This doc introduces the world to Viktor, a deaf Ukrainian man trying to fight off Russia's invasion

When Olivier Sarbil went to Sirte, Libya, to document the 2011 revolution, the cinematographer not only documented the battles, but experienced the traumas of war himself. 

Shrapnel hit the French filmmaker while he was in the field filming. It blew off his right pinky finger and put him in the hospital for nine months. Sarbil's other wounds were so painful that he didn't even realize he'd lost hearing in his right ear. 

For years, Sarbil didn't tell many people about his single-sided deafness. He worried that it would mean he would lose work. To film or photograph war zones, you need to hear what goes on around you. 

Then, in 2022, the filmmaker met Viktor Korotovskyi, a Ukrainian deaf man who desperately wanted to help his country defend itself against the Russian invasion. Viktor, also a photographer, had experienced what Sarbil feared: the Ukrainian army refused to enlist him because of his deafness. 

After meeting Korotovskyi via a Facebook group for deaf Ukranians, Sarbil knew he wanted to make a documentary about him. Viktor follows the eponymous character as he finds a way to contribute to the Ukrainian war effort by becoming a volunteer army photographer. It also chronicles the man's day-to-day life as a deaf person, who lives with his mother and cat, while simultaneously showcasing his photography and exploring his grief for his late father. 

Viktor will premiere at the Toronto International Film Festival on September 8.

"As a filmmaker that lost part of his hearing in a battlefield, going back to war to tell the story of a deaf man became a deeply personal journey for me," Sarbil says. "I think he also mirrors my own struggle and how I was able to connect with my own challenge."

The filmmaker says he was "in denial" for a long period of time about his own hearing loss. "[The] film is actually the first time I'm talking about it."

Sarbil originally started filming Korotovskyi alongside a Ukrainian field producer and a sign language interpreter. But the war made it too dangerous to have three people on the ground, so the interpreter left for their safety. 

Instead, Sarbil spoke with Korotovskyi through hand gestures, visual aids, basic sign language and Google Translate (when internet connection permitted). Korotovskyi would talk to the camera in his native Ukrainian, and the filmmaker — who does not speak the language — wouldn't have any idea what his subject had said until he got into an editing suite with a Ukrainian interpreter. 

"I think the sign language [interpreter] … was taking away [from] my connection with Viktor," Sarbil says. "That's what happens sometimes when you try to build that very strong connection with a contributor and you have someone in the middle."

Sarbil had a similar experience while filming his 2017 TV documentary, Mosul. The Emmy Award-winning film follows four young soldiers in the Iraqi Special Operations Forces in the fight against ISIS. Sarbil doesn't speak Arabic, so he couldn't understand what his subjects said while filming.

"It forced us to find tools to communicate," he says. "I believe that sometimes it helps to create an even deeper connection."

But Sarbil also did something new while filming Viktor: he didn't sit Korotovskyi down for interviews. Instead, he asked him to write journal entries about various topics, such as his relationship with his mom, deafness and even the meal he just cooked. 

The journals taught Sarbil more about Korotovskyi than he'd learned from documenting him for seven months. For instance, Sarbil noticed katanas (samurai swords) hanging on Korotovskyi's wall, but didn't think much of it. It wasn't until Sarbil read his journal entries that he learned how, from a young age, Korotovskyi's father had instilled in him the importance of being a fighter — a samurai. This is partly why Korotovskyi wanted to fight for Ukraine so badly. These journals led Sarbil to make samurai imagery and analogies a strong motif in the film.

Sarbil and his team condensed about 50 pages of journal entries down to a single page. They then recorded Korotovskyi reading the snippets aloud, and used them to narrate the film. 

"He's a great writer," Sarbil says. "I think it really helps the audience to dive into his inner life, into his inner world, with more intimacy than if I had done classic, more traditional interviews."

The film mainly consists of beautiful black-and-white cinematography showing Korotovskyi in his daily life. When there is sound, it's often muffled or quiet. This was done on purpose. Sarbil worked with Oscar-winning sound designer Nicolas Becker to convey how Korotovskyi hears the world. 

Becker worked on the sound design for the film Sound of Metal, in which a drummer starts to lose his hearing. The composer and sound designer worked extensively with Deaf communities to understand the sounds they hear so he could simulate their experiences for film.

For Viktor, Becker placed a microphone in a stethoscope, Sarbil explains, so audiences can understand how deaf people feel — rather than hear — certain sounds, such as the beating of a heart. Becker also put a microphone in a hearing aid, which Korotovskyi wears, so the audience can experience his muffled version of the world.

"The sound design is one of the crucial elements of the film," Sarbil says. "How do you really dive the audience into the inner world, into the inner life of Viktor, and also [help them] to understand what's happening in Viktor's body?"

Making this film has not only changed Sarbil's approach to filmmaking, but how he regards his own deafness as well.

"Our connection really gave me more confidence to be more open about it," he says. "I found Viktor — and maybe Viktor found me, too."