
Berlinale Review: Timestamp Depicts a Tapestry of Suffering and Resilience Among Ukrainian Children
Ukrainian director Kateryna Gornostai's documentary, Timestamp, contains no imagery of warfare, yet the profound impact of Russia’s unjust invasion of her nation resonates throughout every expression and remark, highlighting the extensive devastation left in its wake. Filmed between March 2023 and June 2024, this heart-wrenching documentary examines the significant alteration in the lives of schoolchildren, teenagers, and educators across different regions of Ukraine. The cities are presented according to their proximity to the war’s frontlines, indicating those that have been completely obliterated. By not lingering on any one community for too long, the film creates a mosaic of suffering, resilience, and adaptability, illustrating the irrevocable loss of youthful innocence and amplifying a poignant protest against the brutal futility of Putin’s reckless aggression.
As the education system in the United States faces challenges from a newly established government testing authoritarian boundaries, Timestamp serves as a crucial reminder of the increased importance of education during conflict. Academic subjects like math, science, and language now coexist with lessons where children learn to recognize dangers present in their daily lives. For instance, a benign image of a teddy bear prompts applause, but when a picture of the bear attached to a rocket is shown, the children accurately identify the threat. This is a lesson that no child should ever endure, and Gornostai highlights how quickly shocking realities can become normalized. With schools being targeted or perpetually threatened by airstrikes, the dedicated educators adapt by establishing classes in underground subway stations or transitioning to virtual learning, emphasizing that education is not only crucial for intellectual growth but also serves as a source of stability and solace.
The most poignant segments of Timestamp delve into the deeply personal effects of such overwhelming, unfathomable changes on young minds. During a dance among classmates—representing a celebration of life, a tribute to those fighting in the ongoing war, or a brief escape from daily threats—the camera focuses on a despondent girl whose sorrowful expression reflects an inability to engage, her understanding of the never-ending trauma seemingly unreachable. Despite moments of silence, breathing exercises, and comforting embraces facilitated by the teaching staff, Timestamp profoundly illustrates how psychological trauma may never heal.
As the documentary shifts its focus to high school students, the grim realities of lost innocence come to the forefront, with graduates unable to envision a future filled with college aspirations or academic pursuits. Engaging in early military training and survival exercises, they learn to use firearms, establish pulses, and apply tourniquets. The film conveys darkly humorous irony in depicting how these young individuals should not be experiencing such hardships; one girl’s meticulously manicured nails hinder her efforts to correctly dismantle a gun. Others gain experience with drone construction, whose implications are vividly observed in recent documentaries like Porcelain War and 2000 Meters to Andriivka. A generation is being conditioned to fight a war to ensure their children’s future isn’t marred by similar struggles.
The film’s varied narrative style can feel disjointed, shifting to new stories just as viewers become accustomed to the previous ones. One could envision full-length documentaries on many of the communities Gornostai portrays; by presenting brief glimpses, a sense of repetition arises. Perhaps, however, this is the essence of Timestamp: every community in the nation is compelled to adapt their daily lives to contribute to a war they did not choose. Yet, as a speaker at a high school graduation eloquently states, “life doesn’t stop,” and Gornostai’s documentary powerfully reminds us that humanity will always discover a way to persevere, even in the bleakest circumstances.
Timestamp made its debut at the 2025 Berlinale.
Other articles






Berlinale Review: Timestamp Depicts a Tapestry of Suffering and Resilience Among Ukrainian Children
There are no images of conflict in Ukrainian director Kateryna Gornostai’s Timestamp, yet the profound impact of Russia's unjust invasion of her nation is evident in every expression and statement, alongside the immense devastation that remains. Filmed from March 2023 to June 2024, this poignant documentary captures the life-changing metamorphosis of school-age children.