Russia’s invasion of Ukraine is well on its way to becoming the most thoroughly documented modern conflict, which, predictably, can be a bit tricky. No one can question the importance and urgency of the numerous documentaries flooding the festival circuit right now, but once you get used to a certain kind of imagery, it just tends to pack less of a punch. Especially – which is horrifying to realise – if one is not directly affected by what’s shown on the screen. Yet.

The challenge, mostly for local filmmakers, seems to revolve around a new question these days. Instead of showing what’s happening to them and getting it out as soon as they can, they also need to think about how to show it. They need to ponder how to stand out, because there is already so much upsetting footage available everywhere. It sounds cynical, but it also leads to interesting choices and films. Alina Maksimenko’s In Limbo is one of them.

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Maksimenko’s doc – set to be shown imminently at Poland’s Millennium Docs Against Gravity following its recent Visions du Réel premiere – is not about fighting; it’s about waiting. The kind of waiting that drains you because anticipating the violence can be as destructive as the violence itself. But there is really nowhere to go, and the director and her elderly parents have to stay in their increasingly empty village near Kyiv. They are tired and afraid of change; she can’t walk very fast, limping on her crutches after surgery. And so, they try to pretend they can still live normally, but they are not really living. They are stuck, hanging around in some kind of weird purgatory.

Stories about families jammed into one house always go badly, but these three are even more isolated. There is no one around, people are leaving, and everyday conversations turn into bitter fights all too quickly. But they still try. Her mother is a music teacher, now listening to her young student on her phone. Her dad is feeding the animals, suddenly abandoned by their fleeing owners. It really rings true that everyone finally loses it here over a sick cat. It recalls that heart-wrenching beginning of another Ukrainian-centred film, Maciek Hamela’s In the Rearview [+leggi anche:
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scheda film], where people put on a brave face until they start talking about their beloved cow, now left behind, and immediately break down.

Maksimenko is very honest here. She shows that people can be afraid of so many different things – “How do we tell ‘us’ and ‘them’ apart?!” complains her Russian-speaking mother – but she is also not sparing herself as a filmmaker, sometimes guilty of “choosing the prettiest takes”. “Pretty takes don’t match this situation, do they?” her father notices rather bluntly, but it’s an important conversation to have, also when it comes to war photography. Do you want to see the truth, or do you want art? Can you have your cake and eat it?

Maybe you can, because you can absent-mindedly scroll through news in the morning and browse through familiar photos, but you will remember this conflicted family, slowly noticing that the sounds of war they tried to ignore are getting closer. And you will remember their cats.

In Limbo was produced by Poland’s Wajda Studio, with Katarzyna Madaj-Kozłowska serving as executive producer.