Review by
Eric Hillis
Directed by: Elene Naveriani
Starring: Eka Chavleishvili, Temiko Chichinadze, Pikria Nikabadze, Anka Khurtsidze, Tamar Mdinaradze, Lia
Abuladze
Etero (Eka Chavleishvili), the 48-year-old protagonist of this
quiet Georgian drama from director Elene Naveriani, has
quite the dramatic beginning to her day. In the opening scene she
survives a near death fall into a ravine when the ground collapses
beneath her feet as she picks blackberries. Later that morning Etero
opens her shop and seduces married delivery driver Murman (Temiko Chinchinadze) into a sweaty shag on the shop floor, an act prompted no doubt by the
adrenaline rush of having almost met her maker.
We quickly learn this is a decidedly atypical morning in Etero's
undramatic existence. Far from sexually voracious, Etero has remained a
virgin prior to her encounter with Murman. Her day to day life consists of
running her sparsely filled shop, eating her favourite cakes and hanging
out with neighbours who belittle her with jibes about her spinster status.
Once a week she takes a trip to a nearby town, where she likes to hang out
in a cafe run by a young lesbian couple, whose progressive outlook
provides relief from the judgemental attitudes of the women of her
village.
Etero argues with such women that she's quite happy with her single
status, but they aren't buying it. For the first time in her life it seems
Etero may be doubting herself. Initially ignoring Murman's invitations,
Etero plunges herself into an affair, meeting him on secluded forest roads
and in motels in town, where receptionists smirk at the couple's
insistence on "two single beds," knowing all too well that they'll be
pushed together as soon as the lovers enter their room.
The influence of Finnish auteur Aki Kaurismaki appears to be writ large
on Naveriani's second feature. It has the same dry humour, the same
collection of glum faces that occasionally crack into smiles, sometimes as
a result of cruel mocking. It even shares Kaurismaki's penchant for
offsetting his dramatic drabness against a colourful production design.
Every wall in Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry is painted a blinding colour, as though the women of this village
are desperate to bring some brightness into their lives. They even insist
on dying their hair the same unconventional shades, and wear similarly
bright outfits.
The costume design cleverly makes Etero stand out as someone who either
doesn't care about her appearance or purposely dresses in muted outfits to
reinforce her insistence that she isn't looking to snare a man. At least
at first. The more she gives in to her feelings for Murman, the more
colourful her wardrobe becomes. The costumes tell us more about Etero's
true feelings than any of her words, which can't be trusted. Chavleishvili's performance is simultaneously alive and closed, forcing
us to work hard to figure out what Etero really wants from her life.
We're not sure if she really knows herself, and there's a sense that
Etero's lack of romantic experience is clouding her judgement. When
Murman plays a French chanson on the car radio as they drive to a motel,
Etero smiles, clearly impressed at what we suspect is a cynical,
rehearsed gesture on her married lover's part.
There's enough ambiguity in Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry to allow the viewer to draw their own conclusions about whether
Etero is finally being liberated by her late life romance or if she's
betraying her belief in enjoying life without a man. The movie ends with
Etero reacting to a life-changing piece of news in a fashion that leaves
us guessing as to how she intends to continue, and while Chavleishvili's challenging performance refuses to give us any answers,
we know things will never be the same for Etero now that her berry has
been picked from the comfort of its vine.
Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry is on UK/ROI VOD now.
