Andzej Gavriss discusses the psychological effects of the war to deliver a powerful message of strength and community.
Like the rest of the world, Berlin-based filmmaker Andzej Gavriss woke up one morning to an alert that Putin had declared war on Ukraine. And, like the rest of the world, Gavriss felt the overwhelming urge to take action as, in the weeks following, thousands of Ukranians were quite suddenly and violently displaced. “The terrible news and heartbreaking images were coming from every corner of the Internet,” he recalls, “and snowballed into an avalanche of paralyzing pain.” Pushing past the initial shock, Gavriss turned to his camera and got to work, writing and directing a short film titled Uprooted, in partnership with the United Nations Refugee Agency (UNHCR) to deliver a powerful and hopeful message not only for Ukrainian refugees, but all refugees around the world.
Uprooted follows vignettes of Ukrainian refugees in Berlin experiencing traumatic responses to seemingly innocuous sensory cues–flashing lights, fireworks, ambulance sirens–as onlookers watch. The film is less about the graphic, physical violence of war than on the psychological and emotional impact that trauma impresses upon individuals. “Most of the films that I make are inspired by events or experiences,” Gavriss explains. “Of course I was aware of other horrible stories from different parts of the world, people crossing seas in a tiny boat, walking for days in the desert, etc. My own personal experience was that I was surrounded by so many people that fled from Ukraine to Berlin, these were friends, colleagues or just people that I met at protests. By spending time with them, I witnessed how almost paralyzed they became when exposed to loud noises or flashes.”
The ethos of Uprooted is made all the more impactful when you take into consideration that his cast is made up of Ukrainian refugees themselves, lending to an even deeper layer of meaning and importance. The film then climaxes to beautiful, high intensity shots of people running, reaching with outstretched hands to grasp onto each other to form the incredible visual metaphor of a tree. Gavriss’s message is clear: even when uprooted, we can grow again through unity, strength, and togetherness.
“My own personal experience was that I was surrounded by so many people that fled from Ukraine to Berlin, these were friends, colleagues or just people that I met at protests.”
For Gavriss, who grew up in post-Soviet Latvia, creative storytelling was not just a pastime, but a means of survival. When describing his childhood, he recalls feeling pressured by the massive gray walls of uniform blockhouses that defined Soviet-era architecture. “My subconsciousness was blocking the reality that I was surrounded with, and the only escape that my mind offered was imagination, a fantasy of my own more exciting world,” he says.
After being gifted a video camera by his father, Gavriss soon learned the power of the lens and began to document anything and everything in sight. His penchant for magic realism that defines his films can be traced to a formative memory when a friend had shown him Spike Jonze’s Yeah, Right!, a skateboarding film where the use of green screen, intricate soundtracks, and special effects helped push the bounds of filmmaking. “I realized that not only can you document the reality, you can create your own,” Gavriss ruminates, “From this moment, the camera became my best friend.”
Gavriss speaks with a deep thoughtfulness, passionate in his convictions, and compassionate in his intentions. It’s not the first time he’s broached heavy subjects in his films. “I do make a cautious choice to talk about complicated political issues. I have shot a film about homelessness in the U.S., as well as a story in support of LGBTQ+ community rights that we shot in Moscow before the war.” He pauses for a moment to reflect: “I guess I just care about what happens around me. I want to raise conversations and speak out loud.”
While Gavriss has centered a number of important social and political issues in his work, Uprooted remains one that hits closest to home. He describes the organic conception of the film, born from late night conversations with close friends and colleagues who have been directly displaced by the war as well as the intimate emotional spaces where stories and experiences were being shared in and around his circles. “I never wanted the film to be forced, or made out of self-pity, so I decided to wait it out and tell the story to my refugee friends and colleagues from Ukraine to gauge their reactions to the idea.”
It wasn’t until close friend and costume designer Margarita Shekel brought up her own traumatic experiences in Kyiv and how they manifested in her daily life did Gavriss bring up the idea to her. “She said that it’s exactly how she feels and it’s a really important subject to talk about. This encouraged me to continue these conversations with other Ukrainian people that suffer from PTSD. By the end of it, there was no doubt in my mind that we needed to proceed with the film.”
It is this sense of urgency as well as his intuitive storytelling instincts that propelled Gavriss forward with the film. “If it’s guilt or whatever, if it really burns, you should use it,” he says. “Whatever you want to do, if you feel personally about it you should do it.” While Gavriss seized the momentum of his convictions, there was still careful consideration behind every one of his decisions, whether it be creative or otherwise. “Am I doing the right thing? Am I the person to talk about it?” he questions. “Now I feel like what I actually want from my career is to get to the point where I’m past this. I can do work that will open people’s minds. I feel like sometimes you think about it too much and you lose the moment and no one will ever do anything.”
“The refugee crisis is just the tip of the iceberg,” he remarks, “so let’s just talk about something we do know—PTSD.”
Opening up conversations about the mental and psychological impact war has on refugees then became the onus of Uprooted. Gavriss isn’t interested in making political statements or pushing narratives. Instead, his priority lies in giving attention to the collateral effects of the war as experienced by those who are still going through trauma. “The refugee crisis is just the tip of the iceberg,” he remarks, “so let’s just talk about something we do know—PTSD.”
With the cast made up of Ukrainian refugees, Gavriss wanted to give them the freedom and space to inject their own personal feelings into the film. “For me the real challenge was to find the balance between getting the best performance out of the actors and keeping them in a psychologically safe environment. In order to do that, we spent a lot of time in rehearsals to establish a connection between each other, and build a safe emotional space,” he explains.
Olga Shevchuk, one of the leads in the film, essentially plays herself as her character is woken up one night to diegetic sounds of gunfire and explosives. This scene is an eerily accurate portrayal of her actual experiences, one that Gavriss handles with extreme care and delicateness. “A few months ago Olga woke up to the sounds of heavy bombing in her apartment in the middle of the night. All she managed to take with herself was her backpack,” describes Gavriss. “Although Olga is one of the most talented young actresses I have worked with so far, her own experience made the performance so transcendent and real. She is a strong and independent young woman, she brought a lot of her own ideas and most importantly she portrayed the courage and unbreakable hope of her people.”
After debuting Uprooted with the UNHCR, Gavriss remarks: “We received numerous emails and messages of people saying, “you hear us”, “this is exactly how I feel’.” He goes on to explain that “the film gives them the sense that they are not alone experiencing this. Sharing this film gives them an opportunity to speak about their problem.” Gavriss emphasizes his objective once more: to start significant conversations surrounding mental health and trauma. “The message is universal because there are so many people that feel the same,” he says.
Gavriss carries this approach in his own life, too. Using his platform and his art, he uses questioning and opening up conversations as an approach to build connection and empathy. He regularly shares messages and discourse on his social media, and often takes a step back to offer a platform for people to connect through him and understand differing points of view. Cultivating empathy, empowering each other, and inspiring community
are core values, not just of Uprooted, but of Gavriss as a filmmaker and as a global citizen. “Anything helps,” Gavriss encourages. “Keep engaging.”
