MY HOME

A lot gets ground up between the millstones of historical change. Often it’s exactly those little tragic or absurd stories on the wayside of history that make it possible to grasp the monstrosity of periods of time. Such is the case with Natalya: her very own “Gallic village” is a little piece of land in a suburb of Kiev, where her family has resided for generations. Where there used to be meadows, trees and a nice landscape, gigantic apartment high-rises now reach up into the sky, encroaching closer and closer on the borders of the tiny homestead. Bulldozers, arsonists, a trial and malicious reporting threaten their unusual and endearing little community of misfits, failed existences and diverse animals, which is held together by Natalya’s iron will and unshakeable faith alone. MY HOME finds strong images to depict a way of life which spills out across a country, fed by material greed and a vague desire for calm and order, a world of fake backdrops, in which every individual is absorbed in self-interest. It seems fitting that the film ends with the beginning of the Euromaidan, which Natalya anticipates with her struggle: a revolution for dignity.