Swedish filmmaker Levan Akin makes a big splash in Georgia, allegedly one of the most homophobic countries in the world, by filming a queer movie honoring his own Georgian heredity, which has roused many extreme-rightist protests during its sold-out screenings. AND THEN WE DANCED is about a young Georgian dancer Merab (Gelbakhiani), whose infatuation with a newcomer Irakli (Valishvili) plants the seed of an eventual self-awakening to embrace fully of his sexuality and flaunt the default virile modality imposed on every male dancer by the state-ruled dance school.
Set in the mode of a Bildungsroman, ATWD inevitably evokes similar gay stories such as Luca Guadagnino's CALL ME BY YOUR NAME and Francis Lee's GOD'S OWN COUNTRY, both released in 2017 and are extraordinary cinematic specimens, with which now Akin's film can be standing shoulder by shoulder, though less prominently. For one thing, by focusing predominantly on Merab's perspective, ATWD risks of losing half the luster of a heartfelt two-hander, as Irakli almost reduces to a cipher, albeit a very delectable one (on the eye level) , the complexity of his character is crippled by omitting his side of the emotional trajectory, as if the filmmaker doesn't dare to mine into the darker psyche of his, lest it would taint Merab's overall positive vibes, in hindsight, which is a disservice to this vibrantly shot, courageously spellbinding film.
Thus, during the big chunk of screen time we are following the ebbs and flows of Merab, and first-time actor Gelbakhiani gets the chance to bowl us over from the ground up, apart from his distinctive terpsichorean lissomness and confidence, he resiliently sustains as the beating heart of the movie, it is such an all-around performance that compels audience to totally breathe with Merab, feel every and each fiber of his emotion: a budding amorous tingling, an unsuspecting coup d'oeil, a besotted yearning and an aching pang of disenchantment, although what Merab experiences barely differs from any other stripling's first-crush-turn-disappointment routine (though Ana Javakishvili's Mary, whose beard designation is self-consciously underplayed in favor of the boys' entanglement),Gelbakhiani's committed investment and screen magnetism make his character head and shoulders over the multitude of his ilk.
In the directorial department, Akin flexes his muscles with an optimal aptitude in carving out steamy intimacy and unalloyed vulnerability, partly on the strength of DP Lisabi Fridel's nimble camera movement, over a well-trodden blueprint, unique indigenous elements are potently integrated, while social indigenous elements are potently integrated commentaries see the on the sidelines (Merab family's tenement dwellings, a footnote on the local trick-turning epicenes), but first and foremost, ATWD resoundingly reverberates as a crusading warrior, plunging its defiant blade into the omnipresence where masculinity is solely defined by a hidebound and rigorous notion, a heart-to-heart reconciliation between two brothers is just what the doctor ordered near the coda, for that purpose alone, ATWD is too good a gem to be overlooked.
referential entries: Luca Guadagnino's CALL ME BY YOUR NAME (2017, 8.9/10); Francis Lee's GOD'S OWN COUNTRY (2017, 8.7/10).
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