Atlantis

Tonally, there are shades of Werner Herzog. But Vasyanovych's tone is distinct; not to mention timely. The crisis he depicts can be as dull as it is dramatic, making Atlantis an eerily topical watch.

Atlantis isn't an easy film to watch, and it's not meant to be. It's an anti-war film without solutions, but what it clear is that Vasyanovych believes in humanity rebuilding from tragedy.

It is viscerally bleak and very slow. I can't say that I enjoyed it, but I really admire the artistry behind it and I admire the intent.

What eventually emerges is a devastating look at this country that has won a war, but lost so much of what they were fighting for.

An extremely well-made film that contains some truly extraordinary imagery.

What exists in this visualized afterward may not look like anything, but that's why we're fortunate to have artists like Vasyanovych to show us what's dazzling, strange, tragic, comic, touching and eventually optimistic about the way forward.

This is male cinema, in capital letters-but as written, directed, photographed, and edited by Valentyn Vasyanovych, it's also real cinema, made by an artist who has thought about why and how he's showing whatever you see.

For viewers willing to submit themselves to its somber, unhurried style, Vasyanovych's feature reveals a cruel, formidable vision.

The opening and closing scenes provide arresting, profound infrared imagery. Between these bookends, events unfold in lengthy takes through long and extreme long shots, inviting viewers' patience and careful observation.

An artillery shell of an antiwar movie and a vibrant cautionary tale about the military-industrial complex born anew.