Mazepa Ihor

Bucha (2023) isn’t the kind of movie you forget the second the credits roll, you know? Directed by Mazepa Ihor, this one punches you right in the gut. Set in the grim aftermath of the Russian invasion of Ukraine, it zeroes in on the small town of Bucha—a name that’s become shorthand for tragedy and defiance. The film doesn’t sugarcoat anything. You’re tossed straight into the chaos: families ripped apart, neighbors turning into refugees overnight, the air thick with dread and confusion. The story follows a handful of locals trying to survive when their world flips upside down. There’s a teacher who turns into a makeshift medic, a teenager snapping videos on his phone to show the world what’s happening, and even a Russian soldier who starts questioning his orders. The film doesn’t paint anyone as a simple hero or villain. Instead, it’s about real people stumbling through horror, sometimes doing the right thing, sometimes just trying to get by. Visually, it’s raw—shaky camera work, grimy backstreets, everything feels claustrophobic and real. You’re right there in the ruins, hearing the shelling, feeling the tension. There’s no melodrama, just a bunch of people fighting for scraps of hope. It’s heavy, yeah, but also weirdly full of these tiny moments of solidarity—a neighbor sharing bread, someone risking their neck for a stranger. Bucha isn’t here to comfort you; it’s here to make you look. And honestly? It does.