Review: Don't miss "And Then We Danced"
Sunday, February 23, 2020 at 10:00AM 
A man is a monument of strength, hard and unbending. A woman is a vision of purity, soft and willowy. For those who teach Georgian traditional dance, this binary is tantamount to a universal truth whose cosmic certainty must be supported by the choreographed bodies. But binaries are conventions fated to be broken by the messiness of being human. Merab, the protagonist of Levan Akin's And Then We Danced, is the element of humanity that breaks the convention and exposes its brittle frailty.
Merab's too soft to be a monument. He's too willowy to be the man of folkloric tradition. He's still a man, though, and a dancer too, one that trains to be part of the National Georgian Ensemble...
His body, sculpted into perfect musculature, refuses to bend to the demands of tradition, striving for a form of self-expression more attuned with its personal identity. And so, he struggles. And as with all dancers, he makes the struggle into a litany of choreographies, those performed for audiences and those performed more internally.
The dance of tradition and modernity is the focus. This dance moves to the tune of the world outside, its rhythm defined both by the slow pace of history and the feverish step of progress. Everyday Merab goes through the motions of this choreography, training in the art of ancient eras while exploring desires that, for many of his countrymen, represent the vices of modern time.
Enter Irakli, a new student in class who finally gives Merab a reason to perform desire for an audience of one. This outsider is like an inverted reflection of Merab. He's the monument that Merab can't be, with the loose confidence that the perfectionist protagonist can't fake. In a way, Merab wants to be Irakli but he also wants him, achingly so. Such wants are expressed in a ballet of averted gazes and casual touches, taunting flexes and seductive shows of erotic need. It's a pas de deux of the most dangerous kind since both men must dance for each other while keeping the spectacle invisible to those around them.
The world says this particular permutation of the dance of desire is forbidden. It says it with locker room jeers and violent rumors, cruel jokes and the like. Of course, when the world demands you don't dance, your foot will begin tapping away regardless. And Then We Danced tells the tale of this song, this rebellion born out of oppression and a need to be faithful to who we really are. The film thus takes the shape of an awakening that blooms from the inside until it reaches the outer world, exposing its transgressive colors for all to see.
If you wish that awakening to be painless you're destined for disappointment. No matter its beauty or its triumphant passages, Levan Akin's film never indulges in delusions of romantic perfection. Like humanity itself in all its convention-breaking glory, this is a messy tale. It fits and starts along the way, stopping for a dream of sexual fulfillment and then falling into a nightmare of rejection, losing the thread on a mournful wedding until it shines bright with an audition scene for the ages.
And Then We Danced is risky and unyielding, simultaneously chained by narrative formulas and always happy to buck their norm. Some unexpected scenes of brotherly conflict, for example, show us there's another dance being performed along the way, one about fraternal masculinity whose conclusion is never reached. The dances all mix and intermesh, making for what could be a chaotic experience if not for the elegant form of Akin's filmmaking, that's able to make a nuptial party into a procession of broken hearts, and the achievements of accomplished actors.
Levan Gelbakhiani plays Merab in a full-bodied performance, where the tension of shoulders and the turn of the neck can tell us more than a dozen monologues ever could. Even when he's standing still, some part of him is dancing for us, be it his wandering eyes or the line of a smile somersaulting into a grimace. He's also dancing with the camera and the audience. Akin shoots his leading man as if his body was a landscape of endless aesthetic possibilities, shifting focus making immobile limbs swivel between fuzziness and razor-sharp definition. In a film of many dances, it's only appropriate for the camera itself to be part of the show.
And Then We Danced, which takes place entirely in Georgia, was Sweden’s submission this last season for Best International Film Oscar. It's now playing in select US cities.
Reader Comments (11)
Such lovely writing. Thank you.
Just got back from seeing it. So beautiful and I kinda teared up when Robyn’s ‘Honey’ came on.
Gelbakhiani is truly marvelous, and the camerawork is his equal in litheness and musicality. Wish some of the narrative beats were less formulaic, though. Good film all around.
Saw it in Cannes last year and it's regularly been on my mind ever since. Great flick!
We've programmed it for our Spring LGBTQ film for Texas A&M's professional network (after Neon wouldn't give us PORTRAIT OF A LADY ON FIRE--Good luck getting that booked at the local Cinemark, guys!) I'm really looking forward to bringing it to culture starved small-town Texas queers.
Saw it last year at the AFI EU Film Festival and cannot stop thinking about this one. A really great film.
Aquila -- isn't the "Honey" scene perfect? I love this movie so much. Have seen it twice already and considering returning for round 3. Lovely review Claudio - especially what you said about the camerawork.
I really liked "And Then We Danced." It's formulaic, but it is nonetheless affecting and quite moving. Levan Gelbakhiani is a star. His face and body are so expressive. If the whole movie was just that "Honey" scene it would be the best movie of the year for me.
I've already seen it three times. It's such good filmmaking, and the performance from Levan G. is unforgettable and heartbreaking - he's in Timmy C land here in terms of a young man expressing so much desire in a repressed world. Thanks for the write-up!
Oh goodness, the film got me early on but had me at Honey (with its own personal connotations for me) and hit me seriously with the long shot from the wedding reception window.
The film was a lovely surprise, not just for introducing me to a country I knew nothing about. Thanks for featuring it here; it deserves to succeed.
I truly enjoyed the film as I wound up identifying with Ben Stiller's character a great deal as somebody who has gotten discouraged and has addressed everything he's done yet in addition what he hasn't done.
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