Burning, from Kyrgyzstan

Is it a “jinn,” or is it Kyrgyz society? Even if it is the former, the superstition and sexism Kyrgyz women like Asel face can make anything worse. The question remains, what plagues Asel? The answers vary depending on her neighbors’ perspective in Radik Eshimov’s Burning, which is now streaming on IndiePix.

Tragedy has befallen Asel and her husband Marat, so their neighbors are doing what they do best: gossiping in the Kyrgyz equivalent of the local bodega. Everyone knew there was trouble in the family, even before fire erupted in their home. They agree things had been tense for a while, but matters really came to a head when Marat’s mother Farida arrived. However, they disagree whether Farida was an instigator or an agent of moderation.

Screenwriters Aizada Amangeldy and Dastan Madalbekov use a Rashomon-style device to retell the family’ descent into madness through three very different competing narratives. However, their Rashomon is not so very Rashomon-like. The film only consists of three half-hour versions of Asel and Marat’s “truth.” Somewhat naggingly, each “storyteller” also prompts untrustworthy flashbacks of events they could not have possibly witnessed firsthand.

Nevertheless, Eshimov nicely shifts the audience’s understanding of Asel and Marat over the course of the film. Aysanat Edigeeva and Kalicha Seydalieva both contribute extraordinary mirror image performances as the good and bad Asel and Farida. They also share one scene (realized two ways) that is amazingly disgusting and largely vindicates Burning’s billing as a horror film.

MSPIFF ’19: The Song of the Tree

This is the first movie musical to be produced by the nation of Kyrgyzstan, but it as archetypal as films get. There are two brothers, one of whom will make a prodigal return. Of course, there are also musical numbers and some striking mountainous vistas in Aibek Daiyrbekov’s The Song of the Tree, which screens during the 2019 Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival.

Esen is rash and a bit undisciplined, but he is not a bad lad. Unfortunately, Bazarbai, the clan headman, is dead-set against Esen’s romance with his daughter Begimai, even though they are very much in love. Instead, the shallow headman has been deceived into favoring the loutish Oguz, who has often bested Esen through cheating. It gets to be more than the hot-headed brother can stomach, so he tries to elope with Begimai. Unfortunately, Oguz and his lackeys track them down, bringing her back to her father and leaving Esen for dead—but not dead enough.

Alas, Bazarbai’s pride will definitely goeth before his fall. It will be hastened by the desecration of a sacred prayer tree. Initially, Ogun frames Esen’s brother Asan for its destruction and subsequently murders him to cover up his misdeeds. Yet, their livestock continues to die, so the clan banishes Bazarbai and his immediate family. Meanwhile, Esen learns how to fight and control his temper from a wandering warrior.

Like most movie musicals, the course of true love never runs smooth in Song of the Tree, but eventually fate will intervene. Esen will face up to his love and his rival—and sing a few songs. Even though there is a samey consistency of tone throughout the Song of the Tree songbook, these tunes are way more polished than most viewers might expect. Frankly, this film works just as well as a big screen book musical as did The Last Five Years or LesMiserables.

Although Esen is supposed to be our rooting interest, Omurbek Izrailov is upstaged and then blown off the boards by the more intriguing character of Bazarbai and Temirlan Smanbekov’s richer, more complex performance. Zholdoshbek Apasov’s music and Baktygal Choturova’s lyrics definitely exceed expectations. It all sounds quite expansive and heartfelt. Yet, it is cinematographer Akzhol Bkbolotov who really gets to put his stamp on the film, thanks to its wildly cinematic locations and backdrops. It looks and sounds terrific, so we can easily forgive its narrative predictability.

There probably hasn’t been this much singing around horses since the heyday of Gene Autrey and Roy Rogers. It also must have the record all to itself for musical numbers staged in yurts. Yet, it is all pretty universal and largely quite compelling. Recommended for fans of folkloric cinema and nontraditional musicals, The Song of the Tree screens this Sunday (4/7), Monday (4/15), and Tuesday (4/16), as part of this year’s MSPIFF.

SIFF ’18: Suleiman Mountain

History and religion have not been kind to Kyrgyzstan. They are still stuck with the trappings and infrastructure of the mid-1980s Communist era, while chauvinistic attitudes keep them from evolving into a modern society. The nation is overwhelmingly Muslim, but there is also a shamanistic tradition. Unfortunately, many now equate shamanism with fakery. Karabas and his first wife Zhipara are partly to blame for that. When they reunite, they start pulling some of their old scams together, much to the consternation of his new second life. There isn’t a sitcom on network TV that reflects this not-so modern family unit, perhaps because its long-term viability is not such a sure thing in Elizaveta Stishova’s Suleiman Mountain (trailer here), which screens during the Seattle International Film Festival.

When Zhipara finds her long-lost son Uluk in an orphanage, Karabas welcomes them both back into his unstable life. In the meantime, he also married the now-pregnant Turaganbubu, but polygamy remains an acceptable practice in “modern” Kyrgyzstan. She wants nothing to do with Uluk and Zhipara, but Karabas is fiercely loyal to his son. Yet, he is so gruff and generally irresponsible, he ends up crushing all the boy’s expectations. Frankly, Karabas is not much, but Kyrgyzstani society is such that both Zhipara and Turaganbubu believe they need him as a protector.

Named for the spiritually and geologically significant landmark, Suleiman Mountain takes viewers to an exotic locale, rarely seen in film, but gives them a distinctly gritty, hardscrabble view of life there. Everyone in Kyrgyzstan has it hard, but Karbas’s invariably bad decisions always make things worse. Despite his somewhat picaresque nature, it is often painful to watch his corrosive influence on the people around him. Yet, there is no denying the film’s raw energy and unvarnished honesty.

Asset Imangaliev is so believably self-centered and self-sabotaging as Karabas, viewers will want to pummel him, after only twenty minutes. Turgunay Erkinbekova similarly comes across utterly naturally as the confused and resentful Turganbubu. Yet, Perizat Ermanbetova towers above everyone as the weary but resourceful Zhipara.

S Mountain is the sort of film that feels very docu-like, even though it tells a fictional narrative. It is also a rather remarkable depiction of motherhood and parenthood, for reasons that are too complicated to explain. It has virtually zero commercial prospects, because it is not a film that files down rough edges or sugar-coats anything, but it very definitely invites viewers to walk in the shoes of people very different from us. Recommended for anyone intrigued by the Central Asian Republics, Suleiman Mountain screens today (5/18) and Sunday (5/20), as part of this year’s SIFF.