Et puis nous danserons

For director the one challenge is to shoot a film about LGBTQ issue and not to dramatize script, another is to take Georgian film about the same issue and do not express a enormous wave of aggression to homophobia and to catch the balance. If you ask me why I will answer: In Georgia plenty people are on the side of homophobia. From my point of view the main problem is that they think LGBTQ people are strangers, they live somewhere not near them, not in their families, not in their neighborhood or in the circles of friends. They think gays are some savage, immoral people without families or normal lives.

And then there is the movie AND THEN WE DANCED. Director is catching the balance, it doesn't show any aggression, it only tells that gay people are between us, as normal as anyone and we only need to face that and to be humane.

The film is kind and emotional. RECOMMEND! Maybe after watching this film people haunted by homophobia will rethink the issue.

There is no sexuality in Georgian dance. There is also no place for individuality, nor for weakness. There is tradition, there is pride for the country. And nothing more. Using the beautiful traditional male Georgian dance as a metaphor, Levan Akin's 'And then We Danced' explores themes of fragile masculinity and sexuality in a way that is refreshing, organic, and powerful. This gorgeously lensed film also offers tender and warm story about identity, self-discovery, first love and sexual awakening, led by an outstanding performance from Levan Gelbakhiani.

I have never seen a Georgian movie before. Because of this movie, I searched curiously about the protagonist's city, Tbilisi and Batumi, and was shocked by their beauty. In my impression, Tbilisi only has a dark underground printing house, or a mountainous drought like Afghanistan, and Batumi is unheard of. The photos recommended by Google Maps are as beautiful as the magic world, steep cliffs, vast forests, a cathedral with a history of more than a thousand years, and highly saturated buildings. I ca n't wait to travel to Georgia tomorrow.

There are many places in the movie that remind me of "Please call me by your name". The feminine male hero broke through the shackles of the heart through unlovely love, and the ending of the love is not so important. The difference is that one through literature and art, the other through dance art. The male dancer's dance is too beautiful, coupled with the thin and romantic look, people don't want to stop at a glance. The whole movie has a strong artistic temperament, photography, and lighting, which reflects the director's high artistic level. In addition to the rich natural and cultural environment of Georgia, the breathtaking Georgian national dance, I watched and regretted that I didn't have a life. In a country where music and art are part of everyday life.

Although the director is a descendant of Georgia grown in Sweden, the whole movie is not the ethereal and brisk style of Northern Europe, but the gloomy and aesthetic style of the former Soviet Union. It may be filmed in Georgia with the film, and with the heavy history of this ancient Caucasus country and with the Soviet Union. The complicated relationship is related; the mottled dance rehearsal hall floor reminds me of Jia Zhangke's "Twenty-Four Cities". More realistic than "Please call me with your name" is that "Please" is like a utopian castle in the sky. The two male heroes have no risk of livelihood. They just had a love relationship in a beautiful paradise; and this movie The male host Meribu (and the entire Georgia) is living in a forced environment. The dancer ca n't make a living, and has to go to the restaurant to work; the home often has a power outage, and the mobile phone will also owe money. In addition to survival, there is also his dance. The style contradicts the "national spirit" of the tough style left over by the Soviet Union, so it is not a question of appreciation. Meribu's talent for dancing is undoubtedly extremely high ("I will dance when I can walk"), but his brother pointedly pointed out, "There is no future for you", individualism will be bound by ideology; and in In addition, under the general environment of Orthodox Church and ancient traditions, homosexuality is also regarded as immoral, and the critics mentioned repeatedly that a homosexual friend was cruelly excluded from the mainstream society. Livelihood, career, love, there is no way out, what else can he do?

As the name of the movie says, I can still dance. When Meribu danced, he was immersed in his own spiritual world. At the end of the film review, he danced in a crimson Georgian traditional costume audition, which was a disdain for all these things. He has his own dance and his own spirit. I do n't know what the result of the audition will be, but in the previous paragraph, what my brother said when comforting the broken love Meribu is undoubtedly also a hope for the audience: "You have to go out and leave here." Just like the director himself, he left Georgia 's homeland Only when you go out can you look back and face up to what has shaped your core.

There's something pretty powerful about a story of gay sexual awakening put into the backdrop of a film that shows so many aspects of traditional Georgian culture. It was pretty courageous too, given the anti-LGBT conservatism that has a hold on the country. A young man (Levan Gelbakhiani) faces the challenges of poverty, a broken home, and chasing the difficult dream of becoming a dancer for the National Ensemble. He meets a rival dancer (Bachi Valishvili) and the two begin training together, leading to friendship and deeper feelings, which represent a challenge of their own.

I loved the glimpse into Georgian culture (dance, music, food, weddings, etc), and confess I would have liked even more of it. I also wish the dance sequences hadn't been as edited as they were - there is so much natural power and grace in these moves, and I think just holding the camera still at mid-distance for longer periods of time would have served them better. With that said, the real story here is about coming of age and gay in such a conservative country, and there the film shines. It exercises restraint by showing emerging love simply and honestly and not spending a lot of time mocking the homophobic men who menace at the outskirts. It does gets in a nice little dig in at the hypocrisy of the Orthodox Church by recounting the story of a priest responsible for "fixing" another dancer who had to leave the group because he was gay, and ended up having sex with him instead.

The cast is uniformly very good if not great, and couple of my favorite scenes were the moments with the sweet grandmas of both young men. Another is the touching moment between brothers, trying to reconcile the traditional path with nonconformity and still love one another. Lastly, the final dance sequence, showing grit and bravado but making it clear that he's personalized the dance, is stirring, and the film ends strong.

Never before in cinema have I seen a relationship in which I would so genuinely believe. In every word, move, look, gesture of Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani) I can see and feel an ordinary young artist struggling with self-identification and experiencing first love.

The idea of portraying gay romance in such a conservative country as Georgia could give the director Levan Akin many reasons to be moralistic and pretentious. Yet the end result is by no means like this. In every scene, every word, it is subtle, naturalistic, thought-provoking without any unnecessary preachiness. Opinions and feelings are conveyed through music and dance, which enables the film to achieve all its purposes in a delicate yet decisive way.

Akin does not portray Georgian society as something evil. As everywhere, there are people who hate, people who do not understand and people who support. 'And Then We Danced' is a meaningful masterpiece made by those who support not only for those who need the support, but also for those who do not understand yet.