Serhii Storozhev moves with equal ease between documentary and narrative filmmaking. His latest documentary, Steel Birds, chronicles the daring airborne operation to break the siege of Azovstal. At the end of August, he will premiere his new feature film, The Soloist, while also working on another documentary, Entangled.

In an interview with Ukrinform, the director and screenwriter spoke about why great war films require historical distance, why Ukrainian cinema must preserve its national identity while remaining accessible to international audiences, and how an ordinary fishing net can become the central subject of a documentary.

"I WAS BORN AND RAISED IN MARIUPOL, SO STEEL BIRDS IS A DEEPLY PERSONAL STORY"

Ukrinform (UI): Mr. Storozhev, your documentary Steel Birds, about the daring helicopter operation to break the siege of Azovstal, has just been released. How did the project come about?

Serhii Storozhev  (SS):  First and foremost, this is a deeply personal story. I was born and raised in Mariupol. In March 2022, many of my relatives and friends were still there. I experienced those events more intensely than perhaps anything else in my life. There was no communication with the city, so I was constantly searching for even the smallest fragment of information.

When the news emerged that our helicopters had broken through the blockade—that the crews had delivered volunteers, medical supplies, and reinforcements to the besieged city and evacuated the wounded—it felt like a breath of fresh air. That was the moment the idea for this documentary began to take shape.

We started collecting material piece by piece, hoping that one day it could become a film. It was a long process because, in reality, almost no footage existed. Initially, all the footage we had came from the mobile phones and body cameras of the soldiers and helicopter crews who carried out those missions. Later, after we arranged for cameras to be installed aboard the aircraft, we received additional footage.

For a long time, Steel Birds was the work of just three people: myself and producers Artem Koliubaiev and Taras Bosak. We produced a presentation trailer to secure funding. Some time later, the Ministry of Culture of Ukraine agreed to support the project, giving us the green light to turn it into a full-length documentary.

"THE DEFENCE INTELLIGENCE OF UKRAINE PLAYED A KEY ROLE IN THE MAKING OF STEEL BIRDS, SERVING AS OUR MENTOR"

UI: Did you encounter any particular challenges while making the film?

SS: Absolutely. There were many challenges. The biggest involved the servicemen featured in the documentary. We wanted audiences to see the faces of everyone involved, but most of them were still carrying out combat missions, so appearing on camera posed a genuine security risk.

For understandable reasons, it was also difficult to arrange an interview with Kyrylo Budanov, the head of the Defense Intelligence of Ukraine (HUR), as he was one of the key figures involved in planning the operation.

Overall, the Defense Intelligence of Ukraine played an indispensable role in the making of Steel Birds, serving as both our mentor and our guide throughout the project. HUR officers responded to our requests, helped us obtain source material, and facilitated our communication with the servicemen we interviewed. Their support was instrumental in making this film possible.

Sadly, not all of the film's protagonists are still with us. In the closing sequence, we display a memorial board bearing the names of those who did not return from the operation. The film is dedicated to their memory.

In my opinion, Steel Birds is one of the most significant Ukrainian documentaries made during the war.

UI: Will Steel Birds have a festival run?

SS: Since the project was supported—and effectively financed—by the Ministry of Culture of Ukraine, it is intended for non-commercial distribution. We held a private premiere screening in Kyiv for the servicemen who took part in the operation and their families, and the turnout was remarkable.

The film has also been released on social media, broadcast on Ukrainian television, and is now freely available on YouTube.

"WE ARE NOT YET READY TO MAKE DETACHED FEATURE FILMS ABOUT THE WAR BECAUSE WE ARE STILL LIVING THROUGH IT"

UI: You were making films both before the full-scale invasion and now. Has the war changed the way you work?

SS: The war has forced us to confront questions that, unfortunately, many of us either avoided before the invasion or tried to answer through compromise. The language issue is perhaps the most obvious example, but there are many others.

I believe documentary filmmaking is especially important today because of its value as a historical record. A documentary is, above all, a document—it allows us to preserve what is happening now so that, years from today, no one will be able to rewrite the truth.

As for feature films, I don't think we are yet capable of making emotionally detached films about this war because we are still living through it. We are experiencing these events firsthand and on a deeply personal level. When your judgment is shaped by emotion, complete objectivity is impossible. Great cinema requires critical distance and reflection.

That is why I believe it will take many years before we can make truly great war films comparable to Saving Private Ryan. There are many outstanding films about war, but almost all of them were made only after enough time had passed for their creators to reflect on those events.

Documentaries are different. We see war as a condition of life, just as peace is—only its opposite. Within that reality, people continue to live, and stories continue to unfold. A documentary is not really about an offensive or a defensive operation; it is about people, their lives, and their emotions in wartime. That is exactly what all of our films are about.

UI: Have you ever considered making a feature film about the events at Azovstal?

SS: Our producers are already exploring that possibility. Discussions are underway, and I hope that, in time, we will be able to make it happen.

Today, the Defense Intelligence of Ukraine, Army Aviation, and our servicemen have become symbols recognized around the world. Their story has the potential to become not merely a Ukrainian story, but a global one. We have the opportunity to tell it here and now because we possess the firsthand knowledge and experience. We have seen far more than anyone observing from abroad, and we are uniquely positioned to tell the world what really happened.

"THE KEY TO A FILM'S SUCCESS IS PRESERVING ITS IDENTITY WHILE MAKING IT UNIVERSALLY UNDERSTANDABLE"

UI: That raises an interesting question about local cinema. Should filmmakers focus primarily on domestic audiences, or should they aim to reach international viewers?

SS: It depends entirely on the goal. If we're talking about films like those produced by Marvel, then the objective is obviously to reach the largest possible audience and maximize box-office returns.

But if we think of cinema as an art form, then there is something far more valuable in a story rooted in a specific place and culture. The challenge is to tell that local story in a way that resonates universally. That is what makes a truly great film.

We recently discussed Martin McDonagh's The Banshees of Inisherin and concluded that its extraordinary success stems from precisely that quality. It is an unmistakably Irish story, yet audiences everywhere understand it.

The same is true of the Ukrainian film Pamfir. Director Dmytro Sukholytkyy-Sobchuk took distinctly Ukrainian traditions, events, and symbols and made them meaningful to viewers across the world. That is incredibly difficult to achieve, but it is precisely what defines a successful film: preserving its identity while making it universally accessible.

Personally, I aspire to make films with multiple layers of meaning—works that speak both to general audiences and to fellow filmmakers and critics.

UI: Your first wartime documentaries, Mothers of War and Sisters, were released during the first year of the full-scale invasion, in 2022, weren't they?

SS: Yes. I'm grateful to producer Yuliia Bin for giving me the opportunity to help tell those stories.

Mothers of War follows mothers who lost their children. They shared their experiences in the hope of helping others endure a similar loss—or at least learn how to live with it.

Sisters tells a different kind of story. It follows twin sisters who fulfill the wishes of the relatives of fallen soldiers. Someone living under occupation, for example, may want to visit a loved one's grave or leave flowers or personal mementos there but be unable to do so. The sisters carry out these requests on their behalf and record the visits on video.

One family asked them to sing a fallen soldier's favorite song at his grave. They did exactly that.

"IN MY VIEW, A DOCUMENTARY IS TRULY CREATED IN THE EDITING ROOM"

UI: You described documentary filmmaking as documenting what is happening here and now. I'd like to broaden the discussion beyond wartime and ask a somewhat controversial question about documentaries in general. If there is a director, a screenwriter—in other words, someone who has already conceived and structured the story—and the protagonists are fully aware they are being filmed (after all, none of us behaves quite the same in front of a camera), then to what extent is what the audience sees on screen truly non-fiction?

SS: In our experience, what we imagine at the outset of a documentary project is rarely what the finished film ultimately becomes.

As a director, my role is to gather as much material as possible and make sure no important nuance or detail is overlooked. It is only in the editing room that we discover the story the footage is capable of telling. In that sense, directing a documentary is fundamentally different from directing a feature film, where the filmmaker exercises control over virtually every aspect of the production.

In documentary filmmaking, you have to allow the story to unfold on its own while making sure you've collected all the pieces of the puzzle. In my view, a documentary is truly created in the editing room.

It is equally important for the filmmaker to remain responsive to both circumstances and the people being filmed, even if the project begins with a well-defined plan. I spent many years working in television, and I can say with confidence that if you follow your original plan too rigidly, you rarely create anything truly exceptional.

UI: You often serve as both screenwriter and director on your films, including The Soloist, Steel Birds, Art in the Shadow of War, Dedicated to Eva, and For Rent. Is that simply how things have worked out, or is it a deliberate creative choice?

SS: It's entirely deliberate.

Even before the full-scale invasion, I directed television series for which I wasn't the screenwriter, but I always insisted on having the freedom to revise, adapt, or rewrite the scripts. When you're working with a locked script that can't be changed, you stop asking questions and stop exploring the material more deeply. At that point, much of the creative process loses its purpose.

It's also about responding to circumstances. You may begin with a clear plan, but life—or the universe, if you like—will inevitably present situations you never anticipated. Your job is to embrace them and turn them to your advantage. That's why I always try to be involved in the writing process as well as directing.

"KRZYSZTOF ZANUSSI GAVE ME THE IDEA FOR THE SOLOIST"

UI: You began developing your feature film The Soloist long before the full-scale invasion. Why did it take so long to reach the screen?

SS: It took nearly ten years to bring the project from its initial concept to the finished film.

The idea for The Soloist came from Krzysztof Zanussi. I was visiting him, and as we discussed possible ideas for a film, he told me an intriguing story about a repertory actor who, during periods when he had no stage work, earned money by posing as a patient in hospitals so that medical students could practice identifying the fake patient among the real ones.

That premise is based on an actual practice.

I began developing the story, set it aside several times, and then kept coming back to it. In 2021, The Soloist won the 17th State Film Agency pitching in the auteur film category, and we were preparing to begin production when Russia launched its full-scale invasion.

During the first year of the war, virtually all state funding was redirected to defense. About a year and a half later, however, the financing was finally restored, allowing us to begin production. We completed principal photography, finished post-production, and the film is now ready for release.

Its Ukrainian premiere will take place at the Odesa International Film Festival at the end of August. We are still deciding where to hold the international premiere.

UI: As I understand it, actor Oleksandr Yarema plays the "imaginary patient." Is that right?

SS: Yes. The two lead roles are played by Oleksandr Yarema and Iryna Mak. They, along with the rest of the cast, were extraordinary and gave themselves completely to the project.

What fascinates me is the contrast between Oleksandr's personality and the character he portrays. In real life, he is remarkably modest and reserved, yet he so vividly and convincingly transformed into Lev—an eccentric, somewhat abrasive actor. I'm always amazed by an actor's ability to inhabit someone so completely different from themselves, capturing every nuance of the character's personality and behavior so convincingly that the audience never questions it.

The film also contains numerous cinematic references. Some of the people who have already seen it said their first impression reminded them of One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest. But as the story unfolds, that comparison fades away. There may be certain thematic echoes, but ultimately it is a very different film.

We were fortunate to assemble an exceptional cast: Oleksandr Yarema, Iryna Mak, Serhii Denha, Maryna Koshkina, Viacheslav Hindin, Oleksii Trytenko, and Volodymyr Zadniprovskyi.

The creative team was equally remarkable. Artem Koliubaiev and Taras Bosak served as producers; Yevhenii Kyrei was the cinematographer; Vladlen Odudenko and Marichka Denysenko were the production designers; Mikael Torhomian edited the film; Olena Hres and Olena Rukavishnikova designed the costumes; Oleksandra Biesiedkina headed the makeup department; and many other talented professionals contributed. Every member of the team was deeply committed to bringing the film to life.

UI: I've noticed that you often work with the same creative team.

SS: I certainly try to.

It makes a tremendous difference when people understand each other almost instinctively. That kind of collaboration creates real synergy. Instead of spending time explaining every detail, everyone already understands the direction you're aiming for and can contribute ideas that respond to the specific needs of the moment.

"TO BREAK EVEN, A FILM HAS TO GROSS AT LEAST TWO AND A HALF TIMES ITS PRODUCTION BUDGET"

UI: It often seems that, in difficult times, audiences gravitate toward comedies. At the same time, Ukrainian filmmakers face a moral dilemma: is it appropriate to make entertainment films during a war? Where do you draw the line?

SS: I agree that people need positive emotions right now. We absolutely should continue making comedies—and different kinds of comedies—so that different audiences can find something that speaks to them. One way or another, the war has created a cultural vacuum, and it needs to be filled. We need films for every kind of viewer.

As for humor itself, everything depends on balance. There is a point at which comedy becomes shallow and intellectually empty, and over time that can contribute to the cultural degradation of society. The real challenge for filmmakers is developing an inner sense of where that line lies—what is vulgar, what is genuinely funny, and what is appropriate.

UI: Given the war, it is obvious that the government cannot support the film industry on the scale it once did. How realistic is it for filmmakers to secure private investment?

SS: It is realistic, and there are already successful examples. Even this year, several Ukrainian feature films financed entirely with private capital are being released in cinemas.

From a business standpoint, such investments can make sense if the subject matter is chosen wisely and the production budget is managed carefully. But there is also the reality of simple economics.

Ukraine currently has fewer than 200 operating cinemas, which places a natural ceiling on potential box-office revenue. To put it simply, if a film costs 100 million hryvnias to make and earns 100 million hryvnias at the box office, it has still lost money.

Roughly half of the box-office receipts remain with the cinemas, another 15 percent goes to the distributor, and only about one-third ultimately returns to the producer. That means a film must gross at least two and a half times its production budget simply to break even.

Given the limited number of cinemas, the number of available seats, and the country's current population, there is a practical limit to how much a domestic release can earn. That inevitably places constraints on the scale of projects that can be commercially viable.

Of course, some investors are motivated by more than immediate financial returns. They may see filmmaking as a way to establish themselves in the industry, demonstrate what they are capable of, build a reputation, and only later begin earning a return on their investment.

"IN ENTANGLED, WE TRACED THE JOURNEY OF A FISHING NET FROM THE OCEAN TO UKRAINIAN TRENCHES"

UI: What are you working on now?

SS: We have just completed post-production on another documentary, Entangled. Surprisingly, it's a film about fishing nets.

We traced the journey of an ordinary fishing net from the ocean to Ukrainian trenches, dugouts, and military positions, exploring how something so seemingly mundane can end up saving the lives of our servicemen.

The film is financed by Artem Koliubaiev and Oleh Krot through the Techiia Foundation, which supplies protective nets to various units of Ukraine's Defense Forces. It is, in fact, a good illustration of the kind of private investment in filmmaking we were discussing earlier.

We traveled abroad to gather material and spoke with fishermen. The film follows both the international volunteers who organize the collection and shipment of these nets and the Ukrainian soldiers who rely on them at the front.

UI: So, an ordinary fishing net that was once used to catch cod, instead of being discarded or recycled, is sent to Ukraine to help protect Ukrainian soldiers?

SS: Exactly.

When you look more closely, you realize there isn't just one kind of net. There are heavy-duty fishing nets, woven from rope as thick as a finger and used by large commercial fishing vessels. In some cases, these nets have protected dugouts even from Lancet loitering munitions. The drone strikes the net but fails to penetrate it.

There are also lightweight, nearly transparent nets that work in a completely different way. Because they are almost invisible to a drone's onboard camera, the drone flies into them, becomes entangled, and never reaches its target.

It's a surprisingly sophisticated system—and an exceptionally effective one.

We plan to submit Entangled to international film festivals in the hope of engaging international audiences and encouraging greater support for Ukraine. At its heart, the film carries a simple message: even something as humble as a discarded fishing net can help save lives and bring Ukraine one step closer to victory.

Liubov Baziv led this interview. Kyiv

Photos by Oleksandr Klymenko