Chilling Doc 20 Days in Mariupol Captures the Horrors of the Ukraine Invasion in Real Time

It should go without saying that assessing the supposed “quality” of a film like 20 Days in Mariupol—an on-the-ground collection of footage from the Russo-Ukrainian War’s beginning days—is immaterial. The unflinching documentary follows Ukrainian international AP journalist Mstyslav Chernov, field producer Vasilisa Stepanenko and still photographer Evgeniy Maloletka, who were the last remaining journalists in Mariupol after arriving to document the beginning of the oncoming war, knowing that Russian forces were going to strategically prioritize a takeover of the port city. Some civilians fled before the conflict arrived. Many stayed, either out of an inability to leave or disbelief that such a terrorizing force would attack civilians. The war started within an hour of Chernov and his crew arriving in the city. 20 Days in Mariupol is a real-time account of a community that had their homes, families and livelihoods violently ripped away in a matter of days.

Shot entirely from the perspective of Chernov’s lone camera, 20 Days in Mariupol is a demanding and visceral watch. The footage is raw and has a rampant sense of terrifying immediacy, with images transmitted straight from the heart of an excessively brutal conflict, assembled together with precise editing of materials from Michelle Mizner and Chernov’s own haunted narration to accompany proceedings. As the title suggests, the crew weathers the 20 days it took for Russian soldiers to transform Mariupol into an inhospitable war zone. With no sign of Ukrainian forces and with the city becoming closed in on all sides, anyone remaining is stuck with nowhere to go—including Chernov and his team.

It starts with the sudden air raids and shellings of everything: Town centers, universities, hospitals, neighborhoods. Early on, Chernov encounters a horrified local woman who begs for information about where she should go or what she should do if the bombs start hitting her neighborhood. It seems inconceivable that Russia would attack innocent civilians, even to Chernov. He tells her to wait in her basement and wait for more information—there won’t be any artillery attacks on neighborhoods. That’s an hour before the woman’s block is hit. All Chernov can do when he encounters her at an improvised shelter later on is apologize and tell her he’s glad she’s okay. 

Chernov’s other interactions with Mariupol locals see a community helpless and afraid. Some ask to be interviewed so that, if the footage makes it out, the rest of their family might be able to see they’re still alive. Some treat Chernov and his camera as interlopers, pointlessly filming the suffering of innocent people, ineffectual in actually producing any tangible help. Some see the true potential of such footage: To turn the tides of war. A police officer overhears Chernov and his crew trying to figure out how to send his footage out to editors once the city has been cut off from internet access. He’s able to help the crew get to power and connection, and the footage makes it out of the country. Chernov’s images come to represent the true face of the war during a time when the world didn’t know the extent of the humanitarian crimes being committed. Russian media and government bodies would discredit the footage, claiming it was full of actors being used to vilify their country and spearheading a misinformation campaign to cause more chaos and confusion—and to further isolate Ukrainian survivors. 

In his unceasing documentation and dogged resolve to ensure his footage makes it to the masses, Chernov and the result of his efforts speak to the paramount necessity of war reporting as its own way of fighting against oppressors. Russian government bodies knew the power of such images. That’s why they were desperate to sell the narrative that they were fake. Chernov’s camera is a tool to capture and distribute their worst fear: The truth. 

The film refuses to water down those images. That would be disingenuous to this entire thesis. The footage is extremely grueling to watch. Chernov and others regularly run and duck for cover as they hear what could be the next air strike. Doctors try to resuscitate a young boy caught in the fallout of a bombing to no avail. Bloodied people crowd inside hospitals and shelters. Particularly graphic injuries are blurred—such as that of a pregnant woman, caught in the attack on a maternity ward, who would later die—but there is no shying away from the images of dead bodies, either being put into makeshift mortuaries, thrown into mass grave sites, or lying face down in the middle of the street. The full, excruciating reality of the invasion is put on display, including the disorder from the loss of necessities like food and water. When you have no other options, sometimes you have to try and catch the rat that you see scurrying across the road. 

Chernov and his team made it out of Mariupol right as Russia started to take ground control, but his narration alludes to all the people he had to leave behind. There is no silver lining to be found in its closing moments. Mariupol fell to Russia. Ukraine has been besieged by violence, death and destruction, with no end in sight 18 months later. As Chernov says, “This is painful to watch. But it must be painful to watch.” It may also be our moral imperative to ensure that it’s seen.

Directors: Mstyslav Chernov
Release Date: July 14, 2023

Trace Sauveur is a writer based in Austin, TX, where he primarily contributes to The Austin Chronicle. He loves David Lynch, John Carpenter, the Fast & Furious movies, and all the same bands he listened to in high school. He is @tracesauveur on Twitter where you can allow his thoughts to contaminate your feed.