OSCARS 2023: A House Made of Splinters (2022)

I'll admit to not being horribly well read about the situation in Europe these days. Even before Russia invaded Ukraine, Vladamir Putin struck me as a power-hungry, would-be dictator. Just reading about the atrocities Russia has performed in Ukraine since the war started makes it clear to me how history will judge this conflict. I have no doubt that Putin's action will have global ramifications for years and be a topic of discussion for decades to come. In other words: There's going to be a lot of important, incredibly depressing movies made about this. Even before the invasion officially began, there was a notable, important, depressing documentary made in Ukraine. “A House Made of Splinters” is not directly about Russia and Ukraine's on-going fight. Yet the spectre of the war hangs over a movie that was already a huge downer to begin with. The inevitability of the violence, about to break loose, makes an emotional watch even more harrowing.

Set in the Ukraine city of Donbas, “A House Made of Splinters” follows the going-ons at a state-run orphanage. The program takes care of children who have been abandoned by their parents, many of whom are alcoholics. The teachers and caretakers there attempt to establish contact with the absentee parents, essentially giving them another chance to prove themselves, or set up foster homes for the children. The filmmakers focus on three cases in particular: Eva, a young girl who is hoping to be placed with her grandmother; Sasha, an even younger girl whose mother is totally absent; and Kolya, a troubled boy living there with his siblings.

Maybe the most heartbreaking moment in "A House Made of Splinters" – a film that is, overall, really sad – occurs during the one time Kolya's mother visits him and his siblings. They hug and the parent seems happy to see her son. Yet he immediately recognizes the smell of alcohol on her breath, asking her about it. She quickly admits that she had one beer that morning. It's a moment when you see child and parent switch roles, the kid being forced to stand-up and be the responsible one next to their dysfunctional parent. It's also the only time in the film we actually see a parent interact with their children. Throughout, there's phone calls between the kids and their guardians. Each desperate call features a drunk parent, a missing one, or a receiver that's simply never picked up. 

It is, to say the least, a deeply sad affair. "A House Made of Splinters" is an observational documentary, devoted to watching the children as they go about their days in the orphanage. Through these daily activities, we see how the kids cope with their situations. The girls crush on certain boys, leaving notes in their bunks. (Which are apathetically received.) They blow bubbles or stand under curtains, pretending to be ghosts. The boys crawl under blankets and tell each other horror stories... Which happen to be true stories, of the way their inebriated parents have abused them. Following a Christmas morning, we see Sasha getting frustrated with a voice-activated doll she was gifted. You can't help but wonder if this mirrors some of the interactions she's had with her own mother. 

That's the dispiriting question that floats over the whole movie: Are these kids doomed to become as broken as their parents? Kolya seems to be a juvenile delinquent in training, often getting in trouble with the teachers. He decorates himself with Sharpie tattoos, seemingly fantasizing about being a prison-bound gangster. At one point, after stealing some petty cash, he gets a stern lecture from a police officer. (Which later prompts him to write "ACAB" on his arm.) When interacting with his brothers, it's often by beating a punching bag. Which is probably typical kids stuff but you can't help but wonder if violence is a way for him to vent his frustration. In a later moment, we see Sasha wrestling with a friend as well. During the same scene, the little girls admit they've tasted alcohol before. It's hard to escape the feeling that each of these poor, lost children are resigned to their fate. They play fortune telling games during sleepovers, predicting similarly depressing futures for themselves. In another contender for "A House Made of Splinters'" saddest scene, a caretaker admits that this is a cycle she's seen play out before. Of abandoned children going onto become bad parents themselves, ultimately abandoning kids of their own. 

There are slivers of hope. Kolya is nurturing and loving with his little sister, suggesting that the boy has an emotional inner life that can still salvaged. The film tries to end these stories in as happy a place as possible, with smiling reunions and new beginnings... Yet the inevitability of the Russian invasion ensures life will only get harder for these kids. "A House Made of Splinters" really tore my heart out. If the greatest goal a movie can aspire to is being an empathy generating machine, then this film touched my heart deeply. Yet it's also such an emotionally wrenching watch that I can't say I'm eager to revisit it. It just makes me hope that these kids make it out of their current situation okay. And it makes me feel like caretakers are angels even more than I did already. [8/10]