062 REVIEW
Directed by
LEVAN AKIN
Starring
LEVAN GELBAKHIANI
BACHI VALISHVILI
ANA JAVAKISHVILI
Released
13 MARCH
ANTICIPATION.
A lot of unknowns with a
promising premise.
ENJOYMENT.
Every entrancing movement
will leave you in awe, never
wanting the film to end.
IN RETROSPECT.
A powerful, poignant message of
courage and self-acceptance.
pinning in dizzying circles of desire, Merab
(Levan Gelbakhiani) repeatedly stumbles
as he tries to land on his feet. The physically
demanding steps of Georgian dance consume his
every thought; it is only when the mesmerising Irakli
(Bachi Valishvili) steps onto the dance floor that
Merab snaps out of his daze. The two are opposites
who slot together effortlessly; Merab’s sharp features
compement Irakli’s broader shoulders as they orbit
each other in a rigid dance of repressed longing.
Levan Akin’s exquisite film follows Merab’s
determination to be in the National Georgian
Ensemble but with Irakli as a rival, choosing between
his head and heart is a form of choreography Merab
has not encountered before. Simmering sexual tension
brews as the two dancers’ bodies grow closer. From
the gracefulness of soaring limbs to the sharpness of
his turns, Merab’s movements are his own language
of yearning.
Akin makes no reservations in acknowledging
the homophobia present in Georgia and the nuances
of Georgian cultural identity. The incongruous
nature of Merab’s placement in Tbilisi alongside
ultra-conservative values makes LGBT+ visibility
all the more essential. Murmurs of deplorable
consequences faced by a gay dancer, previously in the
ensemble establishes the risk Merab faces. With every
flourishing moment of intimacy between Merab and
Irakli comes the fear of being caught.
Merab overexerts himself while attempting to
obey his instructor who demands his body must, “be
like a nail.” Any expression of softness is reprimanded,
for Georgian dance is “based on masculinity.”The young man has learnt to move across these
floors with straight muscles and a conservative veil
concealing his truth. Still, defiance swells within
him to resist traditional choreography. Conformity
promises Merab a future at the cost of reburying a part
of himself he only just unearthed.
Levan Gelbakhiani conducts his ballet-trained body
with both fragility and fierceness; he is nothing short of
a marvel, proven in one lustrous scene soundtracked to
Robyn’s ‘Honey’. Crooning lyrics accompany Merab’s
hypnotic movements, with a papakha (a wool wig-like
hat, traditionally used by shepherds) adorning his
curls and his body draped in a blanket of golden light,
he performs for Irakli’s eyes only. Blowing a cloud
of cigarette smoke, his desires are revealed by the
slightest of smiles. Transitioning seamlessly from
sequences of fast-paced dance to glorious tracking
shots lasting minutes, Akin masterfully handles every
moment with unwavering care.
And Then We Danced is revolutionary, not only
for its willingness to feature a gay sex scene in an
environment where the very notion of LGBT+
existence is condemned, but also for the essential
message weaved into every frame. Central is
Gelbakhiani's Merab learning to love himself against
the divisive backdrop of Georgian culture. Akin
exposes just how beautiful a reclamation of tradition
can be. This film is a precious feat embellished
with a daringly courageous and pensive reflection
of Georgian identity. The heart of And Then We
Danced beats to the rhythm of its own drum and
its echoing pulse is felt long after the credits roll.
EMILY MASKELLAnd Then We Danced
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