The Berlinalle and an Armenian guy with a cardboard sign

2026-03-20 - 15:41

“A few days ago my social media was flooded with his pictures from the annual Berlin International Film Festival, usually called the Berlinale (held Feb. 12-22, 2026). Do you know anything about him? He looks Armenian — is he?” a friend asked, immediately sending screenshots of Instagram posts from various Berlinale attendees. One of them was a post by Indian film critic and writer Baradwaj Rangan. Everywhere, there was the same figure: a young man with long hair standing in festival crowds, holding a cardboard sign announcing he was seeking buyers for his film. His face felt familiar, but the recognition came slowly. It took me a few hours to realize it was the same young man who appeared in an ABC News article titled: “These young men fled Ukraine, but found a Europe far less welcoming.” He is also the same man who appeared in a Vice magazine article dedicated to an iconic eco festival in Ukraine, and who clashed with festivalgoers while attempting to protect trees from damage caused by the event. The contexts differed, but the figure remained curiously consistent: the same buoyant expression, travel-worn clothing, a vivid red scarf and an unguarded smile. And yes, he is indeed Armenian. Daniil Omelchuk, who often calls himself Oshakansky — a reference, he later explained, to his father’s origins in Oshakan — is of mixed Armenian and Ukrainian background. He is a film director and Armenian on his father`s side, who recently passed away. “This was his red scarf,” Daniil said when we spoke by phone. “I wear it often.” He offered this detail lightly, almost casually, though the object itself seemed to carry a whole different layer of emotional gravity. Daniil has visited Armenia several times. “Paradoxically, in Ukraine I was seen as an Armenian, but in Armenia, as Ukrainian,” he said. He spoke of the country with a mixture of affection and unfinished intention, describing ambitions that revolve less around documentary cinema and more on environmental initiatives and ecological preservation. Daniil Omelchuk holds a cardboard sign reading “Save Azov.” Now, he is in Berlin. His departure from Ukraine, he said, was something he had never imagined. Together with a friend, he crossed the Carpathian region on foot, spending several days in the wilderness with limited provisions. Food was scarce, sleep irregular and the journey marked by the constant risk of interception. Chased by police dogs and under threat of military patrols pursuing deserters, the two men survived the passage and found themselves in Europe. During the war, Daniil took part in volunteer initiatives, assisting civilians and homeless people affected by missile attacks, caring for abandoned animals and documenting events as they unfolded. Much of this material would later inform his documentary project. His first home in Berlin was a refugee camp, where he used recorded material from his life in Ukraine, including footage from his escape through the Carpathians. He later moved out of the camp, found an apartment and continued working on two documentary films. One of them centers on a young volunteer from Kherson deeply engaged in civilian aid efforts. Over time, the emotional and psychological strain led the character toward drug use. As Daniil described it, this reaction appeared to be a way to dull exhaustion and maintain functionality. By the end of filming, the volunteer himself had become someone in need of support. The story, one of many Daniil encountered during his volunteering work,remains deeply concerning to him. “I recently got a message from him saying he got clean. That was an emotional moment.” Daniil said., “War affects so many things — nature, the human mindset.” He strongly believes that detachment from reality — often caused by drug use — can gradually lead to detachment and a loss of responsibility toward it. During the days of the Berlinnale, guided by his desire for drastic change and moving forward with his projects, he appeared at the festival holding a cardboard sign. The result was something he did not expect. “First of all, I shared this with friends from my boxing club, and they offered to pay the 150-euro accreditation fee. That readiness to support me really gave me hope,” Daniil said. He added that during two days at the festival, he made valuable communications, received interest in his films and secured initial promises for development. Today he still keeps himself busy, slowly adapting to life in Germany and working on his films. His cardboard sign at the Berlinale — modest, improvised and disarmingly direct — made one thing clear: he has something to offer, and perhaps something to say. All photos courtesy of Daniil Omelchuk’s personal archive unless otherwise noted.