穿行 გადასვლა(2024)
又名: Passage / 航程 / 航行 / Crossing
导演: 列万·阿金
编剧: 列万·阿金
主演: 姆齐亚·阿拉布利 Lucas Kankava Deniz Dumanli
类型: 剧情
上映日期: 2024-02-15(柏林电影节) 2024-03-22(瑞典)
片长: 105分钟 IMDb: tt27417166 豆瓣评分：7.3 下载地址：迅雷下载
简介：
- 莉亚是一名退休教师，她承诺要找到自己失散多年的侄女特克拉。她的寻找之旅将她带到了伊斯坦布尔，在那里她遇到了为跨性别权利而奋斗的律师埃夫林，而特克拉似乎比以往任何时候都更接近了。
演员：
影评：
导演兼编剧列万·阿金延续了上一部作品《然后我们跳了舞》 （2019）对性少数群体/边缘人群的关注，或者说，这部新片其实是从上一部的故事里长出来的。
为了找到自己的变性人侄女泰克拉，退休历史老师莉亚带着无业青年阿奇，从格鲁吉亚来到土耳其的伊斯坦布尔。
阿奇的家庭非常困窘，父亲脾气暴躁，听说莉亚要去伊斯坦布尔，他觉得找到了逃离的机会，谎称有泰克拉的地址。莉亚表面上冷峻古板，总是和人保持着距离，虽然住着大房子，但肉眼可见她的生活可能并不比阿奇家强多少，出发前还偷摘了邻居家的蔬菜。她当然猜到了阿奇在撒谎，但因为自己对语言不通的陌生城市的隐忧，她乐于多个机灵的帮手。
在伊斯坦布尔，他们住廉价旅馆，吃便宜的饭菜，穿梭在远离繁华的街巷。他们经历和看到的就是一副本地生活浮世绘。
电影采取双线故事平行推进，伊斯坦布尔一名变性人的生活也在徐徐展开，申请女性身份证，与男友约会，并即将成为一名律师。一男一女两个小孩每天在街头游荡，帮莉亚和阿奇带过路，翻垃圾桶，乞讨，某一次他们因为被人指控偷钱包被抓到警局，是这名准律师据理力争把他们救出来，他们是她朋友的孩子。
在异乡艰难求生的人们习惯了守望相助，尤其是变性人群体。当莉亚找到她们问询泰克拉的下落时，她们会敏感地开启防护机制——她愿意被人找到吗？
从开场阿奇父亲和莉亚的对话就能看到当地民众对“变性人”的看法，她们被当成家族的耻辱。泰克拉出走也是被父亲赶出家门，他们忍受不了村里的非议。当泰克拉的母亲也去世后，莉亚和泰克拉大概是彼此唯一的亲人。泰克拉的出走显然并没有改善他的生活，她找到了同伴，但依然要小心翼翼地活在别人的目光中。
莉亚在逐渐松动。她在阿奇面前一直很严厉，既有维持长辈的威严，又有对陌生小伙的冷漠，她甚至一度赶走他，但又很快转念，把他找回来，一起在餐厅吃饭。这时他们遇到了一个主动的格鲁吉亚大叔，给他们加菜，送莉亚玫瑰花，等莉亚上卫生间涂了口红出来，大叔却不告而别了。莉亚生气了，她说本来希望让大叔帮忙找人，这下泡汤了。她期待的显然不止这些。
电影的叙事诡计让观众误以为变性人准律师就是泰克拉，但其实她叫艾芙琳。她的勇敢、努力、智慧和对自己尊严的守护是电影里的一道光，她毫不避讳自己的变性人身份，也懂得只有变得更强才能保护好自己和身边人。
艾芙琳帮助莉亚找到了泰克拉最近生活的地方，但是她已经离开了，不知道去到哪里。莉亚翻着泰克拉留下的包，一件件地查看那些女性用品的镜头莫名的酸楚。
临行前，三人一起在一场晚宴上翩翩起舞。莉亚跳舞时展现出的放松、自信和风采证实了她之前的“自夸”，她年轻时一定也有很多自己的故事。
阿奇留了下来，准备在这里找工作。
当莉亚踏上返程的航船时，导演加入了一段幻想。
泰克拉和莉亚在伊斯坦布尔的街头相遇，莉亚来到泰克拉男友的家中，回忆着家乡和过往，泰克拉突然趴在莉亚腿上低泣。莉亚把积攒在自己和泰克拉母亲心中的愧疚、思念和爱，娓娓道来。
电影最后是一个长镜头，莉亚站在船头，环目四顾，迎风而立。
对于莉亚来说这趟旅程不虚此行，她穿过海峡，穿过岁月，穿过蒙昧，看到了年轻人，看到了亲人，看到了陌生人，看到了流动的人，看到了自己，看到了“人”。
这是一次看到未来的旅行，一次艰难而珍贵的“看见”。
“林尽水源，便得一山，山有小口，仿佛若有光。便舍船，从口入。初极狭，才通人。复行数十步，豁然开朗。”
一场寻找的旅程，一个随机的团队。一个寻找跨性别侄女的退休历史老师，一个想逃离原生家庭的闲散少年，俩人去寻人，另一条线则是在伊斯坦布尔奋斗的跨性别人权律师。起初我以为这位律师就是她们要找的侄女，但事实上也并不是。他们最后交叉，一些穿插，最后连接成了一段在性少数群体里的一段漫游。我们看到了世界的不同，看到了她们的处境，也看到了自己内心的需求。
我最触动的时刻是最后来自多方的拥抱和告别，和律师在街角的拥抱，和男孩在旅馆的拥抱，和想象的侄女的拥抱，最后一个人带着行李离开的骄傲昂起的头……我突然就感受到了“穿行”的目的。我们跋涉着走到另一片土地，用完全陌生的语言，了解自己曾经一无所知的团体，在这场穿行的过程里她渐渐接受了这个世界赋予她的另一处感受，穿过一切的过程之后，最后眉头放下，拥抱同伴也拥抱了自己。男孩在旅程中感受到了长辈的关心，律师也在过程里慢慢放下一些戒备。人与人的相遇交流实在是妙啊，让人流连在这些际遇的感受里，感受爱和自我。
我也很喜欢影片的音乐和中段女主的一段舞蹈，那个部分很接近她真实的自我，放松下来甚至想要享受一段艳遇，这也是放下的开始。而剩下的音乐贯穿着她的寻找和城市里的穿行，伴随着心理防线的放下和感受的同频。影片的节奏很舒缓，情感的流动很沉默，但却意外的很打动。我总能看到一些惦记人的长辈的影子，她们是爱人的，但同时也紧皱着眉头的爱，什么时候他放下眉头也就放下了一切。
导演上一部关于芭蕾舞的片子我也曾推荐过，很温柔，很细腻。这部影片也延续了这样的一个风格，非常温和。三条线的交叉来的很丝滑，其中作为引线的一对小兄妹也感受到命运的妙处，让我感受到际遇的神奇，也是一场命运的穿行吧。
Three Georgian films released in the third decade of 21st century, each hinges on an nonconformist female protagonist: a wife of a Jehovah's Witness religious leader whose faith and motherly duty start to crack in the wake of a fate worse than death; a perimenopausal spinster in a rural village belatedly chances upon an emancipating romance which threatens to change her entire mode of life and lastly, a retired teacher, teamed with a purposeless young man, looks for her long-lost niece in an Istanbul area dwelt by transgender people.
Dea Kulumbegashvili's debut feature BEGINNING is a proponent of slow cinema. Its camera remains static most of the time, from the opening gambit of patiently considering a mass session until it is engulfed in conflagration to the final, VFX-assisted gazing a surreal disintegration of a man's immobile body into nothingness on an arid land. Only for once or twice, Kulumbegashvili's camera stirs, gently, altering its subject. In particular during the sequences where Jana (Sukhitashvili, bringing something enigmatic to her role's docile sufferance), the said wife, is blatantly harassed in her own home by the visiting detective (Kintsurashvili, a dead-pan sadist packaged as a dishy dreamboat, talking about ambivalence and the danger of facile temptation...). Jana's compliance under duress is underlined by the unexpected change of the camera's angle, from her to the detective sitting on the coach and bossing her around, asking increasingly private questions about her sex life with her husband David (Oneli, also the co-screenwriter). Such change serves as a cue to sharpen a viewer's attention, which is mindful to be supplanted by stultification on account of the camera's relentless, self-designated passivity.
Jana's own passivity is exacerbated by a vesperal, alfresco ravishment at the hands of the detective, mercifully shot in a long shot, integrated with the uncanny natural environs. After the fact, Jana visits her mother, who, unwitting of what has happened, advises her not to come clean to David, which betokens the older generation's dyed-in-the-wool turning-the-other-cheek submission in order to sustain a peaceful appearance in a marriage (told through an aggravating anecdote masked as a cherished childhood memory). But by a strange quirk of fate (lacunae are part of the furniture in the film's ellipitcal narrative), David will get wind of Yana's misfortune. However, his reactions and consequentially, actions only occasions Jana's existential disillusion, not just to David, but also to a larger patriarchal egotism and cruelty, and to their religion. In the event, Jana refashions the choice of filicide faced by Abraham (echoing David's sermon in the beginning), as a radical and profound protestation of her inarticulate misery.
The camera's unwillingness to budge as an artistic choice often cuts both ways. On one hand, it facilitates precision in compositions and settings (a chink of light can be foreshadowed as a sword bisecting a child's body, for instance), strictly curtails what audience is permitted to see, and assumes an ostensibly objectified stance as if we are watching footage from a CCTV camera (albeit a highly styled one). On the other hand, such a modus operandi can be pretty wearing for audience and betray the filmmaker's authoritarian pretension, especially when every blocking, every gesture, even every breath of the actors tend to be consciously perceived as the outcome of a deliberate calculation. A film loses its spontaneity and thus, it has no vigor but a propensity of being unbearably didactic (Dietrich Brüggemann's 2014 film STATIONS OF THE CROSS is an anathema in this case). Thankfully, BEGINNING is shored up by Kulumbegashvili's peculiarly engaging observance of the mindscape of a woman's "beginning" towards rebellion and radicalism. It is a rude awakening for the world to reassess the whole system of the powers that be in our social, political and religious spheres where malaise and acedia is hard to dissipate.
BLACKBIRD BLACKBIRD BLACKBERRY is Elene Naveriani's third feature, nimbly shot in a rich and vibrant palette. Etero (Chavleishvili) is 48, single, runs a small store by herself after the death of both her father and brother in a jerkwater village. Her life in a rut is gingered up by her carnal knowledge with Murman (Chichinadze), a married teamster routinely proffers the goods for her store. Surprisingly, it is Etero who takes the plunge as the instigator to ignite their passion, with the intention to bid farewell to her awkward virginity.
In its opening passage, while picking blackberries, Etero almost falls off a ravine after being amazed by the sight of a rare blackbird. Later she imagines her own drowning, which signals a latent urge to bring herself out of her status quo. So after losing her virginity, Etero is slowly taken by her courteous paramour. They exchange texts on their phones. Etero loosens up and tells him about her past and the causation of her spinsterhood (another victim of patriarchal repression and passive aggression, she is blamed by her father for her mother’s death by giving birth to her, but why oh why, a child shall never be reproached in such a tragedy, how could a fetus know?). The two carefully arrange their assignations out of the reach of the local scuttlebutt. Naveriani's film is a tender-hearted portraiture of a lonesome woman's inchoate feeling of loving and being loved, without any hidden agenda, except some contretemps.
When their affair turns more serious, as Murman finally proposes to start a new life together with her in Turkey, and that becomes the deal breaker. Etero might take a fancy of changing her monotonous existence, yet it shall never encroach on her independence. She has fully envisaged her future after retirement, settling down with and taking care of another man in a new country isn't it, on which Etero really puts her foot down. That said, BLACKBIRD BLACKBIRD BLACKBERRY unavoidably plays a cruel joke on her in the end. Audience has no sooner suspected the patter of tiny feet than Etero dreads that something far more malignant might be growing inside her body. The final shot is a close-up fixed on Etero's face mixed with tears and laughter. An ambiguity suggests relocating to Istanbul with Murman might be the best option for her now. But what is anything but ambiguous is the overtone that for a woman, only her maternal responsibility could possibly overrule her innate yearning for independence. It is a sacrifice many a member of the fairer sex chooses to commit and Naveriani's film is level-headed enough to broach it but consciously leaves Etero's decision moot.
Chavleishvili, with her owlish eyes, dark eyebrows, frizzy curls and phocine figure, makes for an unconventional cynosure. At first glance, her Etero is kooky, even spookily assertive in her sexual maneuver, a type one might intuitively give a wide berth to. But in time, her softer side will emerge out of her carapace. Etero is understanding, compassionate and self-sufficient, not mincing words when being belittled, meanwhile she is also smart enough to insinuate her way back into the small circle of the local women after being ghettoized for her blunt remarks. When ensconced in the romance with Murman, she is well transitioned to be more reticent, receptive and tractable. It is not an exaggeration to proclaim that the film is preponderantly anchored in Chavleishvili's miraculously versatile ability to fully embody and balance Etero's ordinariness and idiosyncrasies.
CROSSING is Levan Akin's follow-up to AND THEN WE DANCED (2019), his queer-affirmative breakthrough. Here, queerness is again erected in the epicenter. Lia (Arabuli), a Georgian retired history teacher, is hell-bent on tracking down her transexual niece Tekla in Istanbul, and reluctantly allows Achi (Kankava), a young man escaping from the toxic family of his married elder brother, to tag along when he purports to know Tekla’s address.
Following the death of Tekla's mother, Lia is propelled by her monomania of fulfilling her sister's dying wish. But it is also her chance to reunite with her last kin, and offers an overdue apology for her generation's collective failure to support and protect their trans-offspring. Lia also forges a bumpy relation with Achi, who is determined to secure a job in the big city despite that he is wanting in Turkish. For Lia, the language barrier is much bigger. Even on the sideline, she can twig the insalubrious situation of the trans community. Yet, CROSSING doesn't dwell on its underside, instead sees it with rose-colored glasses, especially when the world as we know it is getting more and more belligerent, hostile and divisive, which has come to be a new trend of the queer cinema.
Paralleling Lia's border-crossing quest, a subplot revolving around Evrim (Dumanli, a graceful dame magnetically vaunts her otherness like nobody’s business), a trans-woman and a self-made lawyer who indefatigably offers succor to the marginalized and the downtrodden, is deceptively lead audience to believe she might actually be Tekla. So we are safe in the knowledge that their paths will eventually cross and an emotional reunion is down the road to warm the cockles of our hearts.
Emotional yes, and the two paths do cross, but a reunion doesn't materialize. Evrim is kind and helpful but Tekla's whereabouts turn out to be a needle in a haystack. Akin even fantasticates a fortuitous encounter to let Lia get her pent-up regret and remorse off her chest, which in turn, heartens her to continue her mission in the coda, hope springs eternal!
A tough-as-nail Arabuli stupendously conducts a commanding presence as Lia. Her schoolmarmish, stolid comportment cannot conceal her maternal consideration (despite herself, in time she will morph into a mother figure to the hapless Achi), a nostalgia of her youth (when she finally hangs loose under the influence, she scares off a hospitable compatriot and laments over her long-lost pulchritude) and a grievance over the opportunities she has missed out in her life (on which the film never expounds), for too long.
More appositely regarded as an apologue about generational guilt and repentance than a preconception-bucking curio about trans-community, CROSSING might wear its gender-neutral heart on its sleeve, but in the end of the day, it appears that it is youngsters like Achi and street urchins who are needier than the doughty, resilient transpersons.
Heralded by the triptych, centering on complex, uncharacteristic female characters and underscored by unique voices from women and genderqueer directors, a new dawn of Georgian cinema is definitely on the horizon. These films can be relished like a refreshing, invigorating, even rejuvenating nectar from a wondrous fruit that is endemic to Georgia's own fertile soils of creativity and courage, including the reassessment of its troubled history and the new-found confidence of marching into a more civilized future. Paraphrasing Isabelle Huppert’s recent proclamation in Venice, where Kulumbegashvili's sophomore film APRIL (2024) is honored with the Special Jury Prize, “I have good news for you, cinema is in a good place!”.
referential entries: Levan Akin's AND THEN WE DANCED (2019, 7.6/10); Dietrich Brüggemann's STATIONS OF THE CROSS (2014, 4.2/10); Luke Gilford’s NATIONAL ANTHEM (2023, 7.3/10).
English Title: Beginning
Original Title: Dasatskisi
Year: 2020
Genre: Drama
Country: Georgia, France
Language: Georgian
Director: Dea Kulumbegashvili
Screenwriters: Dea Kulumbegashvili, Rati Oneli
Music: Nicolas Jaar
Cinematography: Arseni Khachaturan
Editor: Matthieu Taponier
Cast:
Ia Sukhitashvili
Rati Oneli
Kakha Kintsurashvili
Saba Gogichaishvili
Rating: 7.3/10
English Title: Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry
Original Title: Shashvi shashvi maq'vali
Year: 2023
Genre: Drama, Romance
Country: Georgia, Switzerland
Language: Georgian
Director: Elene Naveriani
Screenwriters: Elene Naveriani, Nikoloz Mdivani
Based on a novel by Tamta Melashvili
Cinematography: Agnesh Pakozdi
Editor: Aurora Vögeli
Cast:
Eka Chavleishvili
Tamiko Chichinadze
Piqria Niqabadze
Lia Abuladze
Anka Khurtsidze
Tamar Mdinaradze
Ani Mogeladze
Giorgi Kartvelishvili
Rating: 7.4/10
Title: Crossing
Year: 2024
Genre: Drama
Country: Georgia, Turkey, Sweden, Denmark, France
Language: Turkish, Georgian, English
Director/Screenwriter: Levan Akin
Cinematography: Lisabi Fridell
Editors: Levan Akin, Emma Lagrelius
Cast:
Mzia Arabuli
Lucas Kankava
Deniz Dumanli
Nino Karchava
Levan Bochorishvili
Bunyamin Deger
Metin Akdemir
Tako Kurdovanidze
Rating: 7.2/10
退休历史女老师与想逃离原生家庭的闲散少年搭档，到格鲁吉亚寻找前者失踪的侄女。另一方面，导演还讲述了一个在格鲁吉亚奋斗的女性人权律师的故事。 观者吐槽中：本片以格鲁吉亚语、土耳其语及英语交织的叙事，不仅丰富了语言层次，更让文化背景的多样性得以展现。 导演通过一位寻找跨性别侄女的退休历史老师与一位渴望逃离原生家庭的少年的视角，缓缓展开一幅关于爱与归属的画卷。正如欧洲影评人所言：“《穿行》以独特的叙事手法，将不同角色的命运交织在一起，形成了一幅关于人性、家庭与身份的复杂图景。”这种多线叙事的策略，使得影片在讲述个人故事的同时，也深刻探讨了社会对于边缘群体的接纳与排斥。 片中的每一个场景、每一次对话，都透露出导演对细节的极致追求和对人性的深刻洞察。正如加州大学UCLA教授、欧洲著名电影评论家Bérénice Reynaud所言：“《穿行》以其迷人的叙事结构和深刻的主题探讨，展现了导演作为一个原创风格艺术家的独特立场。”
