Revue de 'April': Fascinating portrait of obstetricians at risk

In the second characteristic of the director of the director of Kulumbegashvili, a strange creature is in freedom. We saw it in the first moments of “April” – this naked being and similar to man whose body looks like a sagged skin bag. Having no eyes, no mouth and no face, with an approach that plants almost foreign, this nightmarish silhouette will reappear from time to time, its always overwhelming and unexplained return. Remarkably, the creature is only slightly more unknown than the fascinating main character of the film.

To call “April”, an abortion drama is correct and yet this description is only barely mixing and subversion of the genres of this film. Located in the country of Georgia, the film (which won a special prize at the jury at the Venice Film Festival) features ia Sukhitashvili as Nina, an expert obstetrician who, while history begins, testifies to a tragedy. Kulumbegashvili immerses us in a delivery room while a pregnant mother has trouble giving birth, the filmmaker's camera protecting us from nothing while the hospital staff are desperately trying to extract the child. Shortly after the baby was declared dead, Nina is blamed by the woman's husband and the underexious supervisor of Nina (Merab Ninidze) launched an investigation into what was wrong.

But Nina's concern extends beyond the possibility of losing her job. It is a secret of the Polichinelle that Nina makes abortions in private for those of the poor distant villages. Technically, abortion is legal up to 12 weeks in Georgia, but in this conservative and patriarchal company, it is nevertheless practically Verboten. Any investigation into Nina could exhibit her clandestine activities and ruin her career – not to mention her ability to help more women, either to bring life to this world or to end her.

Such a configuration suggests the potential of a thriller, but Kulumbegashvili (who previously threw Sukhitashvili in her 2020 Fénétrations beginnings “start”) is after something slippery. And it starts with her conception of her protagonist, whose inner life she refuses to light up. Often shown on the screen at the average distance or in the background, its always cut expressions, Nina derives through this slow combustion crisis without any urgency or palpable alarm. Emotionally, Sukhitashvili remains in the long term, the actions of his impenetrable character. One night, Nina goes to the countryside, picking up a random stranger and offering her a pipe. Has she already done this? And if so, what causes it? The answers are left as cryptic as the shocking result of this night interaction.

By removing gender conventions, “April” prevents traditional narration from focusing on much more existential questions – namely the oppressive gloom descending on Nina. Turned in a square aspect report which visually imprisoned him in his situation, the film uses follow -up photos as an indication in the state of mind of his character. When the Stoic Nina is off screen for a scene, we sometimes hear it high breathing, proof of silent stress stifling it. This brilliant story has armed the most quiet interludes in the film, creating the feeling that we watch these moments through his eyes. The images of director of the arseni khahaturan photography of sumptuous georgian landscapes – vibrant red flowers dotting an incredibly lush field – are underway by anxiety within the person who is developing in these views.

The realistic style of Kulumbegashvili – the writer -director has filmed real births – emphasizes the corridors of the antiseptic hospital and the quality of cold procedure of Nina's work. (The delivery process of a baby is represented as directly as the execution of an abortion.) The behavior of Nina is just as austere. Preferring to be invisible, she goes about her business by helping pregnant women while conferring themselves sporadically with David (Kakha Kintpsurashvili), a sympathetic colleague leading to the fateful investigation. Nina and David were once lovers, a fact that he never understood. Sitting in front of the other, David finally asks: “Why didn't you marry me?” In a revealing way, Nina is again out of camera when she responds slowly: “It would never have worked. There is no space for anyone in my life.”

We hear it, but we don't see it. Indeed, Nina often seems just out of reach. “April” depicts her dedication to serving women in need as noble but trigger, the one who led her to withdraw into her, perhaps as an adaptation mechanism to eliminate the rage and the helplessness she feels. With total naturalism, Kulumbegashvili and his star dramatize a cruel and sexist reality which is as inenestable as this inexplicable creature which repeatedly invades history, its faceless presence a metaphor for a cooled and surreal metaphor for a society attacking Nina and his patients.

Not quite a thriller and not quite a horror film, “April” is all the more haunting to never pin the roots of Nina's retirement from life while devoting yourself to improving the lives of others. Near the end of the film, she scolded her illegal activities, which prompted Nina to offer a launched and tired answer: “If it is not me, it will be someone else.” Again, she is not in front of the camera, but her voice of conscience has repercussions.