And Then We Danced is a beautifully tender film about queerness, masculinity, youth, and contemporary Georgia, which moved me deeply.
In the film, traditional Georgian dancing represents a conservative society, steeped in tradition and heteronormativity. Merab (Levan Gelbakhiani) struggles to dance within the rigid masculine expectations of his teacher, at the same time as he discovers his sexuality and falls in love with fellow dancer Irakli (Bachi Valishvili).
Long, lingering shots create an intimacy between the characters and the viewer and brings the city of Tbilisi to life. There is something of a grown-up Billy Elliot to this film, both in its content and kitchen-sink presentation. As a die-hard lover of Billy Elliot, this satisfied me greatly.
I was also happy to see how well the humour translated across from the original Georgian. As well as the subtitles enhancing the experience, much of the comedy is communicated physically. Gelbakhiani’s sheepish looks and subtle facial expressions were delightful — even without dialogue, he communicated a plethora of emotions with a sense of humour and was always a loveable protagonist. The pace of this film is often slow, something I generally struggle with, but its beauty captured my attention and kept me hanging on every shot.
Minor characters also contributed to a lightness in the film — a moment when a stranger on a bus tucks in Merab‘s collar was particularly joyful, as was Merab’s nosy and opinionated next-door neighbour.
The dance scenes were absolutely spectacular throughout. The effort of the dancers, alongside each precise movement, was stunning to watch. The presence of dance as a motif for an outdated, rigid mode of society, to subsequently be modified, was truly moving.
I also appreciated the contrasts between old and new, with traditional Georgian music interspersed with the likes of ABBA and Robyn. The cultural clashing between tradition and modernity is poignantly present at every level of the film.
An introduction to the film by Samizdat Eastern European film festival’s director and curator, Hattie Idle, informed us that musicians and choreographers had to be named as “anonymous” in the credits, and extra budgets had to be set aside to that the cast could flee Georgia if necessary. Although homosexuality has been legal in Georgia since 2000, its society remains deeply homophobic. This information heightened my experience of the film, making it all the more devastating and hopeful.
Image provided by Samizdat Eastern European Film Festival to The Student for press use.
