In a Carpathian village, Ivan falls in love with Marichka, the daughter of his father's killer. When tragedy befalls her, his grief lasts months; finally he rejoins the colorful life around him, marrying Palagna. She wants children but his mind stays on his lost love. To recapture his attention, Palagna tries sorcery, and in the process comes under the spell of the sorcerer, publicly humiliating Ivan, who then fights the sorcerer. The lively rhythms of village life, the work and the holidays, the pageant and revelry of weddings and funerals, the change of seasons, and nature's beauty give proportion to Ivan's tragedy.
“The Carpathians are medieval!” one character bellows, and this tale of the tree-chopper Petro, his faithless wife Marijka, and various scheming businessmen and foremen does little to disprove the assertion. Interestingly filmed with a nonprofessional cast recruited from the region, Faithless Marijka may have a neorealist conceit, but its direction is utterly futuristic, filled with the lightning-fast montage techniques and low-angle camera of the Soviet avant-garde (along with its invigorating agitprop).
This film is a romantic story of love between a Hutsul girl and wounded Soviet guerrilla Andrii whom she rescues from certain death. The events unfold against the backdrop of WW2 presented with many obligatory falsehoods of the imperial Russian historiography: heroic Soviet guerrillas, poor and backward Hutsuls, rich Hutsuls betraying their own people and collaborating with the enemy, Ukrainians incapable of their own agency. Crude and mendacious as it is, this ideology is relegated to the narrative background, and the viewer's attention gets quickly captivated by the artistic fortes of the film: riveting stage presence of Kostiantyn Stepankov, Ivan Mykolaichuk, Boryslav Brondukov and the debuting Ivan Havryliuk; gorgeously atmospheric photography of Mykola Kulchytsky, beautiful faces, language, and dress of the Carpathian Ukrainians, and a faithful presentation of Hultsul folk culture devoid of typically condescending Soviet colonial slant.
In a mountain village one woman's beauty and popularity with the men incurs the wrath of the others. AKA The Stray.
The documentary film is not a search for the survived truth of the inhabitants of the Ruthenian village Ladomírová. It captures their subjective memories, often frozen in time and in everyday life. Only strong impressions of sadness, joy, suffering, which reflect the great history of the 20th century. There is no truth about the past, it is only the human mind that actually makes morytates - bloody enlightening stories and legends.
Dedicated to the Lemkos, who through their extraordinary love for the country overcame the trauma of massive deportations during the "Operation Vistula" and managed to return to their homeland. This film is a story about the fate of people from the annihilated Długie village, and it talks about Małastów village, where Lemkos, originally the dominant group, were transformed into a defenceless minority. Today, with admirable perseverance, they continue to fight for their rights. Above all, this is a film about love, which is the most precious thing.
The 20th century was the roughest in history for the Carpatho-Rusyns of Central Europe. After World War II, when they were declared Ukrainians by the new Communist regimes in every country where they live, Carpatho-Rusyns in Czechoslovakia and elsewhere became extinct overnight -- and this was their existence for more than 50 years. But with the 1989 Velvet Revolution, led by the playwright and former dissident Václav Havel, Carpatho-Rusyn ethnicity revived in every country - including the United States. This is the story of that revival.