When she was asked to deliver a keynote on the effectiveness of international co-production and whether it was worth the bother, Made in Copenhagen MD Helle Faber’s first thought was that this would be the shortest key note ever. The answer would be ‘no,” she told the professional audience at Sunny Side 2026.
“Co-Productions are frequently full of frustrations, cultural differences, financial disparities, creative personnel that was not your first choice, logistic challenges, travel that does not align with today’s environmental ambitions, increased administration work, and money wasted on countless audits,” she said. “Not to mention, when you are the minority co-producer, you sometimes find yourself involved in films that never seem to end. It’s dragging on for years because the delicate producer is still looking for financing. or keeps re-editing the film.”
“The financial benefits that once compensated for all these downsides are becoming smaller and smaller, she added. “Twenty years ago, a co-production could close a financial gap in a financing plan. That is no longer the case.”
But sometimes, “on a very rare occasion,” co-operation across borders is essential. A producer will come across a project on which collaboration is essential “to make the impossible happen, where all the annoying practicalities become secondary because you share a higher common goal. Mr. Nobody Against Putin is one of those stories.”
Director Davis Borenstein brought some dynamic material to Faber only a few months after the Russian full-scale invasion of Ukraine. “Putin had expelled the Western press from the country, and the few remaining correspondents were operating under such severe restrictions that it had become increasingly difficult to understand what ordinary Russians actually thought and felt about the war. And there it was, the unique testimony embodied by a young event coordinator [in a Russian school] playing on a screen in front of me in my office in Copenhagen.”
“Pasha [Pavel Talankin] was a rebel who had had enough of the propaganda and militarisation taking place in his school, part of a system designed to supply Putin’s war machine with fresh cannon fodder for generations to come. Meanwhile, most parents and school staff simply allowed it to happen,” Faber explained the film’s premise. “Pasha’s job was to document with his camera that the school was following Putin’s directives and upload the material to a server at the Russian Ministry of Education. His first instinct was to quit. But then he realised he could make far greater impact by continuing to film.”
Through a secure line, and in complete secrecy, Pasha began to upload his footage to a Copenhagen server, and Borenstein and Faber began to speak with Pasha weekly through an encrypted channel.
“I was planning for Pasha’s escape, and David was planning for the film,” Faber underlined.
But secrecy was essential, and to protect Pasha’s security, Faber only reached out to funders and commissioning editors whom she trusted completely, and with whom she had worked before. “We invited DR and the BBC into the editing room and showed them 20 minutes of footage, making them promise that only the absolutely necessary, essential people within their organisation would know about the project.” At that point, the project was given the bland and generic title of ‘Generation.’ Footage was never uploaded. Instead, a USB drive containing the material was hidden in a potted plant in Faber’s office.
At that point, a co-production seemed out of the question, given the security concerns. “I simply did not dare taking the risk of applying for funding through systems that would allow too many people to learn about the project. For the same reason, Creative Europe and Eurimages were also out of the question. A single mistake, such as uploading a synopsis online, could have put Pasha in immediate danger.”
What’s more, Pasha had to be given safe refuge and the promise of a sustainable life after the film, were it ever to be completed. But every choice of country seemed fraught with danger. Even if they applied for asylum in Denmark he would likely have to spend years in an asylum centre while the case was being processed.
Fast forward a year, and Faber was at Krakow FF participating as an expert at a co-pro market when she bumped into an old colleague from 15 years previously – Radovan Síbrt from PINK in Prague. “After a couple of hours of non-stop talking, I decided to confide in Radovan. And then he said the revealing words: “I might be able to help.”
Síbrt knew a human rights lawyer at the Czech Republic with the right connections with an NGO, which in turn had the right connections with the Czech authorities. Faber underlined that even at this point, the film’s hero Pasha was still just an ordinary school event coordinator. “He was not publicly known as someone who opposed to the regime,” she stressed.
“This was how our collaboration began, out of necessity,” Faber continued of her decision to work with PINK. “Radovan and his wife, producer Alžběta Karásková, generally wanted to be involved because they thought they could help. And this was the backdrop of our co-production. A common goal to get this man out of Russia.”
“I knew that if I failed to get him out, or if Pasha decided at the last minute to stay, we would never be able to show this film to an audience. Thus, I had prepared myself for a situation where I would have to make the calls to all the contributors to explain that I had spent their money, but there would not be a film,” Faber further underlined her professional dilemma.
After considerable strain, worry and anguish, the arrangements were made. “To this day, we don’t know exactly how all the pieces fell into place, but somehow the right people connected with the other right people at the right time. A year later, I travelled to Istanbul to meet with Pasha and to collect his visa,” Faber said. “For the first time after more than two years of secret production, we felt confident that we would be able to share Mr. Nobody Against Putin with the world. I had managed to budget for two years of living expenses for Pasha, while our Czech partners had secured him an apartment.”
At this point, Pasha became fully involved in finalising the film, traveling to Copenhagen for the edit, and to Prague for the post-production and the recording of the score.
“However, after a few months, we decided it was time for him to apply for asylum in the Czech Republic. Authorities across Europe were becoming increasingly sceptical of Russian asylum seekers, and we did not want to risk his application being rejected,” Faber continued. “Because he already had accommodation and financial support, he spent only four days in the asylum centre, undergoing the required examinations and interviews.”
“The film had still not been released, so we submitted his case while simultaneously announcing the Sundance premiere, complete with links to the film and the artwork that Putin was certainly not going to like. Our two companies [Made in Copenhagen and PINK] worked closely together, sharing responsibility like parents around a mutual child.”
The film world-premiered at Sundance 2025, where it received a Special Jury award. “We had to leave Pasha behind, because his asylum case prevented him from travelling, but he joined the premiere via FaceTime, and we were all deeply emotional that we had made it this far. Apart from final deliveries and audits, this is where a normal co-production would typically end, but not in this case.”
The interest for the film was enormous. Journalists from all over the world wanted to interview Pasha, and more than 200 festivals wanted to screen it. The impact was equally huge, not only locally in Denmark and the Czech Republic, but in the European Parliament and at NGO conferences around the world.
“In June 2025, we began discussing the possibility of an Oscar campaign. It was an almost naive idea.”
The team had no money and no US distributor on board, and Pasha was still unable to travel freely to promote the film. “What we did have was a powerful film on an extraordinary, relevant subject. A strong title, striking artwork, and some remarkable publicists.”
The film was selected as Denmark’s official submission for Best International Feature, and it was also submitted to the Oscars within the Best Documentary category. “And not only did we now receive some funding from the Danish Film Institute, but our Czech co-producers were also able to use this momentum to raise campaign funding from wealthy supporters within the Czech Republic. Pasha received his asylum, and we began organising his attendance at the many festival screenings around the world.”
PINK’s Alžběta Karásková and Radovan Síbrt were upgraded to full producer status when the film was submitted, and the partners all worked as equal partners on the campaign.
“For six months, we attended events together, organised screenings and outreach activities, and held weekly strategy meetings while keeping track of every new donation and funding commitment,” says Faber. “In the US, we used Scandinavian House and the Czech Film Centre to set up free screenings for Academy voters. We would never have made it all the way to winning the Oscar without this strong collaboration between our two companies and between us as producers. As a result, both Denmark and Czech Republic received their first documentary Oscar.”
Did everything proceed without further difficulties?
“Of course not. When the pressure increases, frustrations arise on both sides. When people are exhausted, patience becomes short. Cultural differences that once seemed charming can suddenly become irritating, and personal ambitions can sometimes obscure the bigger picture. Now, several months later, we are still connected through our shared responsibility for Pasha. We no longer have funding to support him, but we are working on a new plan.”
“Trying to raise money so that he can continue travelling and sharing the film’s message that every one of us face a moral choice when confronted with something we know is fundamentally wrong. It is an important message in the times we live in. Times marked by growing polarisation,” she continued.
“We see how propaganda works in the schools of Karabash [Russia], but also how easily it can take root elsewhere. We could not have released the film if we had not been able to provide Pasha with a new life. And we could never have been able to promote it on this scale without collaboration with the Czech producers,” Faber further underlined.
“So, are international co-productions still worth it? If they are merely a way of patching together financing plans, maybe they are still just a necessary evil,” Faber answered her own rhetorical question. “But if they are all about bringing together different skills, networks, perspectives, and resources to achieve something none of us could have achieved alone, then I would argue that they have never been more important.”
“Mr. Nobody Against Putin could not have been made by a Danish company alone, nor a Czech company alone. It could only be made because people in different countries chose to share the responsibility, not only for a film, but for a human being,” Faber ended.
