Photo Credits: Bill Vergos and Rozalin Asgharzadeh

At a time when global headlines shift quickly and attention spans even quicker, filmmaker Mike Dorsey set out to tell a story that won’t let you look away. His latest documentary, Sisters of Ukraine, follows a powerful and deeply personal journey into the heart of a war zone—capturing resilience, sacrifice, and the quiet strength of those left behind. From the front lines of filmmaking to the front lines of a humanitarian crisis, Dorsey opens up about the risks, the revelations, and the unexpected beauty he found along the way. To find out more, read below.

Where are you based?
I am based in Los Angeles, CA.

What inspired you to get into filmmaking?
I grew up loving movies and thought it was a pipe dream until I graduated from college with a business degree, planning to go into advertising. But then I discovered that friends were making movies outside of Hollywood thanks to the advent of digital filmmaking, which made producing films much more affordable and accessible. I started making short films with a group of creatives in the Phoenix area, and about a year-and-a-half later I moved to Los Angeles to pursue it as a profession.

What inspired you to do a documentary about the Ukrainian war?
I as already following the war closely when I was introduced to an almond grower in California's Central Valley named Steven Campos who wanted to make a documentary about a group of nuns in Ukraine who were helping refugees. He knew about them through longtime family friends in Spain who were assisting the nuns. I jumped at the opportunity. All of my films are about subjects that I'm passionate about, but this was my first time getting to capture an important story as it was happening.

Sisters of Ukraine captures both the quiet intimacy of the convent and the high-stress journey across Europe. How did you approach visually contrasting those two worlds?
This was my first time filming a documentary in a cinéma vérité style with the story unfolding as we were filming, with no idea where it would take us. There wasn't a deliberate attempt to visually contrast the two worlds; it happened naturally. I hired a pair of Emmy-winning cinematographers in Terence Pratt and Jacopo Campaiola who had great instincts for capturing a story where every second would be unexpected. I wanted the audience to feel like they were right there going on this journey with us.

Were there specific visual references or films that influenced how you wanted Sisters of Ukraine to look or feel?
Absolutely! There were three recent documentaries that I studied before filming began: I screened Last Men in Aleppo, about the civil war in Syria, and Bitterbrush, about a pair of young women who are free-range cattle drivers in Idaho, for my two cinematographers to show them what I wanted to aim for. Bitterbrush is a great example of a film that's shot in a cinéma vérité without feeling rough — it's a gorgeous film. And then I watched Honeyland, which is another beautiful fly-on-the-wall style film although mostly shot with a mounted camera.

Documentaries in active conflict zones pose major safety risks. How did you and your crew prepare and stay safe while filming in western Ukraine?
I chose my crew in part based on their past experiences filming in dangerous environments. Terence has two Emmy awards for shooting Nat Geo's Life Below Zero in the Arctic Circle, in addition to shooting Swamp Loggers and other shows that are tough on crews, and my other cinematographer, Jacopo, had just won an Emmy for shooting Showtime's The Trade about Mexican drug cartels. Rounding out the crew, our sound mixer, Brian Curley, had worked on a couple seasons of Naked and Afraid in challenging jungle environments. They knew going into this that we wouldn't be in hotels most of the time, that I had no idea what the food situation would be, and that, of course, once we entered Ukraine we were potential targets in an active war zone. They understood the assignment and were eager to do whatever it took for this once-in-a-lifetime production.

Were there moments you had to leave out due to sensitivity, trauma, or safety concerns, either for the refuges or for security reasons?
One of the refugees we interviewed on the journey from Ukraine to Spain requested that we not reveal her identity because her husband and daughter were both fighting on the front lines. We also had to be sensitive about not filming the airfield that was literally next door to the convent we stayed at, for security reasons. Aside from that, I didn't hold back.

The film builds emotional intensity without feeling manipulative. How did you approach pacing and music to support the story without overwhelming it?
It's a delicate balance. Early on I knew I wanted to use a classical music score, and I knew I wanted to use Ukrainian orchestras. Most of the music in the film is by the National Symphony Orchestra of Ukraine and the Odessa Philharmonic Orchestra. I grew up playing musical instruments and loving classical music, and I knew it would elevate the story. I went through at least 1000 pieces of music to find the 11 tracks that appear in the film. And I relished slowing down the pacing and letting the story breathe, allowing for quiet moments, like the nun picking the sunflower in the giant field of sunflowers, which we never get to have in the fast-paced world of documentary television shows, where I do most of my work.

How did you gain access to the convent and earn the trust of the nuns and refugees? Was that a challenge?
The nuns' took a leap of faith and trusted us from the start, largely thanks to the fact that we were with two Spanish volunteers that they already knew well. The refugees that we traveled across Europe with were another story. I realized that there was a cultural difference between us; they were extremely camera shy and wary of us at first. I was told that in that part of the world, there is a fear of standing out or of being made to look foolish. Luckily, it was a three-day journey and once we got to know each other, they were actively waving for us to follow them and to talk about their experiences on camera.

Sister Christiana and her fellow nuns show extraordinary strength. What did their faith teach you, personally or creatively, while filming?
I had a religious upbringing, but I had never been around people who have chosen a religious life like these nuns. I had never seen people completely devoted to the service of others from sunrise to sunset. I'm not religious anymore, but I was struck by the sense that they were actually living Christ's teachings in a way that I've never seen in any church here in the US. And Cristiana is a sage and one of my favorite people in the world; we're roughly the same age but she seems so much wiser.

The film unfolds against the backdrop of missile attacks and the bombing of the Kerch Bridge. How did the unpredictability of war affect your filming schedule or safety plans?
Western Ukraine, where we filmed, had been relatively quiet for months. The Russian invasion had failed to take Ukraine quickly like the Russians had hoped, and the fighting had shifted to the eastern side of the country. When we arrived in Western Ukraine, life seemed very normal aside from the roadside bunkers with armed soldiers and police manning checkpoints. But the Kerch Bridge was bombed the night before we drove in, which enraged the Russians, and we ended up witnessing the beginning of these horrible nationwide missile and drone attacks that Ukraine now suffers on a daily basis. A power plant 19 miles from us was bombed. And we were staying next to an airfield, which was another potential target. I told my crew that due to the escalation, they could leave for the Romanian border and that I would stay and film for a few more days and then rejoin them, but they refused to leave.

Were there moments during production when you or your crew felt overwhelmed or emotionally impacted? How did you handle those moments?
On the first day that the bombings began in our area, we were locked down at a school that the nuns operate, and the building doesn't have a basement, so they crowded all the kids into a central room, which was the only room without windows. Our stress levels went up that day, but all of us are experienced documentarians; we're used to capturing extreme situations and human emotions. In the film, one of the nuns tells a parent over the phone that their child is safe and not to worry because the school isn't near any strategic targets, and I tried to imagine a parent having that conversation with their kid's school here in America.

Can you talk about one refugee family whose story particularly stayed with you?
There was a woman who was already living at the housing in Barcelona when we arrived with our group of refugees. She was from Karkhiv, which has been devastated by the war. She told me off camera that they endured daily shelling before she fled, and that every morning her and her friends and family would log onto Facebook and post "Still alive" and that's how they knew their loved ones had survived another night. It kept them going. I still get emotional thinking about that.

You worked with Emmy-winning cinematographers for this project. How did you approach the visual tone and atmosphere of the film?
On a technical level, we filmed with fantastic cameras and lenses, and I told them to film in a less compressed RAW format, which is overkill for most documentary projects, but I wanted the footage to be as high quality as possible. We weren't on the front lines with bullets wizzing by; I knew we couldn't get away with a gritty look. My crew had the instincts to look at an unfolding scene and to know exactly where to put the camera. And then I shot with a third camera myself, which I love to do when I know my crew has the basics covered because it frees me up to shoot like an editor and to look for little details that I know I'll want when I start cutting the film. And with my camera, I was lucky enough to capture the sunflower picking scene with one of the young nuns; in the film, it's 45 seconds without dialog and nothing but sunflowers, a nun, and natural sound. I showed that to my crew and I said to look for those quiet moments and to not be afraid to film wide, like your subject is on a stage. I think sometimes there is more humanity in silence than in speaking. Jacopo ended up capturing one of those moments between one of the nuns and a young refugee from Zaporizhzhia, and that shot became the film's poster.

Logistically, how did you team manage crossing borders with a large group of refugees and filming through multiple countries?
Everything was handled by the Acció Familiar Barcelona aid group that we followed into Ukraine. They had the connections to get us through the borders and made sure the refugees had the correct paperwork; just a monumental effort by their volunteers. When we first entered Ukraine, in the film you see a line of semi-trucks that stretches for miles waiting to enter Ukraine, and Eduardo, one of our volunteers, says those trucks can wait for days to get into the country. But in our case, as soon as the border guards learned why we were there, they expedited the process and we got through in minutes.

Did you face censorship, resistance, or bureaucratic delays during production, particularly while filming in Ukraine or transporting refugees?
We didn't have any issues, aside from the Ukrainian military showing up at the convent one day after a concerned neighbor reported us. I think there is a lot of sympathy for the refugees there and a desire to support anyone helping them. There was an added benefit of my crew and me being Americans, especially at that time because the Ukrainians loved us for supporting them. A Ukrainian soldier at the border requested photos with each of us when she found out where we were from.

What has the response been so far from early viewers or from the refugee community itself?
One of the most rewarding moments of my career was traveling back to Barcelona last year to screen the film for the Spanish aid group and a group of Ukrainian refugees, some of whom are featured in the film. We screened it in an amazing old theater with wraparound balconies, and I sat on the second level at the back with Mother Cristiana, our executive producer, and the two Spanish volunteers from the film. I remember the film ended, and there was just... silence. And I thought, "Oh no, they didn't like it" or that they are embarrassed. And then one person stood up and started clapping and it turned into a standing ovation, with all of them turning and facing us at the back and cheering, and I knew then that we'd gotten it right and we'd done their story justice.

What role do you believe documentaries play in shaping public empathy during global conflicts?
We've had several diplomatic officers from Ukraine and other European countries who've watched the film and immediately requested doing their own screenings. In their eyes, it's a tool to gain sympathy for these millions of refugees who've fled their homes. The challenge is always in marketing and making people aware of the film so they see it.

How has Sisters of Ukraine changed your perspective on conflict, displacement, or faith?
Most war films focus on the fighting and front-line heroics, and there's a place for that, but seeing the massive ripple effects that war has on entire populations; millions of people have been forced out of their homes. The refugees we traveled with are all women and children. The war is breaking their families apart, because their husbands aren't legally allowed to leave the country. Looking at the devastation that war brings, the battles are just the tip of the iceberg. It was inspiring to see these nuns in Ukraine actually live what the Bible preaches; I feel like that's something I haven't seen a lot of here.

Would you ever consider a follow up film documenting what happened to the refugees after arriving in Spain?
We've discussed it, and I would absolutely go back. Most of the refugees we traveled with spoke about the trip as being temporary, that they would return to Ukraine as soon as it felt safer. But I know that since then, some of them have started building new lives in Spain. I suspect a number of them will never go back, even though they love their motherland. I told my crew when we were in Barcelona that this is one way that immigrant communities start, and that I could imagine coming back to that neighborhood in a decade and finding a Ukrainian market and restaurant and small immigrant community there. In the shadow of war's ugliness, I think that's beautiful.

With Ukraine no longer dominating headlines, what message do you hope this documentary delivers to audiences who may have become numb to the crisis?
My hope is for people to get active. The war is still happening, people are still suffering. Just a few weeks ago, the Russians bombed an apartment block in Kyiv and killed nearly 30 people. The refugees still need help, and virtually every city and town in the US has a group that is helping by sending aid and housing refugees, so just look up those groups locally and see what you can do.

It has been a crazy past few years, and we suspect at least four more. How have you been staying positive?
I stay positive by keeping busy with projects and by traveling outside the US every chance that I get. I was just in Germany and France again in April to support a WWII documentary that I made years ago. Traveling gives me a broader perspective. There's a whole amazing world out there.

What is your motto in life?
Just Do It. When I started making documentaries two decades ago, I didn't know what I was doing. Now I do it for a living. Want to make a movie? Ignore any doubters, pick up a camera right now, and start filming.

To learn more about Mike Dorsey and Sisters of Ukraine, visit the links below
Sisters of Ukraine IG: https://www.instagram.com/sisters_of_ukraine/
Mike Dorsey Personal IG: https://www.instagram.com/themikedorsey

Through War and Faith: Behind the Lens of Sisters of Ukraine