Viktor

Viktor is one of those rare non-fiction films that through artistry make a story come to life. An intimate portrait of a deaf man personal journey, Olivier's masterful poetic aesthetic vision and a subjective sound design take into the life of Viktor, a deaf photographer as he navigates the complex reality of Russia's invasion of Ukraine. The film is a powerful multidimensional experience that opens up so many reflections on how insightful inspiration from other modes of story telling, art, fiction and more... can be blended together to produce an important documentary that show cases what non-fiction film making is limitless.

A must see.

"Victor" is a masterfully crafted film that plunges the audience into a bleak, yet achingly authentic world. From the very first frame, the precision of the production design and cinematography evokes a classic noir sensibility, with stark contrasts and deep shadows underscoring the protagonist's inner turmoil.

Central to this immersion is the film's exceptional sound design. Though Victor himself cannot hear, the soundtrack gives us a window into the sensory tapestry that might surround him - subtle ambient noises, distant murmurs, the blured music - drawing us ever closer to his experience.

What elevates "Victor" beyond mere stylistic homage is its profound emotional core. Despite the formidable barrier of deafness, Victor refuses to be sidelined. He forges communication with soldiers on the front lines and connects with other isolated souls, transforming his own hardship into a source of purpose.

In sum, "Victor" is not just a film about overcoming adversity-it is a film that lives and breathes its themes through every technical and artistic choice. For anyone seeking a noir-inflected drama that balances aesthetic rigor with genuine emotional depth, "Victor" is an unmissable cinematic achievement.

This film left a deep impression on me. One of the first things that stood out was the color palette - subtle, rich, and atmospheric. It's not just visually beautiful; the colors carry weight and emotion, creating a tone that perfectly matches the quiet intensity of the story. It feels intimate, almost tactile, like you're inside the world of the character.

What truly struck me, though, was the way sound is used - or at times, not used. The filmmakers made a bold and powerful choice in letting us experience the world through silence, through muffled tones and absence. It's more than a stylistic device; it's a bridge into the reality of deafness. For a moment, you really feel what it's like to live in that space of disconnection, where sound is not a given. It's uncomfortable, disorienting - and incredibly humanizing.

The emotional core of the film lies in Victor's transformation. It's not a loud or flashy arc, but a subtle, honest portrayal of growth. You watch him evolve, slowly, painfully, and beautifully. His journey is inward as much as it is outward - and that's what makes it resonate so deeply.

This film isn't for everyone. It's quiet, raw, and demands presence. But if you allow yourself to slow down and really engage, it opens up something rare - not just a story, but an experience. One that lingers long after the final scene.

The film takes you inside a war, and inside the thoughts and experiences of Viktor, who is deaf.

The use of sound in the film is incredible - just one of its masterful artistic decisions. It oscillates between extreme quiet, the chirping of birds and the thunderous booms of weaponry.

Viktor himself is fascinating, from the mark his father's death leaves on him, to his closeness with his mother, to his deep interest in samurai culture, to his dedication to serving his country.

This is one of the most powerful film's I have ever watched about the experience of war. The film stays with you, in an intimate and haunting way, long after you leave the theater.