The Antique: To Be Georgian in Russia

It wrapped filming on-location in St. Petersburg the day before Putin’s illegal invasion of Ukraine. Consequently, it is likely to be the last foreign film shot in Russia for the foreseeable future (unless a Chinese production requests permits). Frankly, they did not receive a very warm-welcome, much like the Georgian characters it follows. In 2006, Georgians like Medea already faced discrimination and harassment, even before the mass-deportation. However, Medea finds an unconventional safe-ish space in Russudan Glurjidze’s The Antique, which is now streaming on Film Movement Plus.

Medea’s name is a coincidence. She never murders her children. Medea’s only sin involves antique smuggling into Russia. Even before the 2006 expulsions (which the EU Court of Human Rights ruled violated the Europpean Convention on Human Rights), Medea intuitively sought out under-the-radar living conditions. It turns out she could purchase a spacious but dilapidated flat at a surprisingly affordable price, but the other terms were unusual.

Like a Putin-era sitcom, Vadim Vadimich sells his title to Medea, but she must agree to cohabitate with him as her flat-mate. They could not be more opposite. She is a young Georgian, while he is aa crusty old Russian nationalist implied to have served in shadowy state security positions during his younger, more lucid years. However, it sort of works for a while, but bad things are brewing.

Salome Demuria lights up the screen as Medea, despite her quiet reserve. She is smart and even witty. Consequently, some of her best scenes come bantering with the disembodied voice of Manana, the owner of her dodgy antique “import/export” firm, who oversees the warehouse via surveillance cameras and speakers.

Likewise, Sergey Dreyden is quite poignant depicting Vadimich’s slow decline. Even subtitled, Leila Alibegashvili’s voice for the unseen boss drips with attitude. Plus, Vladimir Vdovichenkov stirs up their fragile flat dynamics in unpredictable ways, as Vadimich’s semi-estranged son.

First Look ’24: Limitation

There is a reason Putin thought he could get away with invading Ukraine. It is because Russia already got away with sabotaging a democratically elected government in Georgia. Zviad Gamsakhurdia was elected Georgia’s first president with 87% of the vote. Less than a year later, he was toppled in a coup orchestrated by former Communists and street thugs. Filmmakers Elene Asatiani and Soso Dumbadze show it going down in real-time, through primary video sources foraged from the internet in the documentary, Limitation, which screens during this year’s First Look.

It starts out triumphant and full of hope, as Gamsakhurdia’s campaign smoothly segues into a victory lap. Yet, simultaneously, the anti-democratic elements immediately started demonstrating on the streets, with a vehemence that quickly crossed over into violence. Western critics argued Gamsakhurdia’s nationalist rhetoric was not sufficiently inclusive towards non-ethnic Georgian minorities, but you do not hear any such arguments from the Russian-backed coup-instigators.

Eventually, Gamsakhurdia and his supporters barricade themselves in a government building, eerily paralleling the 1993 Russian coup attempt, but the results were different. All the footage was apparently recorded by eye-witnesses and bystanders, but two clips feature “behind-the-scenes” footage of Western journalists, recorded by third parties, rather than their camera crews. ABC’s Sheila Kast gets credit for asking the putsch-promoters a tough question, but Christiane Amanpour largely peppers Gamsakhurdia with “your-detractors-charge-you-with-this” style questions, basically recycling their propaganda.

Slamdance ‘24: On the Way Home

As late as 2023, the United Nations formally recognized the rights of ethnic Georgians to return to their homes in Abkhazia. Yet, nobody is out in the streets protesting on their behalf, because they were expelled by Russian-backed separatists. For years, they lived in large abandoned Soviet-era spa resorts, as viewers can see in Georgi Kvelidze’s shrewdly observant documentary, On the Way Home, which screens at the 2024 Slamdance Film Festival.

It is a strange place to grow up, especially for “Haiko,” a young boy living with his grandmother. His father died in the war, while his rarely-seen mother works in the big city to support her family. To her credit, she tries to call regularly, but for Haiko and his grandmother are mostly on their own, like most Abkhazian refugees.

The once-grand buildings of Tskaltubo have fallen into disrepair, but as we can see from archival footage, they were once grandly luxurious. Kvelidze cleverly emphasizes the point with superimposed “then-and-now” split-screens. These sequences also help differentiate the film from other socially conscious fly-on-the-wall documentaries.

The refugees have lived in Tskaltubo for years (officially, they are not squatters), but the beleaguered Georgian state is preparing to move them to permanent new homes. Of course, that sort of implies giving up any hope of returning to their Abkhazia homes.

The Knight in the Tiger’s Skin, Georgia’s National Epic Animated

Shota Rustaveli's The Knight in the Panther’s Skin is sort of like the Georgian Troilus and Criseyde. Like Chaucer’s heroic verse, it chronicles lovers separated by war and strife, but Rustaveli’s epic poem is arguably of far greater importance to Georgian literature than Chaucer’s epic is to English letters. It spans years and oceans, so it is maybe not so surprising the first film adaptation of the modern age is animated. If Prince Tariel and his beloved Nestan are not reunited, the good knight Avtandil will at least die trying in Mirza Davitaia’s The Knight in the Tiger’s Skin, which opens tomorrow in Los Angeles.

Rustaveli’s epic is often referred to as The Knight in the Panther’s Skin, but Davitaia’s film and his graphic novel before it drapes the knight in “Tiger’s Skin.” The tiger print must be slimming. It is definitely the same classic story. When we first meet Tariel, the Prince dutifully serves his king, whose daughter he ardently loves and is loved in return. When the king repays their loyalty by marrying her off as part of a diplomatic alliance, both react badly.

As a result, Nestan’s aunt angrily sells her into slavery, but is almost immediately overcome by such remorse, she commits suicide. Tariel soon sets off in search of his distressed love, but as the years pass, he also seemingly disappears from the world. It will be the herculean task of the brave knight Avtandil to find them both, before he will be allowed to marry his own great love.

It is easy to see many heroic archetypes Tiger’s Skin shares with other great epic poems, but Davitaia’s adaptation also expresses pronounced themes of martial comradery and manly fellowship. Eventually, it comes down to three friends storming a Dungeons & Dragons-worthy stronghold to rescue the Princess.

Davitaia’s animation incorporates rotoscoping techniques that are surprisingly effective. It intensifies the vibrancy of the colors and the contrasts between them. The exotic scenes of the various royal courts and palaces pop off the screen, almost like Peter Max paintings. The animation also conveys the chaos and intensity of the battle scenes, which have appropriately epic scope.

Toronto True Crime ’18: Hostages

It was a story Eduard Shevardnadze did not want re-visited. However, a play based on the controversial 1983 attempted Aeroflot hijacking became an underground hit in 2001, despite apparent attempts to censor it. Decades later, questions remain regarding the precipitous use of force and just who was really responsible for most of the casualties. However, there is no question the resulting trial was little more than an old school Communist show trial. The notorious crime and its punishment are coolly and dispassionately dramatized in Rezo Gigineishvili’s Hostages (trailer here), which screens as the closing film of the 2018 Toronto True Crime Film Festival.

Most of the twentysomething hijackers were either artists or physicians, who enjoyed some privileges as children of what we might ironically call Soviet Georgia’s middle class. In fact, Gega Kobakhidze, the real-life hijacker on whom the character of Nino is based, had just been cast in Tengiz Abuladze’s Repentance, which was banned for three years until it was finally granted a release as part off the Glasnost liberalization. Obviously, his part was recast.

The idea was not well thought out. The seven friends hoped to hijack an Aeroflot puddle-jumper bound from Tblisi to the nearby resort city of Batumi, so they could divert it to Turkey (imagine a time when Turkey was considered an environment of freedom). Using Nico and his fiancée Anna’s wedding party as cover, the co-conspirators were not closely screened before boarding. However, after that point, everything that could go wrong would go wrong.

Rather surprisingly, Gigineishvili & Lasha Bugadze’s screenplay downplays many of the contested issues swirling around the incident. Most of the casualties are depicted as inadvertent collateral damage occurring during the actual hijacking attempt, but many Georgians still have questions. However, there is a white-haired, very Shevardnadze-looking figure who cuts off all attempts at communication before they even start, sending in the Soviet stormtroopers instead. In any event, the faithful representation of the show trial is unambiguously damning.

Yet, nobody can accuse Gigineishvili of waving a bloody shirt. His film is clearly intended to appeal to the head with its rational dissection of this compounded national tragedy rather than the heart. Frankly, this is an unusually aloof and emotionally detached film that offers up practically no insights into the characters’ inner thoughts and driving ambitions. Still, Tinatin Dalakishvili manages to express Anna’s foreboding and remorse with quiet but devastating effectiveness. Iliko Sukhishvili is also quite memorable as Father Daniil (based on Father Theodore Chikhladze), the Orthodox priest who was conveniently associated with the hijackers, which conveniently allowed the Soviets to sweep him up as well.

Given the Soviets’ subsequent legal railroading and judicial homicides, Hostages takes a lot of chances by re-opening old, unhealed wounds in such a legalistic manner. Arguably, the Socialist regime gets the most even-handed treatment it could hope for, but its oppressive nature and downright petty nastiness still come through loud and clear. It is an imperfect film, but also a fascinating viewing experience. It also represents a rather adventurous selection for the Toronto True Crime fest, expanding their scope well beyond serial killers and stalkers. Recommended as an intriguing period production and a portrait of injustice, Hostages screens this Saturday (6/9), during the Toronto True Crime Film Festival.

Discovering Georgian Cinema: April Chill (short)

April 9^th is now Georgia’s official Day of National Unity. This film shows why. Everybody always assumed good old Gorby would never send in the tanks to crush dissent, but he did in Tbilisi. Hundreds were severely injured and twenty people died that fateful day, seventeen of whom were women. While many were beaten beyond recognition, CN and CS gas inhalation was the primary cause of death. One of the Soviet invaders gets a glimpse of the true warrior’s spirit in Tornike Bziava’s Clermont-Ferrand award winning short film, April Chill, which screens during MoMA’s ongoing Discovering Georgian Cinema series.

As several of the Soviet “soldiers” note, it was quite a nice day for their ruthless business. The enlisted men duly follow their orders, chasing democracy demonstrators into barricades, rounding up and beating anyone who looks suspicious. Like good Communists, most of the Soviets seem to enjoy the crackdown, including the focal character. However, the sound of a hand drum and rhythmic counting sparks his curiosity. Within a battle-scarred Soviet Brutalist building, he encounters a young boy learning to perform the traditional military-inspired Georgian Khorumi Dance.

He will learn something about dignity and determination from that boy, but it probably will not be enough to make a difference for his soul or the Georgian people’s immediate well-being. Chill is a brilliantly shot short film that viscerally captures the panic and abject terror caused by the Soviet shock troops. Giorgi Devdariani’s black-and-white cinematography is starkly arresting. He and Bziava frame the action in inventive ways that create jarring perceptual effects. Bziava also uses the imposing Soviet-era architecture to convey a vivid sense of place.

Although Chill is more of a director’s film than an actor’s showcase, there is no denying the fierceness of the young boy. He has the dance chops too. It only runs for a mere fifteen minutes, but it manages to say quite a bit with great eloquence. Sadly, it is also terribly timely. In 1989, nobody thought Soviet tanks would roll into Georgia, yet they certainly did. Afterward, nobody thought they would ever return, but they already have. Now it’s Ukraine’s turn. April Chill shows viewers just what that entails, in bracingly up-close-and-personal terms. Very highly recommended, April Chill screens with The Other Bank this Wednesday (12/3) and next Wednesday (12/10) as part of MoMA’s continuing survey of Georgian cinema.

Discovering Georgian Cinema: Blue Mountains, or an Unbelievable Story

Georgian book publishers were probably not amused by this portrayal suggesting they were mostly a bunch of self-absorbed loons, who lolly-gagged around the office, pretending they had read manuscripts they never touched. As a publishing professional myself, I can safely say: “no comment.” Initially, the Soviet authorities were what you might call “circumspect,” prohibiting director-co-writer Eldar Shengelaia from attending the international film festivals that had happily accepted it (despite his Party membership). Roughly thirty years later, with a freer, more enlightened government now elected in Georgia, Shengelaia will be in New York to present Blue Mountains, or an Unbelievable Story when it screens as part of MoMA’s latest film series, Discovering Georgian Cinema, Part 1: A Family Affair.

Soso has just finished his next novel, Blue Mountains or Tian Shan. Yes, it has two titles, like Melville’s Pierre: or the Ambiguities—a fact that constantly vexes the Director of Soso’s publishing house, when he remembers it. Soso will make the rounds, duly dropping off copies of the manuscript to staff throughout the office, all of whom are delighted to have it and pledge to read it immediately, including the Director.  Yet, each time Soso returns, he makes the same circuit through the house, getting largely the same empty promises. Meanwhile, only the mining engineer eternally waiting to pitch his collection of folk stories notices the cracks in the ceiling growing at an alarming rate.

Thirty years have passed, but Blue Mountains is as razor sharp as ever. It is a masterfully constructed satire, that repeats large tracts of dialogue, but the implications become ever more absurd as the seasons and circumstances change. Poor Soso does everything by the book (if you will), yet he can never jump through enough bureaucratic hoops.

Although Blue Mountains does not address politics per se, it is easy to see how an apparatchik could decide Shengelaia’s ruthless send-up of bureaucracy, paperwork, and meetings was just bad for Party business. Nevertheless, it eventually won several Soviet film awards (presumably because they had to give them to something credible). Evidently, even if you were a cultural commissar, the humor of Shengelaia and Rezo Cheishvili’s screenplay was still quite potent stuff.

As Soso, Ramaz Giorgobiani might be the greatest cinematic straight-man ever, perfectly facilitating the comedic chaos, while serving as a sympathetic audience surrogate. Gosh darn it, we would really like to see Blue Mountains or Tian Shan get published in the end, but don’t get your hopes up. Likewise, Teimuraz Chirgadze deftly modulates the Director’s madness, at times almost coming across reasonably, given the bedlam erupting around him.

The subtitles are absolutely no hindrance to a wickedly droll skewering of paper-pushery. In all truth, Blue Mountains is a masterwork of international cinema, bordering on outright masterpiece status. Shengelaia is also a fascinating figure in his own right, who had a long and tumultuous political career, leading up to his support for the Rose Revolution. It is an altogether fitting selection for MoMA’s Georgian retrospective and his presence at its initial screening there should be considered a real event. Very highly recommended, Blue Mountains, or an Unbelievable Story screens this Wednesday (9/24) and next Monday (9/29) at MoMA.

Discovering Georgian Cinema: Will There Be a Theatre Up There

When celebrated actor Kakhi Kavsadze states he came of age in a country that no longer exists, he perhaps should not speak so soon. Putin clearly has designs to reassert the USSR’s old spheres of domination and Kavsadze’s native Georgia was one of the first nations he trained his military crosshairs on. Yet, current events make Kavsadze’s reminiscences of the Stalin era even more poignant in Nana Janelidze’s documentary, Will There Be a Theatre Up There?! (trailer here), which screens during MoMA’s new film series, Discovering Georgian Cinema, Part 1: A Family Affair.

Kavsadze came from a long line of well respected traditional Georgian singers, as Stalin himself would attest. A letter from the dictator to his revered grandfather has a special place of irony in his family’s history. Kavsadze’s father was also an accomplished vocalist and choir-master, but WWII was not kind to him, or Kavsadze’s family by extension. The senior Kavsadze managed to save scores of Georgians POWs by organizing a camp choir, but such benign survival strategies would earn him the label: “enemy of the people.”

Through his words and occasional songs, Kavsadze revisits his early childhood years, paying tribute to his parents for enduring their endless tribulations. Technically, it all takes place in one location, but the hanger-like industrial building re-purposed as a film studio is remarkably versatile. Janelidze will often stage dramatic tableaux to illustrate Kavsadze’s recollections, which frequently seem to stir legitimate emotions deep within the grand thespian.

Kavsadze’s stories are about as personal as they get, yet they offer tremendous insight into the nature of the Communist system. Perhaps most telling is the episode in which a pair of KGB agents came to the Kavsadze home looking for an incriminating document, but tried to carry off their dinner table instead (fun fact: Putin was a veteran KGB agent).

Kavsadze is a forceful presence who truly commands the viewer’s attention. Likewise, Janelidze’s sparse but elegant approach gives rise to some striking images that often bring to mind Eastern European cinematic classics, like Wajda’s Everything for Sale. Despite its relatively short running time (fifty-five minutes), Theatre offers viewers quite a bit to take in. It is especially fitting that it had a special screening during this summer’s Odessa International Film Festival, since Georgia has been informally advising Ukraine how to respond when Russia invades their sovereign territory. Very highly recommended, Will There Be a Theatre Up There?! screens this Thursday (9/25) and Sunday (10/5) as part of MoMA’s upcoming Georgian film series.

In Bloom: Submitted By Georgia

It is the early 1990’s and teenaged Georgian Girls just what to have fun. Unfortunately, Georgia is not a very fun place, combining the rationing of Communism with the lawlessness of a rogue state. Nevertheless, two fourteen year old school chums will try to get on with their lives as best they can in Nana Ekvtimishvili & Simon Gross’s In Bloom (trailer here), Georgia’s official foreign language Oscar submission, which opens this Friday in New York.

Eka Khizanishvili is shier but perhaps wiser than her more socially confident best friend, Natia Zaridze.  Neither has an ideal family life.  For Khizanishvili, home is a cold place, where she is largely ignored by her contemptuous older sister and preoccupied mother.  Her father is conspicuously absent for reasons that will eventually be revealed.  In contrast, Zaridze’s parents are constantly battling each other, not so subtly paralleling the wider civil strife of the era.

Zaridze also has one too many suitors: the comparatively sensitive Lado and the knuckle-dragging Kote.  Unfortunately, in her social milieu, courtship is less about wooing and more about taking. Yet it is Khizanishvili who is more troubled by their expected gender roles than the more directly affected Zaridze.  There also happens to be a gun, a love offering from Lado, passing back and forth between the tweens.

To a large extent, In Bloom simple revisits the familiar working class angst some festivals never tire of programming.  There are no surprises really anywhere in the film, but it has its moments.  In a defining standout scene, Khizanishvili appeases her friend by dancing at her wedding.  While her movements are sufficiently correct to please the revelers, her penetrating eyes betray all her misgivings.  It might actually be too well staged and performed, because the rest of the film cannot match its power.

Still, Lika Babluani and Mariam Bokeria are remarkably expressive and convincingly natural as Khizanishvili and Zaridze, respectively.  They look and sound like impulsive schoolgirls, forced by circumstances to mature beyond their years.  They own the movie in full, even though the entire ensemble fit their roles like grubby, well-patched Communist era gloves.

Despite their deliberate pace, Ekvtimishvili & Gross are a tad unfocused, veering between gender and class-based issue dramas.  Babluani and Bokeria are both enormous young talents, arguably more deserving of the praise heaped on the Blue is the Warmest Color duo, but the narrative is simply too drearily familiar.  There are memorably elements here, but they never really come together.  For the Georgian expat community, it opens this Friday (1/10) in New York at the Angelika Film Center.