Pandemic Perspectives
Elizabeth Alpaidze
Hey Amarsanaa,
Greetings from Yerevan! I hope you're enjoying the Golden Apricot International Film Festival as much as I am. It's been such an enriching experience so far, and I wanted to share some of my thoughts and hear about your experiences, too. Yerevan has been an absolute joy to explore. The city's energy is infectious, and the local cuisine is delightful. And how amazing was our visit to the Parajanov Museum? Seeing the things made by the artist, whose filmography might have shaped my taste, was exciting and emotional at the same time.
The festival has been a fantastic showcase of global cinema, and I've noticed a significant trend that I was anticipating—the emergence of the COVID film wave. Global events often find their way into cinema, and it's fascinating to see how filmmakers are exploring the physical and mental struggles associated with the pandemic. I'd like to share my thoughts on three films I saw that flesh out this leitmotif despite their different backgrounds and stories.
The first is Felix Kalmenson's Gamodi. Kalmenson, a Canadian artist, is known for his works in various media, often exploring post-Soviet geopolitics in surreal and remote landscapes. The film begins with a captivating scene at a drag show, where the lights are up and the music is off, creating a palpable sense of anticipation. We then shift to Viktor, one of the performing artists, who is smoking anxiously while news of the COVID crisis ricochet in the background. This setup effectively captures the tension and uncertainty that permeates the whole film. Gamodi’s intriguing cinematography more than makes up for its thin plot. Kalmenson's background as a multimedia artist is evident as he relies heavily on visual storytelling, using striking imagery to convey emotions and themes. The scenes linger, drawing the viewer into the existential fog shared by its characters as they navigate the eerie, half-finished buildings and lonely streets of Tbilisi. The loneliness and isolation of these wanderers are palpable, reflecting not only the seclusion of the queer community and the country’s harsh economic conditions, but also the profound impact of the pandemic and social distancing. Gamodi encapsulates the haunting stillness and introspective silence of life during lockdown, making it a poignant and thought-provoking cinematic experience.
I also watched Guto Parente's "A Strange Path," which follows David, a young Brazilian man who returns to his home country after living abroad for ten years. Although the film didn't quite meet my expectations, it still offered some intriguing elements. At first glance, it feels like a modern-day adaptation of the parable of the prodigal son, as it's clear from the beginning that David has unresolved issues with his father. The uncertainty and mental strain caused by COVID drive David to visit his dad in an attempt to mend their relationship. But that's when strange things start happening. The film exists in that liminal land between reality and imagination, but falls short of explaining how its fantastical world operates, which makes the journey somewhat inconsistent. Many plot twists are predictable, thus detracting from the overall impact. Despite this, there are aspects worth noting. The director blends experimental techniques with traditional storytelling, and the editing team (Taís Augusto, Ticiana Augusto Lima, Victor Costa Lopes, and Parente himself) does an excellent job of using contrast cuts, combining really fast scenes with more static ones, loud noises with silence, to create an unsettling atmosphere that mirrors the protagonist's feelings. While A Strange Path could easily be categorized as a horror or mystery film, it's easy to empathize with David as the film captures the emotional turmoil and fear that many of us have experienced during the pandemic.
Pitted next to Kalmenson’s and Parente’s films, David Boaretto's April in France is a stark outlier. The documentary follows the director and his four-year-old daughter, April, as they relocate from London to Paris just as the pandemic and lockdown begin. The film centers on April, who struggles to adjust to a new country, being confined to an apartment and having an unusual name for France. As restrictions ease, the father-daughter duo heads to the countryside, where they have inherited a house. It's here that little April begins to learn how to love France. Boaretto captures this journey with a simple style, sometimes reminiscent of home videos, and often shows the world from April's point of view, giving us the most candid perspective. The film reflects on how easily children and older people connect, reminds us of the morbid fascination kids sometimes have with death, and, most importantly, highlights the significance of families and how these influence our perception of foreign places. April in France offers a raw and personal glimpse into the world of a child, making it a touching and relatable exploration of family dynamics during these trying times. It's a compelling watch amid the festival's diverse lineup, standing out for its authenticity and emotional depth.
I can't wait to hear about the films you've watched and your thoughts on them. Did any of them particularly stand out to you? I'm eager to compare notes and discuss our experiences.
Enjoy the rest of the festival, Amarsanaa! Let's catch up soon and discuss the films we've discovered here in Yerevan.
Warm regards,
Elizabeth
Elizabeth Alpaidze
Hey Amarsanaa,
Greetings from Yerevan! I hope you're enjoying the Golden Apricot International Film Festival as much as I am. It's been such an enriching experience so far, and I wanted to share some of my thoughts and hear about your experiences, too. Yerevan has been an absolute joy to explore. The city's energy is infectious, and the local cuisine is delightful. And how amazing was our visit to the Parajanov Museum? Seeing the things made by the artist, whose filmography might have shaped my taste, was exciting and emotional at the same time.
The festival has been a fantastic showcase of global cinema, and I've noticed a significant trend that I was anticipating—the emergence of the COVID film wave. Global events often find their way into cinema, and it's fascinating to see how filmmakers are exploring the physical and mental struggles associated with the pandemic. I'd like to share my thoughts on three films I saw that flesh out this leitmotif despite their different backgrounds and stories.
The first is Felix Kalmenson's Gamodi. Kalmenson, a Canadian artist, is known for his works in various media, often exploring post-Soviet geopolitics in surreal and remote landscapes. The film begins with a captivating scene at a drag show, where the lights are up and the music is off, creating a palpable sense of anticipation. We then shift to Viktor, one of the performing artists, who is smoking anxiously while news of the COVID crisis ricochet in the background. This setup effectively captures the tension and uncertainty that permeates the whole film. Gamodi’s intriguing cinematography more than makes up for its thin plot. Kalmenson's background as a multimedia artist is evident as he relies heavily on visual storytelling, using striking imagery to convey emotions and themes. The scenes linger, drawing the viewer into the existential fog shared by its characters as they navigate the eerie, half-finished buildings and lonely streets of Tbilisi. The loneliness and isolation of these wanderers are palpable, reflecting not only the seclusion of the queer community and the country’s harsh economic conditions, but also the profound impact of the pandemic and social distancing. Gamodi encapsulates the haunting stillness and introspective silence of life during lockdown, making it a poignant and thought-provoking cinematic experience.
I also watched Guto Parente's "A Strange Path," which follows David, a young Brazilian man who returns to his home country after living abroad for ten years. Although the film didn't quite meet my expectations, it still offered some intriguing elements. At first glance, it feels like a modern-day adaptation of the parable of the prodigal son, as it's clear from the beginning that David has unresolved issues with his father. The uncertainty and mental strain caused by COVID drive David to visit his dad in an attempt to mend their relationship. But that's when strange things start happening. The film exists in that liminal land between reality and imagination, but falls short of explaining how its fantastical world operates, which makes the journey somewhat inconsistent. Many plot twists are predictable, thus detracting from the overall impact. Despite this, there are aspects worth noting. The director blends experimental techniques with traditional storytelling, and the editing team (Taís Augusto, Ticiana Augusto Lima, Victor Costa Lopes, and Parente himself) does an excellent job of using contrast cuts, combining really fast scenes with more static ones, loud noises with silence, to create an unsettling atmosphere that mirrors the protagonist's feelings. While A Strange Path could easily be categorized as a horror or mystery film, it's easy to empathize with David as the film captures the emotional turmoil and fear that many of us have experienced during the pandemic.
Pitted next to Kalmenson’s and Parente’s films, David Boaretto's April in France is a stark outlier. The documentary follows the director and his four-year-old daughter, April, as they relocate from London to Paris just as the pandemic and lockdown begin. The film centers on April, who struggles to adjust to a new country, being confined to an apartment and having an unusual name for France. As restrictions ease, the father-daughter duo heads to the countryside, where they have inherited a house. It's here that little April begins to learn how to love France. Boaretto captures this journey with a simple style, sometimes reminiscent of home videos, and often shows the world from April's point of view, giving us the most candid perspective. The film reflects on how easily children and older people connect, reminds us of the morbid fascination kids sometimes have with death, and, most importantly, highlights the significance of families and how these influence our perception of foreign places. April in France offers a raw and personal glimpse into the world of a child, making it a touching and relatable exploration of family dynamics during these trying times. It's a compelling watch amid the festival's diverse lineup, standing out for its authenticity and emotional depth.
I can't wait to hear about the films you've watched and your thoughts on them. Did any of them particularly stand out to you? I'm eager to compare notes and discuss our experiences.
Enjoy the rest of the festival, Amarsanaa! Let's catch up soon and discuss the films we've discovered here in Yerevan.
Warm regards,
Elizabeth