Atlantis

Naturally the film has emerged as one to watch during the present-day turbulence; such timeliness is eclipsed only by its visual splendor, further reflecting the ability of art to transmit by way of form in addition to content.

Instead of being numbingly dreary and depressing, given the economically depressed, horrifically polluted and landmine-strewn region, Atlantis is strangely upbeat, oddly hopeful even.

Tonally, there are shades of Werner Herzog. But Vasyanovych's tone is distinct; not to mention timely. The crisis he depicts can be as dull as it is dramatic, making Atlantis an eerily topical watch.

Atlantis isn't an easy film to watch, and it's not meant to be. It's an anti-war film without solutions, but what it clear is that Vasyanovych believes in humanity rebuilding from tragedy.

It is viscerally bleak and very slow. I can't say that I enjoyed it, but I really admire the artistry behind it and I admire the intent.

What eventually emerges is a devastating look at this country that has won a war, but lost so much of what they were fighting for.

Atlantis works as a cautionary tale. Its haunting camera work offers too many scenes that invite reflection on the consequences of war and the way that its desolation cannot be avoided.

It was nice to see an unrepentantly arty, tableau-based fest film that reminded me why the sub-genre was important in the first place.

Oblique, unaggressively bold, and deeply hopeful. Vasyanovych's unique directorial and cinematographic vision does not undersell destruction on personal, national, or environmental levels, but its thesis insists on humanity's self-redemption.

Atlantis is a rough film to sit through, but those who really pay attention to its existentialist musings will be rewarded.