Kyiv says the film’s portrayal of Kharkiv and links to Russian finance make its inclusion politically significant, while Venice organisers reject part of the criticism.
Ukraine has opposed the inclusion of DAU, directed by Ilya Khrzhanovsky, in the competition programme of the 83rd Venice Film Festival, where the film is in contention for the Golden Lion. Kyiv argues that the project cannot be treated as politically neutral because Russia uses culture as an instrument of hybrid influence. The dispute was reported on 18 August 2026 by VeneziaToday.
The Ukrainian objection focuses on the film’s financial and artistic connections, as well as its representation of Kharkiv. Much of DAU was filmed in the Ukrainian city between 2008 and 2011, but Kyiv says the project presents it solely through a Soviet historical and cultural lens, without properly reflecting Kharkiv’s Ukrainian history and identity. That approach, Ukraine argues, reproduces an imperial and chauvinistic Russian narrative in which Ukrainian cities are treated as part of a shared Soviet or Russian cultural space.
A film caught between national narratives
The Ukrainian authorities’ criticism extends beyond the film’s setting. DAU received funding in different years from Sergei Adonyev, a Russian businessman who is now under sanctions imposed by the US and Ukraine. One of the leading roles was played by the conductor Teodor Currentzis, who was granted Russian citizenship by decree of the Russian president in 2014. His orchestra, Music Aeterna, was financed by Russia’s VTB Bank.
For Kyiv, those connections mean that the film’s presence at a major European cultural event cannot be assessed only as a matter of artistic merit. The argument is that international cultural platforms can give wider circulation to interpretations of Ukrainian history that erase or subordinate the country’s distinct cultural identity.
That concern is particularly acute in the case of Kharkiv. The city is an inseparable part of Ukraine, with its own Ukrainian identity, yet the film’s framing is said to reduce it to a Soviet setting. In the Ukrainian view, presenting the city in that way does more than select a historical backdrop: it places Ukrainian urban experience inside a Russian-centred account of the past.
Venice rejects part of Kyiv’s case
The Venice Biennale has rejected some of the accusations. It has stressed that the version of DAU entered in the competition is a German production made with French and Swedish participation, rather than a Russian production.
The festival’s response also points to Khrzhanovsky’s personal position. He has renounced Russian citizenship, publicly opposes the invasion and has been designated a “foreign agent” in Russia. Those facts complicate any simple description of the film as an official Russian cultural product, even though Ukraine maintains that the wider network of financing, performers and historical representation remains politically relevant.
The disagreement therefore turns on more than the formal nationality of a production. It raises the question of whether a film’s classification by country is enough to determine its cultural meaning when its financing, participants and subject matter are connected to a contested imperial history. Venice’s position gives weight to the project’s German, French and Swedish production structure; Kyiv’s position places greater emphasis on the narratives that audiences encounter and the relationships behind them.
Why the dispute matters beyond the festival
Cinema remains one of the channels through which Russian influence can reach European audiences. When films are shown at prominent international events without critical context, Ukraine argues, they may help entrench a distorted understanding of Ukrainian history and cultural agency across the EU’s media space.
The Venice controversy shows how cultural recognition can become strategically important even when a work is not presented as a political statement. A film that treats a Ukrainian city primarily through Soviet imagery may reinforce the idea that its past and identity belong to a common Russian cultural sphere. For Ukraine, challenging that framing is part of resisting the broader use of culture as soft power.
The unresolved issue is whether Venice will treat DAU principally as a multinational European production, or acknowledge that its historical setting and associations can carry political consequences independent of its formal production credits.
Should major European cultural festivals provide additional historical context when films depict Ukrainian places through a Soviet or Russian-centred perspective?
