4.5 out of 5
The gritty, graceful and heartfelt film AND THEN WE DANCED is set in Tblisi, Georgia; but was submitted by Sweden, where writer/director Levan Akin now resides. This film feels intimate and individual, even if the saga of coming out has been “done before.” It’s visually rich, despite environs of struggle and decay. And the film is blessed with incredible performances by many first-timers, including passionate and fearless turns by first-time screen actors Levan Gelbakhiani and Bachi Valishvili in the lead roles. With a cast of mostly newcomers, I place blame squarely on the director for eliciting uniformly convincing performances from the entire cast.
Although homosexuality is no longer outlawed, there is massive intolerance. This is depicted in the film, but was also part of making the film — which was done with great secrecy and often with security guards. Screenings of the film in Georgia were often shut down by protesting mobs, or audiences had to be protected by police.
Set in the world of young dancers at an elite academy where aspirants to national dance companies train, we meet Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani), possessor of a superior dancer’s body and whose face brings to mind Mihail Baryshnikov. He lives with his brother David (also a dancer at the academy), mom and grandmother. He works in a cafe and dutifully contributes what he can to the household. When he brings home leftovers from the cafe, his grandmother scolds him: “They will think we are poor.”
Merab receives instruction from the hard-assed dance director, as well as venerated elder dance judges, that Georgian dance has become a desperate forum for masculine exhibition: no gracefulness, no sensuality, “Be like a nail.” One elder mentions that it used to be graceful, but that was changed 50 years ago — as if the demand for machismo was a safeguard against the rise of homosexuality in the West.
Enter Irakli (Bachi Valishvili), a young man who appears much more mature, until moments of youthful goofing betrays the illusion. With his muscular build, dark good looks, beard line and hairy chest, the newcomer’s masculinity fits what the dance director wants. Irakli is a more seasoned dancer than Merab, who initially resents the newcomer — who immediately captures the interest of the young women in the troupe.
The female dancers function much as a Greek chorus. Their chatter tells the story of a young male dancer who was caught having sex with another boy, beaten, then sent to a monastery. Periodically, they reveal more of that dancer’s fate. In that group is Mary, Merab’s supposed girlfriend, who gauges the mood and temperature of the troupe by the chatter. She is one of the first to warn Merab that he is treading dangerous territory.
When Mary becomes aware of the intrigue between Merab and Irakli, previous gay films would have turned her into a woman scorned or instant ally. Mary’s path is more subtle and emotionally genuine. Actor Ana Javakishvili, in her debut screen performance, is quietly incredible.
Writer/director Akin does a wonderful job pulling through a strong central thread of the story. When Merab is spotted leaving a gay club and word gets out among the male dancers, there is an honest feeling of menace in the glee with which they taunt him.
Merab’s final interactions with Mary, his brother David and Irakli set this film apart from its genre and bring closure to one of the most satisfying film experiences I’ve had this year.
AND THEN WE DANCED opens Friday, March 6 at Landmark’s Mayan Theater for one week. Visit www.LandmarkTheatres.com for showtimes.
