In Moscow, the ongoing war in Ukraine casts a long, often unspoken shadow across the city’s cultural and social landscape, shaping daily life and artistic expression amid increasing restrictions. Since Russia’s 2022 invasion of Ukraine, a climate of tension and censorship has taken hold, prompting many citizens to use euphemisms to refer to the conflict, while digital restrictions make access to the outside world difficult.

Commuters on the city’s packed subway trains frequently switch between virtual private networks (VPNs) to bypass Kremlin bans on numerous international apps. Meanwhile, parents navigate a schooling system tightly controlled by the state’s propaganda, with some students finding small ways to subvert the system—such as arriving late to skip mandatory classes. One school principal, speaking anonymously due to fear of repercussions, shared how students exercised a form of democratic engagement by petitioning for the addition of hot dogs in the cafeteria.

Experts describe Russia as deeply divided, reflecting a duality captured in the country’s double-headed eagle emblem. Nina L. Khurscheva, a professor of international affairs based in both Moscow and New York, described one “head” as aspiring to modern civil governance, while the other pulls the nation backwards toward authoritarianism and isolation.

The artistic community has been particularly affected. Hundreds of thousands of Russians, including prominent artists and entertainers critical of the war, have left the country. Among those who remain, many maintain silence or face criticism from exiles. The city’s most discussed recent film, “Pictures of Friendly Relations,” dramatizes this fractured environment. The film portrays millennial theater and film professionals coping with the departure of a beloved star but notably avoids directly mentioning the war. Instead, it conveys the pervasive sense of displacement and indirect censorship shaping artistic output.

Critics have acknowledged the film’s success in reflecting the current societal atmosphere—a time when open discussion of the war is taboo, forcing creators to navigate shifting, often unclear boundaries. Many artists and cultural workers, wary of reprisals, decline to speak on record, highlighting the oppressive atmosphere surrounding creative freedom.

Despite these challenges, independent artistic events persist. In May, members of the Boloto group organized an underground exhibition atop the Moscow Youth Palace, featuring provocative installations such as a carousel of scythes and a full-sized catamaran. The event, known as the Bolotnoye Biennale, purposefully distanced itself from state institutions and commercial galleries. Curators Olga Tumanova and Vasilisa Lebedeva noted that direct political statements are difficult under current conditions, prompting artists to rely heavily on metaphor and symbolism.

Theater also continues to serve as a subtle venue for reflection and nostalgia. A recent 90-minute performance inside a Moscow parking garage revisited a 2020 production of Thornton Wilder’s “Our Town,” which was abruptly closed in 2022 after its director, Dmitry A. Krymov, denounced the invasion and remained abroad. Actor Yevgeny Tsyganov’s portrayal recalled the city’s prewar cultural life, attracting a diverse audience that included high-ranking officials such as Central Bank chief Elvira Nabiullina and Channel One chief Konstantin Ernst. Ernst’s praise for the production underscored the contradictions in Moscow’s cultural sphere, where state-controlled media figures endorse artistic works tinged with quiet dissent.

As tensions persist, Moscow’s cultural scene exemplifies a society balancing fragile creative freedoms against a backdrop of repression and uncertainty.