France, Georgia, 29 min
With their mountains, hills and meadows, the landscapes of the Caucasus valleys are open books. The locals like to listen and talk. They read and act out poems, celebrating love and nature. Yet all this harmony, all this hope in the future, is broken by the sudden irruption of the present. A tale stamped by a ‘mise en scène’ that would also have pleased Straub and Paradjanov.
With their mountains, hills and meadows, the landscapes of Georgia's Caucasus valleys are open books. Gazing at them, from above or below, the inhabitants recall words that left an impression on them. They read books and act out poems, thus celebrating love and nature. All this harmony, however, all this hope in the future, runs the risk of being broken by the sudden irruption of the present. “In the Caucasus, rituals and prayers to the pagan deities are a daily routine. They write while walking, working, singing, sitting against a tree. My two protagonists speak and read poetry. The poetry of Vaja Pchavéla, Charles Ferdinand Ramuz and Baudelaire, poetry that speaks not only of love and nature but also explores concerns. Among weeping trees and cracked bells, we hear the noise of a coming danger, which forebodes a possible despondency”(MF). A tale inspired by great formal rigour, stamped by a mise en scene reminiscent of the political and poetic dialectics found in the films of Jean-Marie Straub. Luciano Barisone