When Mstyslav Chernov speaks about his work, he does so with the calm clarity of someone who does not observe war from a distance. The Ukrainian filmmaker, journalist, and writer became known worldwide through his Oscar-winning documentary 20 DAYS IN MARIUPOL. At FILM FESTIVAL COLOGNE, the 40-year-old presented his new work 2000 METERS TO ANDRIIVKA and received the Phoenix Award. For him, this honor is above all “an opportunity to reach a wider audience – for the film, for the work, and for the stories of the people I filmed.”
2000 METERS TO ANDRIIVKA takes place in a narrow strip of forest in eastern Ukraine, wedged between two minefields. A small unit fights its way forward over exactly 2,000 meters to liberate the village of Andriyivka. “It’s a very simple story,” Chernov says, “about a platoon tasked with liberating a small village.” This reduction, he explains, is what makes the film universal: “You see real people, their courage and their motivation. What you see becomes a symbol for everyone who fights for their home.”
The film serves as a counterpart to 20 DAYS IN MARIUPOL. While the earlier film documented the Russian siege of a Ukrainian city, this new one looks at the process of reclaiming territory: “It’s the same story, just told in the opposite direction,” Chernov explains. Filming took place in parallel with international festival appearances – a stark contrast he deliberately incorporated into the movie: “You show the film in Europe or the U.S., and a few hours later you’re back in the trenches, which feel like the First World War. I wanted to show this sense of distance, and also how small that distance actually is.”
Chernov speaks powerfully about the role of the camera: “The camera is weak and strong at the same time. It cannot stop a bullet.” But it can ensure that people are remembered: “I believe it is a shield for truth, a shield for memory. We cannot bring a dead person back. But we can make sure they are not forgotten.”
This belief is tied to his understanding of truth in an age of disinformation: “History is not what happened. History is what we remember.” From many individual testimonies grows a collective memory that must endure over the years: “It is a battle to ensure that truth survives longer than the sea of misinformation.”
His motivation, however, remains deeply personal. He rejects grand, sweeping statements: “It’s not about making the world a better place. I think of specific people – faces, names, a town, a neighborhood.” He is especially moved when relatives of the fallen express their gratitude: “After one screening, a woman told me: ‘Now I can show my grandson who his grandfather was.’ That is the real reason why I do this work.”
