“Not everyone agrees on what qualifies as a just war,” Prince Harry says in his Netflix docuseries about the Invictus Games. “But I think we would all agree on the damage that war causes to so many people.”
He launched the games nearly a decade ago for veterans working through those physical and mental aftereffects, and the five-episode “Heart of Invictus” follows different competitors from around the world during their monthslong training — including a medic from Ukraine who is captured by Russian troops midway through filming — and eventual participation at the games in the Netherlands last year. (The 2023 games begin this week in Düsseldorf, Germany.)
Instead of athletic prowess, the selection process is based on who needs the support and structure the most. Committing to the games means competitors are “focusing on an intention and a goal,” Harry says, “to keep the mind busy, to keep the mind ticking over and stretching the muscles, as opposed to sitting there and worrying about what happened in the past. That, for me, is the biggest piece to it.”
A wheelchair rugby player from England is made captain of his team, but he is unsure about it. He’s not worried about the physical challenges. “But mentally, I” — he pauses — “I don’t know how to talk in front of people. To people. I can’t stand up in front of a crowd and speak to them. I tend to isolate myself.” When his coach asked, “I didn’t really have a clue why anyone would consider me.”
A quietly charming cyclist, who lost his hands after being electrocuted, talks about the culture around disability in his home country of South Korea. Disabled people “live their lives inside,” he says. “They hide themselves away.” The games are motivation for him to do just the opposite.
A U.S. Navy veteran had his right arm amputated several years back. In order to compete in archery, he holds the bow with one hand and draws back the arrow with his teeth. His aim is steady and true. But his thoughts are racing. He is a charismatic bundle of energy and still has considerable nerve pain from his injury, but is also carrying the memories of an abusive childhood that has shaped his outlook on life.
These are moving stories and they are worth being told, of people opening up and publicly revealing vulnerabilities they once kept private. On those merits alone, the series is a success.
But it takes on a more complicated dimension whenever the focus turns to the aforementioned medic, Yuliia “Taira” Paievska. She has sleek, short blond hair and a personality that stands out, with a mordant sense of humor and a one-of-the-guys demeanor. Her circumstances are distinct from the others featured in the series. When filming begins, the Russian invasion is still several months off, but she sees where things are headed. “To rehabilitate myself, I need Invictus,” she says. “But war does not allow us to relax. It does not allow us to start a normal life.”
Her story is the most complex and we get a brief but meaningful glimpse into her life. It’s dehumanizing to treat Paievska’s fate as a spoiler, but it was widely reported in 2022 and I’ll leave it to you to decide if it’s worth researching ahead of time.
The athletes at Invictus are former military. The members of the Ukraine team are a notable exception. All are active duty service members and the games are a momentary pause away from that. Paievska is held prisoner in Russia during the games, so her adult daughter goes in her place to give interviews and amplify concerns about her mother’s safety in the hopes of securing a release. It’s a knotty and difficult experience for her — and it is wrenching to watch. Spectators around her cheer, while she swallows down the bile of her worry.
The head of the Ukraine team is also visibly stressed — about so much that is happening back home — but she’s trying to keep it together. It’s harrowing. Weeks earlier, there is shelling during a Zoom call with the games’ organizers and she signs off abruptly.
“I hope they feel welcomed,” Harry says of the team. “I hope they feel uplifted and energized because at the end of these games, they’re going to have to go back to a war zone. That worries me and that troubles me. There’s very little that we can do about that, apart from making sure that they have the most electrifying experience.”
There’s a sincerity of spirit here, but “Heart of Invictus” is conventional to a fault. We spend a few minutes with each person before moving on to the next, a mix of talking head interviews and footage at home, or at the gym training. This is a tried-and-true approach that allows the series to weave several stories into each episode and build momentum as it goes. But the filmmaking behind “Heart of Invictus” doesn’t feel particularly specific. The stories have immediacy, but that’s almost despite how they’re filmed.
Sometimes the best thing a documentary filmmaker can do is get out of the way. But the series, from director Orlando von Einsiedel and producer Joanna Natasegara, lacks stylistic and thematic ambition. It needs more ideas behind its feel-good intentions. It could stand to be a bit messy and dig below the surface. Instead, it has the look and pacing of countless other quickly assembled Netflix documentary projects. Trim it down to 20 minutes and it could work as a segment on “60 Minutes.” Streamers should really be giving more leeway and opportunities to filmmakers with sharper creative instincts than what we’re seeing now.
By the end, the games have a dramatic effect on the people spotlighted here. They’ve put themselves out there and soaked up the camaraderie and that experience seems to have left them with something concrete.
“For a long time, I was always trying to get away from myself,” says one of the veterans, gazing out at the horizon at dusk. “I spent a lot more time in the future and a lot of time in the past and brief moments in the now. But I’m at this crossroads now where I can’t just run away forever.”
“The Heart of Invictus” — 2.5 stars (out of 4)
Where to watch: Netflix
Nina Metz is a Tribune critic.