TIFF Review: “Temporary Shelter”

Temporary Shelter (Anastasiia Bortuali, 2024) 4 out of 5 stars

Russia’s invasion of Ukraine has led to widespread trauma inside the latter country, once linked to its larger neighbor through empire. Actually, the first large-scale Slavic state was centered in Kiev (now the capital of Ukraine), though in the centuries following the downfall of Kievan Rus the power shifted East, to Moscow, with a switch West to St. Petersburg under Tsar Peter I—aka “The Great”—then back to Moscow with the formation of the Soviet Union. Since the dissolution of that later entity, in 1991, Ukraine has been an independent country. Unless you’re Vladimir Putin, who believes that Ukraine is still part of Russia.

In her debut documentary, filmmaker Anastasiia Bortuali profiles those Ukrainians who have fled the conflict imposed on them by Russia’s current-would-be emperor, finding a home, of sorts, in Iceland. Though they are displaced, they make do. Bortuali is one of those refugees, having come in 2022 to take up residence in a former NATO base now known as the Ásbrú Refugee Camp. Her movie follows the daily lives of her compatriots as they struggle to make sense of the world they now inhabit.

Most of the footage consists of the quotidian routines of a recurring cast of characters, the majority of whom are gainfully employed thanks to changes in how Iceland treats its refugee populations. They take language lessons while working in food service, construction, and other important support jobs, many of them holding down multiple positions to make ends meet. Speaking of language, quite a few of the Ukrainians appear to speak Russian as their first language, driving home the true brutality of the war, since the two countries are so closely linked by culture.

Bortuali intercuts the shots of the Nordic land with scenes of the war back home. More often, she holds on images of Iceland as she plays audio of missiles, bombs, and sirens over Ukraine. Sometimes, her rapid editing proves overly disjointed, but most of the time it works to evoke the feeling of helplessness of these people cut off from everything they once knew.

Iceland is a beautiful and, to the Ukrainians, mysterious place, with volcanic eruptions that spew lava flows over nearby fields. We hear of some who fear these hot rivers more than the dangers from the Russians, but otherwise the geological wonders of the place prove magical. As does the visual representation of them captured by Boruali with her camera.

It’s a consistently engaging, if also unsettling, narrative, tears and fears mixed with relief to be away from the war (even if loved ones remain in the hot zone). There is a poetic lyricism to the tapestry, as well, born of artistic ostranenie (defamliarization), that adds to the enchantment of the piece. Though Iceland may only be a temporary address for our protagonists, it is still very much a gorgeous safe haven, for now.

Christopher Llewellyn Reed

Christopher Llewellyn Reed is a film critic, filmmaker, and educator, as well as Film Festival Today's Editor. A member of both the Online Film Critics Society (OFCS) and the Washington DC Area Film Critics Association (WAFCA), and a Rotten Tomatoes-approved film critic, Chris is, in addition, lead film critic at Hammer to Nail and the author of Film Editing: Theory and Practice.