Tetyana Shlikhar’s book, Parallel Realities in Russian and Ukrainian Contemporary Cinema (2025), is a critical and timely examination of how film representations of the past have shaped divergent national narratives in Russia and Ukraine. Situated within the fields of memory studies and post-Soviet cinema, Shlikhar explores the intersections of history, ideology, and mythmaking in the cinematic construction of collective identity. Published during a period of active conflict and geopolitical tension, the book offers both an analytical and moral framework for understanding how cinema has become a battleground for competing cultural memories.
Drawing on concepts from cultural memory theory and postcolonial critique, Shlikhar analyses historical films from the post-1991 era, highlighting the contrasting visions of the past and present conveyed by the cinemas of the two nations. Her concept of "parallel realities" illustrates how Russian and Ukrainian cinemas have developed along separate ideological paths, despite their shared Soviet heritage. The book argues that while Russian cinema has primarily worked to reinforce state-sponsored myths of unity and power, Ukrainian filmmakers have utilised cinema to reclaim suppressed histories and reimagine their nation's cultural identity.
Parallel Realities is organised in five chapters, tracing the changes of cinematic mythmaking in post-Soviet Russia and Ukraine, focusing primarily on historical films. The book's breadth is impressive, covering historical reconstructions, patriotic blockbusters, and independent works of resistance. The central thesis – that cinema serves as a crucial arena for “memory politics” – is explored through a close analysis of Russian and Ukrainian narratives that challenge each other's interpretations of history and legitimacy.
Furthermore, this book goes beyond just discussing films. The author provides valuable context by situating film production within its historical moment. She makes a concerted effort to explain events and facts surrounding the Ukrainian material, anticipating that her readers may not be familiar with them (Shlikhar 2025: XVI; 1, 2). While this contextualization enriches the text, it also leaves limited space for in-depth analysis of the discussed films.
In the introductory chapter, the author establishes a theoretical framework by connecting cinematography to mythmaking processes and the memory politics of states. The central argument posits that cinema is not merely a reflection of political ideology; rather, it is a medium through which societies, states, and nations negotiate their histories. Memory, in this context, is neither stable nor monolithic; it is constructed through representation and repetition. According to the study, Russian and Ukrainian cinemas represent “parallel realities” – distinct interpretive systems shaped by their differing approaches to the past. The author asserts that post-Soviet Russia and Ukraine have developed “competing memories” (Ibid.: XIII), explaining the different trajectories these countries have followed since the collapse of the USSR.
The Introduction also offers crucial historical insights into the Soviet film studio system, highlighting how its centralised structure influenced both Russian and Ukrainian filmmaking. It becomes apparent that Moscow's dominance in production and distribution established a dependency for the subordinate republican studios on the centre. This dynamic continued into the post-Soviet era. After 1991, the Ukrainian film industry faced underfunding and a lack of infrastructure, especially in contrast to Russia's state-supported film industry. These disparities contribute to the aesthetic and ideological divergences that shape the "parallel realities" of film production in the two countries, as the book's title suggests.
However, the author seems to underestimate the resilience of the Ukrainian film industry. It is important to note that, despite facing significant economic challenges, Ukrainian filmmakers made vital strides toward establishing a Ukrainian identity. The 1990s produced several captivating films for Ukrainian audiences, including Siomyi marshrut / The Seventh Route (Mykhailo Illienko, 1997, Ukraine) and Fuchzhou / Fuzhou (Mykhailo Illienko, 1994, Ukraine); Pryiatel’ nebizhchyka / The Friend of the Deceased (Viacheslav Kryshtofovych, 1997, Ukraine, France); Tsvitinnia kul’baby / The Blooming of the Dandelion (Oleksandr Ihnatusha, 1992, Ukraine). It is unfortunate that Shlikhar did not include these films in her analysis, as they would support her main argument regarding the complex hybrid postcolonial identity (XVII) and the call for recognition of one's own national agency and subjectivity.
The first two chapters – “Myths of Ancient Rus” and “The Contested Cossack Past” – examine how both Russian and Ukrainian filmmakers have reinterpreted the myths of origin associated with the medieval narratives of Kyivan or, in the Russian interpretation, Ancient Rus. These myths are central to contemporary identity politics. Among others, Shlikhar analyses Iurii Kulakov’s film Kniaz’ Vladimir / Prince Vladimir (2005, Russia) and Andrei Kravchuk’s Viking / The Viking (2016, Russia) to illustrate how the Russian state uses film as a tool of historical appropriation. She argues that these works promote the idea of a unified Ancient Rus centred in Moscow, thereby erasing Kyiv’s historical significance. In contrast, Ukrainian films such as Kniaz’ Volodymyr: mizh pam’iattiu i pokhvaloiu / Prince Volodymyr: Between Memory and Praise (Volodymyr Denysenko, 2022, Ukraine) and Storozhova zastava / The Stronghold (Yurii Kovalyov, 2017, Ukraine) emphasise the Kyivan legacy as the foundation of independent Ukrainian statehood.
Shlikhar’s exploration of byliny (epic tales) and their cinematic adaptations highlights the ideological function of myth. For instance, Russian productions like Poslednii bogatyr’ / The Last Warrior (Dmitrii D’iachenko, 2017, Russia) portray folk heroes as guardians of the empire, while Ukrainian cinema infuses similar mythic figures with the spirit of national resistance. Through these case studies, Shlikhar demonstrates how cinema transforms myth into political allegory: in Russia, it serves as a reaffirmation of historical continuity and power; in Ukraine, it expresses a reassertion of difference and the quest for emancipation. This section of the book is particularly valuable for its comparative clarity, as Shlikhar resists the temptation to view Ukrainian cinema merely as a reaction to Russian narratives.
Shlikhar's book is rich in historical references, facts, and context. Therefore, it is surprising that, when discussing film representations of the medieval period, the author does not mention Soviet children's films such as Sadko (Aleksandr Ptushko, 1953, Soviet Union) or the animated adaptations of byliny from the 1970s, including Vasilisa Mikulishna (Roman Davydov, 1975, Soviet Union), Il’ia Muromets (Ivan Aksenchuk, 1975, Soviet Union), and Dobrynya Nikitich (Vladimir Degtiarev, 1965, Soviet Union). Additionally, there was no mention of the epic films Aleksandr Nevskii (Sergei Eisenstein, 1938, Soviet Union) or Andrei Rublev (Andrei Tarkovskii, 1966, Soviet Union). These films illustrate how the heritage of Kyivan Rus was integrated into Russian memory politics during the Soviet era, with notable filmmakers like Eisenstein and Tarkovsky contributing to the incorporation of Kyivan Rus narratives into Russian political mythology.
Similarly, Ukrainian filmmakers claimed the Cossacks' heritage as an essential part of Ukrainian identity during the Soviet period. Films such as Kolliyivshchyna (Ivan Kavaleridze, 1933, Soviet Ukraine), Bohdan Khmelnytskyi (Ihor Savchenko, 1941, Soviet Ukraine), and Propala Hramota / Lost Letter (Borys Ivchenko, 1972, Soviet Ukraine) helped preserve the memory of the Cossacks during this time. Additionally, Iak Kozaky / The Cossacks' Adventures (Volodymyr Dakhno and Tadeush Pavlenko, 1973-1984, Soviet Ukraine), a series of popular animated short films about Cossacks, was well-loved by children and parents alike.
While the discussion of these films would require commentary on what content was ideologically permissible at the time of their production, including them in Shlikhar's narrative would have strengthened her assertion about the hybridity of Ukrainian identity by highlighting the factors that shaped its formation. The films in question showcase both Ukrainian national heroes and the struggle for Ukrainian identity. At the same time, they illustrate the determination of some Ukrainians to remain aligned with Russia and portray the class struggle as the main catalyst for the Cossack rebellion. It could be worthwhile to explore how much creative freedom, for instance, Ivan Kavaleridze had in Ukraine in 1933, given that he directed a film about the Ukrainian rebellion. This hybridity arose from the dual desire to produce a national cultural product while navigating survival under the Soviet regime, leading to a necessity to conceal one’s true intentions.
Chapters three and four, titled, respectively, “Memories of the Twentieth Century: Great Patriotic War or Second World War?” and “The Soviet Past: Trauma vs. Nostalgia,” transition from mythic history to the modern era, examining how both national cinemas contend with the Soviet past. Ukrainian filmmakers approach this history through the themes of trauma and testimony. Films that address the Holodomor and political repression, such as Holod-33 / Famine-33 (Oles’ Yanchuk, 1991, Ukraine) and Povodyr / The Guide (Oles’ Sanin, 2013, Ukraine), serve as acts of cinematic witnessing. Shlikhar emphasises that Ukrainian cinema's confrontation with the Soviet legacy is both historical and existential; it reclaims memory as an ethical duty rather than merely a tool for nostalgia. For example, she recognises Akhtem Seitablaiev's cinematographic efforts to reveal the truth about Soviet crimes against the Crimean Tatars in such movies as Haytarma (2013, Ukraine) and Chuzha molytva / 87 children (2017, Ukraine and Georgia). The sombre history of the twentieth century greatly influences Ukrainian filmmakers and hinders them from creating content filled with nostalgia.
In contrast, Russian directors like Karen Shakhnazarov (Ischeznuvshaia imperiia / Vanished Empire, 2008, Russia) or Nikolai Lebedev (Legenda No 17 / Legend No. 17, 2013, Russia) use popular genres to evoke sentimental feelings about the Soviet era, depicting it as a time of stability and collective pride. Shlikhar argues that this tendency functions ideologically by reconstructing the USSR as a lost paradise and thereby legitimising contemporary authoritarianism. She identifies nostalgia as a defining emotion in Russian historical films since the early 2000s.
One of the most compelling discussions in the book focuses on how memory operates differently across various cinematic traditions. In Russia, memory tends to be monumental and collective, while in Ukraine, it is often fragmentary and personal. (Ibid.: 162-166). Shlikhar highlights that these contrasting modes of remembering are linked to different political systems – the imperial for Russia and the democratic for Ukraine – making this observation one of the study's key contributions.
The final chapter, titled "Memory of the Russian War in Ukraine," identifies the post-2014 period as a crucial turning point when the "parallel realities" of Russian and Ukrainian cinema began to fully diverge. Ukrainian cinematography emerged as a significant element in Ukrainian cultural politics, serving as a means to convey the truth about the war and the actions of its people. Such films as Atlantyda / Atlantis (Valentyn Vasianovych, 2019, Ukraine) and Kiborgy: heroii ne vmyraiut’ / Cyborgs: Heroes Never Die (Akhtem Seitablaiev, 2017, Ukraine) depict the war not as a spectacle but as a devastating aftermath and as a self-sacrifice, respectively, without glorifying it.
In contrast, Shlikhar points out, Russian films addressing the annexation of Crimea and the war in the Donbas region – such Krym / Crimea (Aleksei Pimanov, 2017, Russia) – promote official state narratives that justify aggression and romanticise the Russian political mythology of unity between Russia and Ukraine. (Ibid.: 174-175) Such films combine entertainment with propaganda, providing a convenient shortcut for mass audiences.
As a work of comparative film and cultural studies, Parallel Realities is notable for its methodological clarity. Tetyana Shlikhar effectively combines film analysis with historical contextualization, balancing theoretical reflections with accessible prose. Each chapter is supported by a diverse range of examples, including mainstream blockbusters, independent films, and documentaries. The book's structure – progressing from mythic origins to contemporary conflict – mirrors its central argument regarding the historical continuity of the cinematographic tradition of Russian filmmakers and a rupture, an intentional split from the Soviet school of the Ukrainian artists. However, the extensive range of historical facts, theoretical references, and film examples prove to be limiting to the depth of the cinematographic analysis – here, the reader will not find much focus on the aesthetics of the films or their cinematographic specificities.
From a stylistic perspective, the book is clearly written and methodically organised. Each section begins with a theoretical overview before delving into the discussion of films. The author’s command of sources and her ability to integrate cultural history with textual interpretation demonstrate considerable intellectual precision. However, a more detailed focus on films instead of the details of their production would strengthen the monograph.
Tetyana Shlikhar’s Parallel Realities in Russian and Ukrainian Contemporary Cinema is a landmark contribution to the study of Eastern European film and memory politics. By tracing the transformation of historical myths into visual ideologies, Shlikhar demonstrates how cinema plays a crucial role in the ongoing ‘war of narratives’ that shapes the contemporary cultural landscape of the region. The book's relevance extends beyond film scholarship; it will also be of interest to historians, cultural theorists, and anyone interested in how nations envision themselves through moving images.
Tetyana Dzyadevych
University of Illinois
tdzyad2@illinois.edu
Tetyana Dzyadevych is a researcher, commentator, and analyst of modern Ukrainian and Russian culture and literature. She was born and raised in Kyiv, Ukraine. Tetyana received her education in Europe and the USA. Dr. Dzyadevych holds two PhD degrees: one from Maria Curie-Sklodowska University of Lublin in Poland, and the other from the University of Illinois at Chicago. Dr. Dzyadevych has multiple publications on Slavic romanticism, modernism, and late Soviet and post-Soviet literature. Her most current publication is Nostalgia, Anxiety, Politics: Media and Performing Arts, from Egypt to Central-Eastern Europe, Including Russia. Wilmington, DE: Vernon Press, 2025. She is currently working on her monograph, Voices of Political Revival in Post-Soviet Russian and Ukrainian Cultural Field.
In the US, she has taught at UIC, New College of Florida, and Grinnell College and held a postdoctoral fellowship at Harvard University's Davis Center. In the fall of 2024, she joined the Department of Slavic Languages and Literatures at the University of Illinois, Urbana-Champaign, as a Lecturer and Language Program Coordinator.
Aksenchuk, Ivan. 1975. Ilia Muromets. Soyuzmultfilm.
Dakhno, Volodymyr and Tadeush Pavlenko. 1973-1984. Yak Kozaky / The Cossacks' Adventures. Kyivnaukfilm.
Davydov, Roman. 1975. Vasilisa Mikulishna. Soyuzmultfilm.
Degtiarev, Vladimir. 1965. Dobrynia Nikitich. Soyuzmultfilm.
Denysenko, Volodymyr. 2022. Kniaz’ Volodymyr: mizh pam’iattiu i pokhvaloiu / Prince Volodymyr: Between Memory and Praise. Nova Film.
Diachenko, Dmitrii. 2017. Poslednii bogatyr’ / The Last Warrior. Walt Disney Pictures and Yellow, Black and White.
Eisenstein, Sergei. 1938. Aleksandr Nevskii / Aleksander Nevsky. Mosfilm.
Ihnatusha, Oleksandr. 1992. Tsvitinnia kul’baby / The Blooming of the Dandelion. Dovzhenko Film Studios.
Illienko, Mykhailo. 1994. Fuchzhou abo Ochikuiuchi vantazh na reidi bilia pagody / Fuzhou, or Waiting for a Cargo by the Pagoda on the Fuzhou Run. Danapris-Films, DP Belgorodkino, and Dovzhenko Film Studios.
Illienko, Mykhailo. 1997. Siomyi marshrut / The Seventh Route. Dovzhenko Film Studios and Veselka Creative Union.
Ivchenko, Borys. 1972. Propala Hramota / Lost Letter. Dovzhenko Film Studios.
Kavaleridze, Ivan. 1933. Kolliyivshchyna. Ukrainfilm.
Kovaliov, Yurii. 2017. Storozhova zastava / The Stronghold. Kinorob.
Kravchuk, Andrei. 2016. Viking / The Viking. Dago Productions, Cinema Directorate Studio (Direktsiia kino), Studio Trite, Channel One.
Kryshtofovych, Viacheslav. 1997. Pryiatel’ nebizhchyka / The Friend of the Deceased. Dovzhenko Film Studios, Compagnie des Films, Est-Quest, and Sh. Aimanov Kazakhfilm Studio.
Kulakov, Iuri. 2005. Kniaz’ Vladimir / Prince Vladimir. Studio Solnetchnyi Dom-DM, Channel One, and Kaskad-Film.
Lebedev, Nikolai. 2013. Legenda No 17 / Legend No. 17. Trite Studio.
Pimanov, Aleksei. 2017. Krym / Crimea. Pimanov i partnery.
Ptushko, Aleksandr. 1953. Sadko. Mosfilm.
Sanin, Oles’. 2013. Povodyr / The Guide. Pronto film.
Savchenko, Ihor. 1941. Bohdan Khmelnytskyi. Dovzhenko Film Studios.
Seitablaiev, Akhtem. 2013. Haytarma. Telekanal ATR.
Seitablaiev, Akhtem. 2017. Chuzha molytva / 87 children. Idas Film.
Seitablaiev, Akhtem. 2017. Kiborgy: heroii ne vmyraiut’ / Cyborgs: Heroes Never Die. Idas Film.
Shakhnazarov, Karen. 2008. Ischeznuvshaia imperiia / Vanished Empire. Mosfilm.
Tarkovskii, Andrei. 1966. Andreii Rublev / Andrey Rublev. Mosfilm.
Vasianovych, Valentyn. 2019. Atlantyda / Atlantis. Harmata Film Limelite.
Yanchuk, Oles’. 1991. Holod-33 / Famine-33. Dovzhenko Film Studios.
Tetyana Dzyadevych. 2025. Review: “Tetyana Shlikhar: Parallel Realities in Russian and Ukrainian Contemporary Cinema”. Apparatus. Film, Media and Digital Cultures in Central and Eastern Europe 21. DOI: https://dx.doi.org/10.17892/app.2025.00021.409.
URL: http://www.apparatusjournal.net/
Copyright: The text of this article has been published under https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. This licence does not apply to the media referenced in the article, which are subject to the individual rights owner's terms.