Stimulating cinema: Otar Iosseliani FilmFest Day 1

Film: April
Year released: 1962

and

Film: Falling Leaves
Year released: 1968

For my first FilmFest, I'm digging into some works by the great Georgian director Otar Iosseliani. And I'm really glad too, because Iosseliani's movies are opening up a whole new world for me. I have to say that before starting this blog and getting heavily involved in movie-watching, I'd never heard of him and I'd wager to say that even if you are student of film history, he might be way down on your radar. That's one of the neat things about this project--I'm always learning and there are wonderful new discoveries around every corner. The joy of finding someone new (to me) and immersing myself in their art and their vision is incredibly gratifying and rewarding.

Iosseliani was born in Tblisi, Georgia in the former Soviet Union on Feb. 2, 1934. The rest of his biography follows, courtesy of allmovies.com

He studied at the State Conservatory and graduated in 1952 with a diploma in composition, conducting and piano. In 1953 he went to Moscow to study at the faculty of mathematics, but in two years he quit and entered the State Film Institute (VGIK) where his teachers were Alexander Dovzhenk and Mikhail Chiaureli. While still a student, he began working at the Gruziafilm studios in Tbilisi, first as an assistant director and then as an editor of documentaries. In 1958 he directed his first short film "Akvarel." In 1961 he graduated from VGIK with a diploma in film direction. When his medium-length film "Aprili" (1962) was denied theatrical distribution, Iosseliani abandoned filmmaking and in 1963-1965 worked first as a sailor on a fishing boat and then at the Rustavi metallurgical factory. "Aprili" was finally released only in 1972. In 1966 he directed his first feature film "Giorgobistve" that was presented at the Critics' Week at the 1968 Cannes Film Festival and won a FIPRESCI award there. When his 1976 film "Pastorli" was shelved for a few years and then granted only a limited distribution, Iosseliani grew sceptical about getting any artistic freedom in his homeland. Following "Pastorali's" success at the 1982 Berlin Film Festival, the director moved to France where in 1984 he made "Les Favoris de la Lune." The film was distinguished with a Special Jury Prize at the Venice Film Festival. Since then Venice became a showcase for all his subsequent films. In 1989 he again received a Special Jury Prize for "Et la Lumiere Fut" and in 1992 the Pasinetti Award for Best Direction for "La Chasse aux Papillons." After the disruption of the Soviet Union he continued to work in France where he made the documentary "Seule Georgie" (1994) which was followed by the sardonic and allegorical "Brigands: Chapitre VII" (1996).

A key thing to remember when watching Iosseliani's films: They ran afoul of the Russian censors and were either banned outright or similarly restricted upon release. That, to me, is really mind-boggling in that there is nothing in these two films that would merit that. Granted, there is some symbolism that could be interpreted one way but of course it could be interpreted in others too. It just confirms (as if we needed any more at this point) the paranoia that was permeating the Soviet leadership at the time. If you are looking hard enough for subversion, you're sure to find it. And I am pretty certain that Iosseliani meant for his works to be taken at face value (although I'd be interested to know if this is not the case. Can anyone help out with a link or an article?)

Take the first movie in our Fest--"April." According to allmovies, the film was banned upon release due to it's "excessive formalism." I think this is party doublespeak for "we don't understand this so there must be something subversive here. Best to ban it." "April" though, is really a charming little film. It has a message that resonates across cultures and eras--don't get too caught up with material things. Remember what's important. Take joy from a lover's kiss, a tree or a sunny day. It's really a universal message but it's made more poignant perhaps by the setting (a depressed, run-down Tblisi).

As many other critics have noted, "April" is similar in style to the works of Jacques Tati (I've seen his "Playground" and will certainly do a future FilmFest on him one day.). There's little dialogue in the movie and what is spoken isn't subtitled (it's hardly necessary though; the characters are fighting with one another and what's being said isn't as important as what's going on between them. Instead, the movie focuses on astounding camerawork--figures moving about at all angles--and constant motion. It's like peering into a beehive; there's always something moving and objects or people that at first appear insignificant frequently become so in the course of a scene or two. It's really amazing, creative work and a style that's fresh and always full of enjoyment.

"April's" plot is simple--a young man (Tanya Chanturia) and a young woman (Gia Chiaqadze) meet and fall in love. Early on, their attempts at a simple kiss are constantly thwarted by passersby. When a brand new apartment complex goes up, the two move in. Alone in their bare space, they finally kiss and when they do it's magic! The lights come on, the water runs and the stove burners light--all from this one kiss. Life is good. But slowly the couple's idyllic existence changes as they are seduced by the creeping disease of materialism. It starts slowly--first a chair then a vase. Soon, their apartment is jammed with all types of furniture and gadgets (two vacuum cleaners!) Their quiet tender moments are replaced with quarrels and eventually they make the only choice they can.

By contrast, the feature-length ("April" runs for about 45 minutes) "Falling Leaves" is more conventional in terms of plotting and structure, but still maintains the characteristic Iosseliani touches. The movie begins with sort of a prologue as we see Georgian villagers harvesting grapes, making them into wine and enjoying the wine along with good food and fellowship. We switch then to the city, where two young men are on the verge of new jobs. Otar (Georgiy Kharabadze) is a by-the-book opportunist who is still living at home and is hilariously brow-beaten by his parents before going off on his job interview. Niko (Ramaz Giorgobiani) is a younger man with a lot of weight on his shoulders. He needs this job because he's now the man of the house and has a mother, grandmother and and four younger sisters to support. It's clear right away that Niko is a good boy, serious, kind-hearted yet very strong, earnest and principled.

The two land jobs at a wine collective. Otar quickly sets about on a course of trying to become a success by becoming Mr. Company Man. Niko, meanwhile, quickly endears himself to his co-workers by being their equal and by working side-by-side with them. Niko's status grows when he reveals his father's name (Alexander Nijoradze). His co-workers are sympathetic--Alexander who has apparently just recently passed was "a good man" and Niko is highly respected as his son. Otar and Niko vie for the affections of Marina (Marina Kartsivadze), who feels she is better than Otar but is too flighty for the serious-minded Niko. One of the more poignant parts of the movie comes when Niko realizes Marina isn't the person he thought she was (and takes a punch in the face to add insult to injury).

Niko takes a stand early on--it's time to bottle the wine from vat 49 (a strange number, would there be any connection with Pynchon's "The Crying of Lot 49?"). The wine is clearly subpar, yet for the sake of cost and efficiency, the powers that be want it bottled anyway. Niko refuses to sign off on bottling a bad product and is forced to stand firm. Eventually, with the help of the workers he has developed deep friendships with, Niko resolves his conflict.

Clearly there is symbolism here--the character Otar represents the staid, non-conforming bureaucrats, yes-men and lackeys without an ounce of creativity or passion in their souls. Niko represents the people and the inherent power we all have inside of us to do good for mankind. Along the way, there's comedy, sorrow and more of the Tati-esque moments and shots that Ioselliani excels at. Excellent film.