
Do you understand how laws work? You will have no more patients; you will not have a job. Even if you are not arrested, you will be ruined. If you want to work, you have to obey the laws. Sometimes, the law may go against our moral beliefs.
-- Head doctor of obstetrician/gynecologist at Nina's hospital asks Nina the gynecologist, who conducts free extra-curricular abortions for the poor and needy in rural Georgia
This Georgian (the country, not the US state with the same name) film will grip any cinephile exposed to rapidly evolving contemporary cinematic grammar from start to finish. Dea Kulumbegahivili's film expresses its narrative through visuals (fascinating cinematography of Arseni Kachaturan) and music (young award-winning composer Matthew Herbert) minimally relying on spoken dialog.
Early in the film, we see a mysterious inexplicable somewhat-human ash-colored grotesque figure from the rear without clothes, breathing heavily heading towards water-bodies in semi-darkness. Initially nothing is explained to the viewer except that the heavy breathing on the soundtrack resembles human breathing. Cinephiles will recall the image of the literal goat-headed, horned figure of a devil with an arrow-shaped tail, carrying a toolbox, entering a sleeping household in Mexico in Carlos Reygadas' Post Tenebras Lux (2012) at night. Reygadas' followers inferred that unusual surreal image to e an allegorical representation of the entry of corruption into an innocent family's house bypassing sleeping children in their bedroom enroute to their parents' bedroom. Both the Mexican and the Georgian films begin with visuals of rain and mud. In both films, the images only make sense to a perceptive viewer as the film's narrative progresses, forcing the viewer to connect earlier images with the information provided much later, helping put the earlier mysterious sequences in context. Both the Mexican and the Georgian directors are reinforcing a film grammar rarely used in commercial cinema, but had existed in bits of the early works of Bunuel (e,g., Un Chien Andalou,1929) and of Herzog (e.g., the visually stunning flow of rats in Nosferatu the Vampyre made in 1979).
In the Georgian film, April, the bizarre opening sequence is linked with an early incident in the life of Nina, a gynecologist in a government hospital, who is the film's main protagonist, revealed much later in the film when as a young girl she was scared stiff to rescue her female friend who was drowning in a water-body. That inaction on her part scars her moral conscience in diverse ways. First, she rejects a possible marriage with a male gynecologist, who likes and appreciates her as a person and as a very capable and trustworthy colleague at work.
Subsequently Nina, now a gynecologist sets on a somewhat secret mission to help poor women in rural Georgia, who get pregnant in non-consensual situations to abort their fetus as hospitals do not allow abortions in that country. This is Nina's personal, discreet way to make amends for her inaction to save her friend from drowning while pleading for Nina's help. Nina's chosen double life is akin to the secret lives of the fictional Batman and Superman though in her case not to fight evil forces but to help those who have no succor. Like the comic book superheroes, the film does not indicate that Nina's secret night life is to earn any additional income; it is truly gratuitous--traveling long distances alone in her car, with full medical accessories required to conduct an operation at night, to help the helpless.
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| Nina prepares to abort the fetus of a physically/mentally challenged lady, impregnated without consent, on a dining table of a family with limited resources |
The cinematic grammar of April is akin to verbal punctuation in a written work, only using visuals and sounds to provide additional information beyond the minimal spoken narrative for the attentive viewer. The somewhat-human, ash-colored grotesque figure re-appears in the film at crucial junctures in the narrative. Even a bicycle ridden by Nina's colleague is captured by the camera's vision indoors to indicate the importance of the location of the shot with the grotesque figure being held by Nina's colleague just as lovers would. Then there are sequences with spring flowers growing in April in the Georgian rural landscape in happier sequences and with ominous clouds and thundershowers as precursors to difficult scenarios--each chosen to complement the narrative with care.
The main tale of April includes the dramatic charges levelled against Nina's official work within the hospital made by a parent that his child died in the hospital due to Nina's negligence during childbirth. The viewer of the film awaits the outcome of that inquiry, while the hospital authorities worry whether Nina's extra-territorial illegal activities would come out in public or not and the consequences for Nina.
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| A lonely Nina outside the office of the Head of her hospital awaiting the outcome of an internal inquiry into an allegation against her that her operation caused a child's death |
The end of the film proves to be fascinating and thought-provoking, worthy of its Special Jury Prize awarded by the Venice film festival for film's director. While right-wingers would dig up the "Roe vs Wade" arguments in USA, this remarkable Georgian film is a delight essentially for the way it has been constructed, and the importance of respect one bestows on those few who place importance to their moral stance to help those that need one's discreet help above the controversial subject of the legality of abortions. Director Dea Kulumbegashivili has exhibited her talent as a filmmaker to the world in April and that has been recognized widely at diverse festivals around the globe. This talented director could emerge as a major force in East European cinema.
P.S. The Mexican film Post Tenebras Lux (2012) has been reviewed earlier on this blog, Click on the name of the film to access that review. April is one the best films of 2024 for this critic.


