Divorce is tough, even under normal circumstances. But for a Lithuanian executive, the timing couldn’t be worse—she decides to split from her husband just a day before Russia launches its full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022. How to Divorce During the War serves as my introduction to Andrius Blaževičius and is also the first Lithuanian film I’ve ever watched. The amusing and thought-provoking title grabbed my attention immediately, and it’s definitely one of the top films I’ve watched this year.
Set in Vilnius, the capital of Lithuania, we get a peek into family life in the largest city of the Baltic states. Vytas (Marius Repšys) is a stay-at-home dad juggling household chores while looking after their pre-teen daughter Dovile (Amelija Adomaitytė). Once a celebrated arthouse filmmaker, Vytas now finds himself creatively stuck and out of work. On the other hand, Marija (Žygimantė Elena Jakštaitė), a high-ranking executive at a content creation firm, is the family breadwinner.
Everything seems to be going fine for them until Marija tells Vytas she wants a divorce. This moment unfolds in a car while they wait for Dovile to finish her violin practice. Although Marija insists she’s been unhappy for a while, her husband appears completely oblivious, which feels pretty realistic since that’s often how it goes with couples who drift apart.
Blaževičius captures the scene with a straightforwardness, sometimes filming through the car windshield. He steers clear of over-the-top melodrama, yet you can definitely sense the tension and emotional turmoil as they sit in silence, grappling with what’s about to unfold. It struck me that there are very few close-ups in the movie, which seems intentional to create a sense of distance from the characters.
The morning turns chaotic as their phones and TV light up with news of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. Even though the military conflict isn’t directly affecting Lithuania, the country’s proximity and Soviet history make Lithuanians deeply anxious about the situation. There’s a chilling fear that if Ukraine falls, NATO-member Lithuania could be next on Russia’s hit list.
As they proceed with their separation, Marija and Vytas still hold a shared political view: they are strongly opposed to Putin’s Russia and the invasion of Ukraine. They help Ukrainian refugees in their own ways; Marija has taken in a refugee family and set them up in Vytas’ home office, while Vytas volunteers at a food bank and participates in a theatrical demonstration in a public square.
Vytas has to move back in with his elderly parents, who are what you’d call Russophiles, reminiscing about their days in Russia. They’re glued to Kremlin-backed, pro-Putin news about the war, and at one point, a frustrated Vytas grabs a ladder and attempts to destroy his parents’ TV antenna with a shovel. It’s a hilariously deadpan moment that made me laugh out loud, yet Blaževičius doesn’t shy away from the grim realities of war.
Like in most divorces, it’s often the kids who bear the brunt of the situation. This film illustrates that through the eyes of young Dovile, a keen observer who quietly witnesses her parents’ marriage falling apart while also facing her own struggles at school. She gets into a fight with a pro-Russia classmate, probably fueled by her frustrations at home. Although Dovile doesn’t express much, she understands more than she lets on about the real reason her mother wants a divorce.
The performances by the actors feel very natural and refreshingly not stylized, which aligns with the director’s realism style of storytelling. Jakštaitė and Repšys worked with Blaževičius on his previous film Runner, so they already have a good rapport. Adomaitytė shines in her debut role as Dovlie, and we really empathize with her as she grapples with her parents’ separation and the anxiety of an impending military conflict.
The film’s tone shifts between dry humor, sharp satire, and a subtly funny domestic drama. Blaževičius manages to strike a balance that feels seamless rather than jarring. The dinner scene with the refugee family is so painfully awkward at times that it’s hilarious. The contrast between everyday life and large-scale tragedy reminds me of Jonathan Glazer’s The Zone of Interest, which deals with the banality of evil. While the couple here outwardly supports Ukraine during the war, at the end of the day, they prioritize their own domestic life and emotional health over the surrounding turmoil. The moment when Marija loses it because the refugee family left her kitchen in disarray with dirty dishes really highlights her distorted sense of benevolence.
I appreciate that the film doesn’t take sides with the couple, showing them as relatable, flawed individuals who don’t always do the right thing. Vytas ends up hiring a prostitute during their separation, while Marija keeps up her affair with a female colleague who shares her zest for nightlife. Blaževičius doesn’t pass judgment on his characters; he simply presents them as they are. Marija’s office drama at Hungry Rabbit highlights how capitalism continues to thrive even with the threat of genocide hanging over them. Although she initially quits when the firm refuses to sever ties with Russia, the harsh reality of unemployment and the need to survive ultimately take precedence.
Props to Blaževičius for creating an indelible arthouse dramedy that’s uncomfortably relatable yet infused with delightful dry humor and straight-faced wit. How to Divorce During the War won the Grand Jury Prize in World Cinema at Sundance and is Lithuania’s official entry for the Academy Awards. It hits theaters nationwide today, and I can’t recommend it enough!
