The death penalty will forever be a hot-button issue in the U.S. and overseas. Dating back three decades, Ukraine joined other European nations in banning the ultimate penalty, but what about the years leading up to the small country’s monumental decision? Kyiv-native filmmaker Philip Sotnychenko chose to base his new feature in the months leading up Ukraine’s official declaration, a key factor in his disjointed narrative involving a complex and ultimately despondent murder investigation. Just as some authors are deemed a “writer’s writer,” La Palisiada is indeed cinema for cinephiles, a challenging but ultimately rewarding film that proves the country’s talent behind the lens.
The 2025 Oscars are panning out to be another tight competition, of course, with the International Feature category ever a hot contender. If Academy members are up for challenging work, then perhaps Ukraine’s latest entry into the race might just hold a candle to the top-five list. And hey, the renowned films of Michael Haneke might come to mind while digesting La Palisiada, so that’s a decent start. And we’ll explain why.
You’ve been forewarned here that this is challenging work, but if you’re a MovieWeb reader, that should mean you’re ready for the task. The term “Tarantino” has been used playfully as a verb over the years, where a story commences with a flash-forward and then brings us back X number of years to recount the events that transpired and led to such a gripping cold open. Notably, the introductory sequence in La Palisiada lasts well over 20 minutes, taking place in present-day Ukraine, before rewinding almost 30 years to the year 1996 — aka its post-Soviet, pre-death penalty-ban days. The timing of the central story thus takes on a thrilling significance as the A-story soon kicks into gear.
Both the opening and closing sequences end with a bang, and if you’re paying close enough attention during this elongated opening sequence of seemingly mundane setups, director Sotnychenko is certainly encouraging parallels to be drawn between the leadups to both his bullet-laced finales. Once a purposefully abrupt shooting caps off the intro, Sotnychenko takes us back to the ’90s but utilizes the same principal lead actors, of course looking 30 years younger: detective Ilhar (Novruz Pashayev) and his friend Oleksandr (Andrii Zhurba), a forensic psychologist. The sleek 16×9 framing of the film’s opening has now shifted to a grainy 4×3 look that highlights the popular video-camera look amid the 20th century’s conclusion, as the shaky handheld lenses track the male duo’s journey in investigating the death of their police colleague.
Let’s reinforce “challenging” again here, as Ilhar and Oleksandr’s storyline is also captured in a narratively disjointed fashion, abruptly cutting between back and forth in time to supposedly flesh out the investigation. But in doing so, the facts of the case become all the more muddled, as we struggle alongside the detectives in deciphering fact from fiction once more witnesses speak out, the crime scene is revisited, and more. Plus, this meta component is further solidified by the camerawork itself, as the line becomes increasingly blurred between which scenes are captured by the film’s DP Volodymyr Usyk, which are “shot” by a law enforcement official within the film’s universe, and which are the work of an in-universe journalist. In effect, our suspicions are raised, similar to the widespread paranoia in the country-in-turmoil that was Ukraine in the ’90s — a country that is still very much in turmoil today.
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Hints of Haneke and an Explosive Ending
Among filmmaking icon Haneke’s self-reflexive works, his masterpiece Caché (2005) is perhaps the most relevant in dissecting the exciting new super-meta drama that is La Palisiada by Sotnychenko, who has said that Haneke is an influence on his work. In this Ukraine-set feature, we’re urged to raise flags throughout as to who the voyeur is in each scene, peeking in on civilization and police-investigation developments. Just as in Caché, many of the most emotionally intense sequences occur without support from any sort of non-diegetic original score, successfully heightening the drama in an ironic sort of way. You’ll often have to catch yourself and remember, “No, this is not a documentary I’m watching.”
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There is plenty else to analyze here, including the neo-noir shades as the complicated rapport between Ilhar, Oleksandr and their murdered colleague’s widow is slowly unearthed. A love triangle has clearly brewed, making for a unique femme fatale who we never come to fully grasp — and that’s quite alright. It certainly helps that Sotnychenko effectively weaves just the appropriate amount of dry humor across his uniquely disjointed tale. This is an entertainment medium, after all. And as a case builds around one suspect in particular who is tied to the pair’s police colleague’s demise, the film meanwhile builds to a climactic courtroom finale and a shocking ending that might just leave you speechless. And wouldn’t that just leave an eerie vibe in the room, since the lack of musical accompaniment continues to make its mark all the way through, up until the credits finally roll on the film’s tight 100-minute duration.
Even the film’s title provokes thought, especially after taking a beat to take in all that’s thrown your way in this exploration of the months before Ukraine’s death-penalty ban. As director Sotnychenko has confirmed to the media, the title is a combination of the word “policiada” (police story) and “lapalissade” (a redundant truth, as confirmed by a character in one of the final scenes). The clash of words is yet another parallel to the story itself, a clashing of what should be a straightforward investigation that gets muddled by police work — within a Ukrainian political climate where truths are equally muddled. And, of course, an open-ended cinematic journey like La Palisiada will welcome your own alternative interpretation as well.
From VIATEL & Contemporary Ukrainian Cinema, La Palisiada is now available on digital.
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