You know when you watch something and time becomes irrelevant and forgotten? This is that. I was so engrossed that I forgot films end, so when this did I was left stunned and lost in my thoughts for a while.
This film is like a warm, comforting, well-needed hug. It captures and encapsulates being young and free in the most realistic, effective and stunning way as it explores what tradition means for the modern youth.
Our main character, Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani), is sweet, soft and full of hope. The world of modern Tbilisi, Georgia is not made for him and yet he lives freely without being chained down by restrictions or ostracised by tradition. In fact, he embraces this world as it is his world. The historic and highly regarded tradition of Georgian Dance attempts to break him down, claiming he is 'too soft', but he proves (mainly and most importantly to himself) that he is indeed strong. Being 'soft' is perceived as vulnerable and weak - something not 'masculine' - when really it is what makes a person stronger. It makes a person a person! The final dance scene captures this notion and portrays it beautifully. Merab becomes so incredibly passionate and fiery that you become absorbed in the smooth sways and sudden strikes of his movements. His energy throughout the film - but most noticeably in this scene - has the ability to spark a feeling of adrenaline in its audience to love life as much as he does. An incredible and inspiring scene to end with.
The on-screen chemistry between Levan Gelbakhiani (Merab) and Bachi Valishvili (Irakli) is powerful and poignant. You innately develop a love for the characters with every facial expression and minute movements they make from timid twitches to grand, strong passionate dance. The actors - that Akin commemorates as being 'brave' - allowed themselves to freely explore the notion of saying everything while saying nothing at all. Many scenes had no dialogue which could elude to the fact that Georgian society does not address same-sex relationships in a positive light or even at all. But I just think: how can you accurately articulate feelings into words? It's more effective to show what a character is thinking rather than explicitly state it. One dialogue-less moment which I have been unable to stop thinking about is filled instead with music. The song 'Honey' by Robyn is the perfect accompaniment for Merab as he communicates his love to Irakli by dancing around shirtless. The lighting is especially powerful and in combination with the strong bass and beats of the song, this scene has an incredible indescribable feeling of freedom and happiness that seems infinite. Akin has encapsulated what is feels like to love life and be completely comfortable with who you are in a visually beautiful and deeply palpable way. I LOVE IT SO MUCH.
Young-adult relationships are portrayed impressively realistically. Many films are tempted by adult-created stereotypes of teenagers, but not here. To delve deeper, Merab's dance partner, Mary (Ana Javakhishvili), whom he has known since the age of ten is especially well-defined. I particularly want to point out her fascination towards her beloved fancy English cigarettes and how this is somewhat a metaphor for her character. On the outside she is seemingly rich, privileged and stuck up (I can stereotype because I'm English...), when in fact on the inside she is simply a normal Georgian girl. One that is flawed but also unconditionally loving and accepting. This is particularly evident in two extremely powerful long shots that start with Merab at a wedding party surrounded by people, yet so alone. Towards the end of this shot the camera looks down from a window at the physically minuscule and almost insignificant Merab stood by himself. It is in this moment of his extreme solitude that Mary appears and embraces him, allowing him to feel everything he's feeling and release it within her safe solace.
Levan Akin has successfully made the film self-aware and avoided stereotypes gracefully and with innovation. When a scene could potentially lean towards being 'cliché' (even if it is highly emotional and dramatic like tearing posters off a bedroom wall when giving up on dreams that feel unreachable), he adds a playful sprinkle of humour which ultimately keeps the film fresh and unique. This is an exciting and well-established professional trait for a director/auteur and I am so intrigued and excited for what Akin can do following this film.
'And Then We Danced' is a soft, playful but heartbreaking mirror on youth and how disapproving, condemnatory and ignorant past attitudes towards homosexuality remain present in modern culture.
Watch the trailer here!
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