Et puis nous danserons

...to present and explore a story of prejudice and the resistance of out of touch traditions, mindsets and perceptions to an individuals right to be who they are. Beautifully orchestrated and choreographed, engaging performances all round, genuinely sincere, honest and believable (unfortunately).

If you want a different, warm, gripping and engaging drama - this is the movie! This heartwarming story from Georgia is a charmbomb. Incredibly well filmed with the storytelling taking place in Tiblisi. We follow a young man's encounter with his first love, in unfamiliar surroundings (at least for me). Great performances by these young actors make it both poignant and believable. I think the protagonist of the film clearly manages to show the challenges of being gay, in an environment that is clearly not ready for it. The film's message of what love and sorrow does to us is universal, but the place and surroundings this takes place in this film, lift it up and make it a special and touching experience in the cinema. Thanks to the Oslo Fusion Film Festival setting up this one, I hope it gets wide release worldwide. A warm recommendation from me.

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.

This was a look into a society that few people know much about in Western Europe. Georgia, despite being in Europe seems so far away and it is, in both geographical distance and attitudes.

Not only homophobia was on display here. I wasn't aware of the level of hatred and discrimination against Armenians there. The disgraced dancer Zaza's transgressions were made worse by their having been committed with an Armenian in Yerevan. When Merab's brother was forced to marry, disparaging rumours and gossip were spread about his wife's family possibly being of Armenian origin.

Then the homophobia. It seemed ingrained in Georgian society. Unfortunately the film didn't help in one respect. Apart from Merab and Irakli, the only other gay people portrayed were shrieking drag queens and stereotypical and dissolute gays and lesbians in seedy clubs. Many of the gay minor characters were portrayed as prostitutes. I admire the bravery of the film, but I think that this was a mistake

The dance itself encouraged masculine, hettie stereotypes too. At one time, Aleko tells Merab that there is no place for weakness or effeminism in Georgian dance, that all that was done away with fifty years previously. Nonetheless, the art form has engendered an interest in me and I'll be looking up some performances to watch online.

Merab's dance in the closing scenes was a tour de force, rejecting the imposed, ossified and constricting confines of traditional dance. It so scandalised the auditioner from the national dance group that he walked out, but the musicians and Aleko, as well as Mary, looked on fascinated.

I'd had this film for ages. I don't know why I hadn't watched it before. I think I'd been put off by the length, which was an hour and fifty three minutes. I needn't have been. I wasn't bored for a single second.

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.