OLEG KOKHAN: When Cinema Becomes the Frontline
Oleh Kohan / Photo from the personal archive
SHORT PROFILE
Name: Oleh Kohan
Date of Birth: July 2, 1976
Place of Birth: Kyiv, Ukraine
Profession: Film producer
Oleh Kohan burst into the cinema with the passion of a neophyte, an economics degree, and extensive experience in both football and advertising. He burst in — and immediately made everyone talk about him.
First, because he instantly began to demonstrate a completely new approach to film production for Ukraine at that time. Second, because he gained the trust of — and started working right away with — major, established filmmakers: from Kira Muratova and Otar Iosseliani to Roman Balayan and Krzysztof Zanussi.
Third, the films he produced began to make waves at festivals and win awards. Two decades after his astonishing debut, Kohan remains a key figure in Ukrainian cinema — and also in theatre, to which he devotes himself with equal passion.
In just under four years of war, he has produced five films and several stage productions. The most notable among them are Dom by theatrical radical and honored exile Andriy Zholdak, and the film anthology War Through the Eyes of Animals, featuring Sean Penn.
Andrii Alferov: You’ve just presented two major projects to the public. Both are long-term creative endeavors that took several years of your life. Now that you’ve released them, what do you feel — emptiness or, on the contrary, fullness?
Oleh Kohan: I feel that I haven’t really released them yet — yes, the production is complete, and the first audiences have seen them. But that means that ahead are screenings, festivals, discussions, and «sales». Any project today is emotionally exhausting. I’m not even talking about financing and the accompanying risks. The need to constantly make decisions — financial or creative — creates enormous tension. War Through the Eyes of Animals was literally my own invention. I am the author of the very idea of the anthology and responsible for the entire concept, the selection of stories, their writing, casting, and realization. That’s an enormous responsibility.
We’re talking about as many as seven (albeit short) films made during wartime. The story with the stage production is almost the same. And that’s despite the fact that the creative responsibility in that case rested more with Andriy Zholdak, the author of the play and its director. There is now a sense of some emptiness, because when you look at the stage during the premiere, you realize that three months of your life, 24/7, were not in vain. And fullness will come a bit later — with the audience and critics’ reactions, with the touring and festival screenings.
In the case of the film, fullness prevails over emptiness and fatigue. It’s fueled by the reaction of the international film community and viewers after the premiere of the anthology in the U.S. at the Tribeca Festival — they grasped the meanings we had embedded, because we didn’t aim to complain, but rather to tell who we are and what we are fighting for.
And the fact that viewers who have long grown tired of seeing and hearing about the war in Ukraine — a war happening thousands of kilometers away from them — say they saw us more clearly, felt that we have much in common, is truly valuable. Besides, the level of discussion there is much higher than what we’ve encountered so far after the play’s premiere in Ukraine. Perhaps because there, people are discussing a work of art — its relevance, performance, imagery, and potential. It’s not about whether someone liked the play or not.
А. А.: In what sense?
О. К.: You see, the very level of discussion doesn’t even meet the most basic understanding of what contemporary theatre is, how it should be perceived, and how one should speak or write about it.
А. А.: But Andriy Zholdak has always provoked two polar reactions here — either admiration or rejection. The latter eventually prevailed, and he was literally driven out of the country. Do you think that now, after 20 years of exile, he is hated even more fiercely?
О. К.: Zholdak’s art — like the man himself — has never left anyone indifferent. He has always been adored and hated with equal passion and abandon. Accused of radicalism here and nationalism there, but one thing could never be denied — his talent. And the fact that, during his 20 years away from Ukraine, he has staged and continues to stage productions at the world’s leading venues is proof of that.
But this isn’t about past achievements. It’s about the fact that, having found ourselves in cultural isolation, without the chance to see relevant European productions by good directors, we — instead of taking pride in a performance made here, with Ukrainian actors, Ukrainian funding, and on a Ukrainian stage — crucify it over a line like «everything will be fine», debate the artist’s right to work in Ukraine, and raise red flags that frighten the audience, which has already grown used to performances that demand neither heart nor mind. But our job is to play the play. The dogs bark, but the caravan moves on.
I believe in the power of true art — the kind that can overcome our complexes and fears. And I know that Ukrainian audiences, after seeing Dom, will discover new names of brilliant Ukrainian actors and a new level of theatre. Meanwhile, international experts and curators of theatre festivals who attended the premiere noted that the director’s focus on physical intensity — where the body becomes storytelling — and the fragmented narrative structure places this production within the key currents of 21st-century European theatre. And the invitations to stage Dom in Europe serve as confirmation of that.
А. А.: Did you show Dom anywhere in Europe before its Ukrainian premiere?
О. К.: No, we filmed all the rehearsals, so we edited a video version even before the premiere. Then we sent out the recording.
А. А.: Why did you decide to show the war through the eyes of the most vulnerable beings? How and when did this idea come to you?
О. К.: It happened in the third month of the full-scale invasion. I met with my friends — people I’d gotten to know while volunteering at a checkpoint near Kyiv. Many of them had already signed military contracts by then. One of them was serving at headquarters, in charge of cybersecurity. He told me about the first wave of war fatigue and the need to keep Ukraine in the focus of Western attention, as the ratings of news about Ukraine were starting to drop.
He suggested I think about how cinema could reach the hearts and minds of European audiences. That same friend, Andrii, recalled a story about animals and proposed compiling a series of similar videos from YouTube. In his view, such stories might resonate and help attract attention to Ukraine. I, however, believed that we couldn’t go far with YouTube clips — we needed to write original scripts based on those stories, united by a common theme.
It was April. No one was thinking about cinema then. But literally the next day, I met with other friends I had also volunteered with and told them about the idea. They were inspired. They immediately asked about the approximate budget for such a project, then about the cost of producing a single short film… In April 2022, that was not easy to do. Not only were there no sources of funding, but the necessary professionals — cinematographers, lighting designers, actors, production managers, directors — were scattered everywhere. Some were in the territorial defense forces, others in evacuation, still others hiding at home.
After calculating everything, my friends concluded that they couldn’t handle the production of the entire anthology and suggested starting small — by shooting at least one or two shorts. I gathered my team in the office and explained the situation. Svitlana Mashevets, who later became the creative producer — my friend and ally for 20 years — and Oleksii Makukhin both supported the idea. We prepared a presentation and began raising funds for filming. At the same time, we were looking for real stories that could serve as the basis for the scripts.
The shortlist included 60 synopses of animal stories, which we presented to the future authors of the anthology. That’s how it all began.
А. А.: From the moment the idea first appeared to its realization, how much did it change? And did you initially expect that you would bring a major American star into the project?
О. К.: To be honest, from the very beginning, I was certain that there had to be a major star involved — whether European or American didn’t matter at the time. A star who would serve as a magnet and draw attention to the project. The idea of Sean Penn came up around the summer of 2022. I saw his proactive stance on Ukraine and realized: he’s exactly who I need. In other words, an actor who wouldn’t just be doing it for a hefty fee, but who would genuinely share our values.
And Sean Penn turned out to be precisely the person we needed. A few people we knew were in contact with him and could arrange a meeting. My colleagues and I prepared thoroughly — we had to present the project and secure a positive response. By that time, two of the anthology’s short films had already been shot, and we had a presentation and plenty of additional materials ready. In other words, we had something to show. At the same time, we were also preparing a Plan B — letters had been written to two other American stars.
А. А.: Interesting. And to whom, if it’s not a secret?
О. К.: I’d rather not say — it wouldn’t be very appropriate now. Once, Yurii Sak unexpectedly found himself at Sean Penn’s home in Malibu and sent me a photo from there. He wrote that Sean was literally burning with passion for Ukraine, that he had a huge blue-and-yellow flag hanging in his house. I asked if it would be possible to offer him participation in our project, and Yurii replied positively. So we sent all the materials to Sean by email.
A day later, we received a reply with a proposal to have a call and discuss everything. That’s how the pitching of our anthology took place — and at the end of it, Sean said he was in. Then he scheduled an in-person meeting in Cannes, where he was to present a film he starred in . We spent several days together there, signed the necessary cooperation agreements, and issued a release about our upcoming plans.
The news of Sean Penn’s participation in our project gave it a tremendous boost. Everyone who had still been hesitating immediately took a clear stance and got involved. After all, we now had an A-list American star on board. Later, when we were in the U.S., we saw firsthand how fiercely Sean was waging an information war in support of Ukraine. Few people truly realize that. It’s an invaluable contribution to our struggle. He is a genuine ambassador of Ukraine.
А. А.: You’ve earned a reputation as a producer who works not just with the best, but with the greats — Muratova, Iosseliani, Zanussi, and now Sean Penn and Zholdak. Do you have a special method for working with masters — your own set of rules, like Andriy Zholdak’s 700 rules? If so, how many points are in yours?
О. К.: I’ve worked not only with great masters but also with debutants. Though it should be noted that our greats — Roman Balayan and Kira Muratova — never sought public recognition; they made films with total self-devotion. Brilliant films. And during the Soviet era of censorship, their works were more often hidden on archive shelves than shown to audiences. That’s why many Ukrainian viewers later discovered their films for the first time. And I very much wanted them to be appreciated and understood not only by cinephiles — because this is our golden film heritage, our history.
At the beginning of the 2000s, Kira Muratova’s status, as you may recall, was quite marginalized. For most people, she was a difficult author whose cinematic language needed to be explained. So we organized premieres, round tables, conferences, and special screenings to restore her to the pantheon of national geniuses. As for Andriy — before rehearsals for Dom began, we held a seven-day master class and filmed those 700 Rules of Andriy Zholdak. During the same period, we also held the casting for Dom.
As for my personal rules… I’ve never really thought about it. But if I were to try to formulate them, they would probably start with an agreement with the author that we go through every stage of the project together — without exception. And to that, I would add mutual infatuation with the material. Without it, it’s impossible to even start. Those are probably the first two rules that matter most to me.
А. А.: You’ve mentioned the audience’s war fatigue several times. How would you assess the impact of the war on film production and theatrical life?
О. К.: I think war sharpens everything. When it comes to creativity, the shades of gray disappear — everything becomes more contrasting, more intense, more emotional, more precise. And when it comes to the production side, I see an enormous number of risks that could hinder the development of our national industry — and of culture in general.
А. А.: There’s a common saying that when the guns speak, the muses should be silent. What do you think about that?
О. К.: On the contrary — they must speak. Speak fiercely. This is the cultural frontline. Because the war is also being fought for values — for our identity, and for the understanding of who we are, where we come from, where we stand, and where we are going.
А. А.: In 2009, you said that the Ukrainian renaissance would begin when literature, cinema, and theatre became fashionable. That trend emerged in 2014 and only grew stronger in 2022. How would you assess the current situation? Has the Ukrainian renaissance happened — or not yet?
О. К.: I once said, half-jokingly and half-seriously, that culture is a violent act. And unfortunately, this interest — primarily an internal one — arose from a very painful, tragic experience. The experience of war. Not through a natural process. If not for the war, it’s not certain that our culture would interest us as deeply as it does now. It is the war that has made us aware of the need for identifiers through which we can present ourselves to the world — our language, our stories, our narratives, now captured in literature, theatre, film, and sculpture. So that we ourselves, and later our children, will know who we were at this moment.
One could say that we are now experiencing a cultural boom, but the renaissance has not yet come. It was tragedy, not maturity, that forced us to look into this mirror. It’s more of a reaction than a natural evolution. We’ve talked about two projects, but there are more: four documentary portrait films — three already completed, the fourth in production — and four more stage productions. Unfortunately, there is still no state-level strategy for cultural development, and neither political nor cultural elites have sufficient awareness or understanding of the importance of cultural codes. There are isolated initiatives from individuals who support and engage with culture. So no, it’s not yet a renaissance — more like a flash of light. We’ll be able to speak of a renaissance later — if we’re lucky.
А. А.: You’re one of the few producers in Ukraine who has worked for over 20 years primarily not with state funding but with private investments — including Western ones. What used to motivate private investors to finance films, and what motivates them to do so today?
О. К.: It’s hard to say. I always tried to be convincing — to present solid arguments and calculations. And of course, they could see that I was passionate about each project and that I was risking not only their money but also my own. At first, I worked with Ukrainian funding, and later began attracting Western investments as well. It’s a good question — why they agreed to invest. I think, in each case, it was either a big name attached to the project or the reputation of our company, Sota Cinema Group. Besides, every single film I produced became a notable event — earning recognition, success, and awards. And that success naturally attracted new investors.
А. А.: You’re an individualist — you’ve always worked somewhat on your own. Yet in your earlier interviews, you repeatedly emphasized that for the producer community to evolve, it needs communication and cooperation — producers must talk to each other and know how to reach agreements. A lot of time has passed since you said that. Has your view changed? Do you still believe that?
О. К.: Of course. But a lot of water has passed under the bridge since then. Twenty years ago, we were among the very few — if not the only ones. At that time, most producers in Ukraine were engaged in television content, not cinema. And that’s a completely different world, with entirely different rules. We were the first to start articulating some kind of production standards — for example, that the state should support auteur cinema capable of representing the country’s interests internationally.
Back then, auteur cinema was the only truly competitive field — the one where we had something to show, something we could be proud of. And everything was produced without any state funding whatsoever. Such funding appeared in significant amounts only after 2014. Over that time, a generation of filmmakers emerged who successfully represented Ukraine at major international festivals. Our films too were selected for the programs of the Berlin, Cannes, Venice, and Rome festivals.
If that had been supported by partners and the state, the effect would have been far more impressive. The people who were focused mainly on TV series production at the time, to put it mildly, didn’t understand us — and often openly mocked it all. But when the Russian market closed to them, they turned to domestic production. And here, there’s no source of funding other than the state. So, inevitably, they had to adopt the same practices we used. And the term «festival cinema» no longer provoked a smirk or open disdain. Understanding finally came.
А. А.: Another one of your quotes I’d like to recall today: «The fact that I’m from Ukraine hinders me more than it helps, because no one knows anything about us. We don’t exist on the cultural map». Does being from Ukraine help you today?
О. К.: Let’s not fool ourselves. Yes, for a while, the spotlight really was on Ukraine. There was a genuine desire among our Western colleagues to help and support us. After all, we are the victims of a barbaric attack — and victims must be helped. But that’s a kind of Paralympic scorekeeping. What has always motivated me is genuine competition. I don’t want to be the one who gets help out of mercy — I want to be an equal. I want my film to be selected not because I come from a country suffering a brutal war, but because I do my work professionally and make high-quality cinema. I personally have European — even global — ambitions. In 2019, I produced an independent American film, Give Me Liberty, which was screened in Cannes. And I fully intend to repeat that. More than once.
А. А.: It’s been seven years since Kira Muratova passed away. You seemed to have had the most tender relationship with her — at least, that’s how it looked from the outside. Over these seven years, what do you find yourself remembering most often? What do you miss the most?
О. К.: Our relationship was, above all, based on mutual respect. And that kind of relationship with an author — the kind Kira and I had — is what I miss the most today.
А. А.: You’ve been nurturing a major project dedicated to Kira Muratova — something like an homage, involving Western authors. Can you tell us more about it?
О. К.: Yes, it’s indeed a very ambitious project, meant to reinterpret her work — to rediscover Muratova anew. And not only in Ukraine, but in the world at large.
А. А.: You’re not ready to talk about the details yet — to name any names?
О. К.: In private conversations, I do share some details. But it’s still too early to reveal them publicly in an interview. Let’s wait until all the necessary agreements are signed — then I’ll be able to disclose everything and name the prominent figures involved in this project.
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