was to keep a distance from which to observe these characters. When you’re deep into a story, you are already on this emotional rollercoaster. I wanted to create this place for the viewer to think more about what is happening and about what they would have done in this situation. For Lithuanians, there are things we need to consider when we are thinking about what’s happening in Ukraine – we live very comfortably when there’s a war.
You worked with Žygimantė Elena Jakštaitė and Marius Repšys together in Runner, along with Marius on several other projects. How do you characterise your collaborations with them?
I really like to work not just with the same actors, but with the same people in general. I feel safe with them. I’ve worked with Marius starting from film school, and he’s been in almost every film I’ve made, as the lead or in a supporting role. When I’ve known a person for such a long time, they understand me – I want to say from half a word, but he can probably understand me even from a single look.
With Žygimantė, it was different because she was the lead in Runner and was in almost every scene. For her, it was unusual to need to share the leading role with another actor. She wasn’t used to that distance from the camera. Since Runner, she has had two more leading roles – but in those films, the camera was also quite close to her. For her, here, it was like, “What’s happening? The camera is far away – can they see me? How should I act?”
We see Vytas’s parents tacitly supporting Russia, but we also have Marija and Vytas who feel pressured to be performative, literally and metaphorically, in how they speak out against the war. Are these archetypes drawn from things you’ve witnessed?
With the parents, for example, I still see this in Lithuania. What is good is that it’s a very small group of people – maybe not all of them support Russia, but they say that the truth is in between or that the war is not right, but we shouldn’t give our money to Ukraine. These characters represent maybe 10% of society in Lithuania, but I think it’s the same in other countries. [At the start], there were many people shouting their support for Ukraine, but at the same time, you could see companies with billboards saying they support Ukraine. They were basically making advertisements using the war. There were people who built careers from that or used the war to benefit their own brand. It’s hard for me to understand – is it a sincere wish to help, or are you using it for your own purposes?
We’re living in this really strange atmosphere. Especially during the first year of the war, there were many campaigns to get you to donate money. It sounds stupid now, but at the time, let’s say I wanted to buy trousers. Then, it was like, “Okay, should I buy trousers or should I donate?” It’s nonsense. The media does something to your brain and makes you feel guilty. We are now always in this kind of mood for war, where we’re preparing to be attacked.
