Art, as witnessed throughout roughly the entirety of the written record, has been seen as much an expression of self as an escape from any number of the inevitable challenges life can and will present; Shimada Yoshiko’s Becoming a Statue of a Japanese Comfort Woman exists as a piece of performance art in addition to a tribute to those no longer with us. At the same time, Banksy’s Girl Holding an Ice Cream Bomb sheds any form of subtlety by showcasing an image of a child clutching an ice cream cone with a stick of dynamite housed within. Nearly every major war throughout history has produced copious amounts of art referencing the surrounding conflict and in protest. Still, as the inescapable horrors unfold, the question of art’s purpose amid such chaos becomes impossible to ignore. In times like these, where does art fit? A documentary called “Rule of Two Walls” may have an answer.
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In Lviv, a Ukrainian city caught in the midst of the ongoing Russian invasion, director David Gutnik drops viewers into the action near the beginning of 2022. It’s here that waking up to the sound of an air raid siren or two isn’t at all uncommon, and the film’s subjects wax poetically throughout on such sounds and the structural integrity of the buildings they inhabit; the film’s title refers to the manner in which one should seek shelter from an enemy attack, making sure to place two walls in between oneself and the blast outside. Fortunately, any wartime commentary can soon be seen as a mere companion to the artistry of those profiled; the Lviv Municipal Art Center sees its walls adorned with painting after painting depicting the bleak atmosphere of the still-current times, while musicians take to an aggressive form of hip-hop in an effort to make their devastatingly too-direct lyrics be heard.Chapters divide the narrative, though it’s far too easy to ignore this choice and let the film play out as one continuous story; it isn’t long before scenes begin to blur, and in an unexpected turn, the moments when any interviewee takes center stage start to morph into the film’s most compelling moments. Their escape into art fuels the flow, but as they speak on the loss of religion, the anticipation of their own end and musing about how that end will arrive, an undeniable sensation of a possible choice made by Gutnik to seemingly place some distance between his talking heads and their art becomes palpable, whether intentional or otherwise. There’s no denying there’s something terrible happening in Lviv, one of many parts comprising a distressingly war-torn country, and the art materializing in this particular town could easily be characterized by any noun one may choose, be it resistance, resilience, or defiance; the list goes on. And yet, awash in the chaos is a real sense of life continuing as it’s always been, even amidst the bodies at which Gutnik isn’t afraid to point the camera or the sad reveal of how the Ukranian tongue has been suppressed.
A live concert closes the film, another moment where the lyrics erupt from the PA with the blunt force of someone recognizing far too well the conditions of his surrounding environment and the possibility of a dire future ahead. These artists remain unafraid to continue producing all that remains passionate to each, with the film itself acting as its own product as Gutnik’s filmmaking team is revealed to be those he’s profiled onscreen throughout. Earlier this year, “Porcelain War” showcased a similar group of artists as they took on roles at the frontlines of the developing conflict, but in “Rule of Two Walls,” with no apparent end in sight, all anyone has is what they create. For them, this is more than enough. [B+]
“Rule of Two Walls” will open in LA at Laemmle’s Royal on October 25th and will be available on digital platforms and VOD starting Nov. 12th, courtesy of Monument Releasing.