April
Georgian filmmaker Dea Kulumbegashvili’s extraordinary confrontational drama centred on what women endure.
Image courtesy of BFI.
Early in 2021 I reviewed Beginning the first feature by the Georgian filmmaker Dea Kulumbegashvili and hailed it as a work which both technically and aesthetically was truly remarkable. She now offers its successor, April, and it is equally worthy in that regard, if not indeed superior. However, she also writes her own screenplays and April no less than Beginning is a work in which the storytelling often leaves one puzzled. Furthermore, if the style adopted is one bound to irritate viewers who like a clear straightforward narrative, there is an additional factor in play this time which adds to the fact that April will be too much for some audiences: the film is very deliberately confrontational. It includes a lengthy abortion scene and more briefly two showing childbirth. The first of these occurs in the opening minutes of the film and is so explicit that it may drive some viewers out of the cinema. That said, although I find its obscure elements somewhat frustrating, I have to recognise that the quality of the filmmaking is such that it is no surprise at all that April won the Special Jury Prize at the 2024 Venice Film Festival. Indeed, it confirms Kulumbegashvili’s place in the ranks of cinema's great directors.
What is quite clear is the fact that, taking its cue from contemporary life in Georgia, April is a film about the lot of women in today's world. Its central figure is an obstetrician named Nina played by Ia Sukhitashvili the actress who also had the lead role in Beginning. What happens to her in the course of the film provides a storyline which in itself could have been the basis of a far more conventional film. As presented here that gory birth scene at the outset (real, not simulated) is one in which Nina is in charge and is accused of malfeasance when the child is born dead. The complaint made by the father (Sandro Kalandadze) leads to the head doctor (Merab Ninidze) accepting the need for an internal investigation into what went awry. Nina, believing that she did nothing wrong but knowing the consequences of any adverse finding, requests that a colleague, David (Kakha Kintsurashvili), be the one to lead the inquiry. He had once been her lover but has gone on to marry somebody else. Even so, she feels that she can trust him to look after her interests. How this will work out and what the findings will be provides the through plot-line. It is also one which raises the question of the extent to which Nina is disadvantaged in this situation by being a woman and by rumours that she goes around performing abortions for those in need (while abortion is not illegal in Georgia it is suggested that rural villagers might have to go to Tbilisi to obtain one assuming that they could indeed afford it and that in any case public opinion is largely hostile to anyone opting for the procedure).
Although such a tale could be told in straightforward dramatic terms it is apparent from the very start that that is not Kulumbegashvili’s way. April opens in highly stylised vein with a long-held but distant shot of a strange naked humanoid figure, an image far removed from any reality. Seemingly incongruous sounds accompany this in the form of children's voices and we hear the name of Nina which could be a reference to the childhood of the film’s central figure who will later recall a very early traumatic experience involving her and her sister. But what we are to make of all this and not least the issue of what this figure represents remains an open question and it is certainly not an unimportant one for this same figure will recur and then be present in the film’s closing scene too. The advantage of opening the film in this way is that it gives Kulumbegashvili complete freedom since it puts us on notice that April is not to be thought of as naturalistic cinema regardless of those elements in it that are grimly realistic. That long-held opening shot also heralds one key aspect of the film’s visual style in that camera movement is often limited and comparable shots will abound subsequently adding to the film’s distinctive character.
Although it is what happened at the hospital that sets the plot in motion, a great deal of the film is concerned with the work that Nina does elsewhere. She is particularly sympathetic to us when dealing with a 17-year-old who, although married, is still a schoolgirl and talks to Nina of her fear of having a child when she feels that she is not ready for that. Nina willingly helps by offering contraceptive pills in confidence despite the risk attached to this initiative. But the occurrence which plays a central role here arises from her willingness to carry out abortions. We are introduced to a 15-year-old who is mute (Roza Kacheishvili)) and whose mother (Ana Nikolava) having become aware that the girl is pregnant turns to Nina for help. What ensues not only brings home the pain of abortion but also leads to circumstances which reveal how those who undergo an abortion can be made to pay for that decision.
Elsewhere in the film and in rather different vein we find the main narrative being abandoned for a time while we witness how Nina is prepared to meet her own sexual needs by picking up men when out driving at night. How we are meant to regard this as affecting Nina's character and outlook is less than wholly clear but two things are evident: first, that the film recognises that women need some form of sexual expression and secondly that if they try to take the initiative they may well pay a price (a worker whom Nina picks up (Beka Songhulashvili) accepts her offer of sexual services but later turns on her violently). This too is part of a society which remains patriarchal today and, in whatever form it may come, what women have to endure is the key focus of this film. It is certainly not by chance that earlier on we witness a tremendous downpour of rain and that there is a storm near the end. In Kulumbegashvili’s hands the natural world groans in an agony that expresses the suffering of women and puts it on a scale that brings to mind classic Greek tragedy.
Ia Sukhitashvili is a firm central presence but April belongs to its writer/director more than it does to its actors. She is certainly responsible for the obscurities which unfortunately build up even more in the last fifteen minutes. It would be perfectly possible to offer a straightforward ironic conclusion in which Nina is put under pressure and made to act as would best suit the authorities albeit at a severe cost to her own integrity. But instead the film is more cryptic especially in the way in which it brings back the humanoid figure who, having haunted Nina, now turns up in scenes with David which are difficult to decipher. However, my rating has to be higher than might seem appropriate in the light of this weakness because April contains so much that is compelling. The colour photography by Arseni Khachaturan is magnificent and makes this a film best seen on the cinema screen. For serious cinema enthusiasts there is also a striking novelty to be noticed in that the camera frequently stands in literally for Nina herself putting the viewer in her shoes since we hear her words but only see what she herself is observing (elsewhere intense travelling road shots feature the driver’s view but rather oddly sometimes turn away to observe the sides of the road). The handling of sound is great too: Matthew Herbert's music score is sparse but telling while throughout the precise use of sounds adds immeasurably to the atmosphere and tension. Unquestionably this is real art and, for those who take cinema seriously and are prepared to cope with the confrontational elements and with the film’s sometimes baffling obscurities, April deserves to be considered required viewing. No more stimulating work is likely to be seen this year.
MANSEL STIMPSON
Cast: Ia Sukhitashvili, Kakha Kintsurashvili, Merab Ninidze, Roza Kacheishvili, Ana Nikolava, David Beradze, Sandro Kalandadze, Tosia Doloiani, Beka Songhulashvili.
Dir Dea Kulimbegashvili, Pro Luca Guadagnino, Ilan Amouyal, David Zerat, Francesco Melzi D’Eril, Archil Gelovani, Gabriele Moratti and Alexandra Rossi, Screenplay Dea Kulumbegashvili, Ph Arseni Khachaturan, Pro Des Beka Tabukashvili, Ed Jacopo Ramella Pajrin, Music Matthew Herbert, Costumes Nicolozi Guraspashvili and Tornike Kirtadze.
Frenesy Film Company/First Picture/Memo Films/Arte France Cinéma/Golda Darty P4 SPRL/3 Marys Entertainment/Tenderstories etc.-BFI Distribution.
134 mins. Georgia/Italy/France. 2024. UK & US Rel: 25 April 2025. Cert. 15.
