Published on April 6, 2026
This Georgian film will grip any cinephile exposed to rapidly evolving contemporary cinematic grammar from start to finish. Dea Kulumbegashvili’s film expresses its narrative through visuals, backed cinematography of Arseni Kachaturan and the music of young award-winning composer Matthew Herbert, while minimally relying on spoken dialogue.
Early in the film, we see a mysterious, ash-colored grotesque figure from the rear, breathing heavily as it heads towards water bodies in semi-darkness. Initially, nothing is explained to the viewer, except that the heavy breathing on the soundtrack resembles human breath. Cinephiles may recall the image of a goat-headed, horned figure in Carlos Reygadas’ 2012 film, *Post Tenebras Lux*, where the unusual surreal image serves as an allegory for the entry of corruption into an innocent household. Both the Mexican and Georgian films begin with visuals of rain and mud, and require perceptive viewers to connect earlier images with later information, reinforcing a film grammar rarely used in commercial cinema but reminiscent of early works Bunuel and Herzog.
In *April*, the bizarre opening sequence links to an early incident in the life of Nina, a gynecologist at a government hospital. As a young girl, she was too scared to rescue her drowning friend, an inaction that scars her moral conscience. Later in life, Nina rejects a marriage proposal from a male colleague who admires her, choosing instead to embark on a secret mission to assist poor women in rural Georgia who seek abortions—an act illegal in the country. Nina’s covert operations serve as her way of making amends for her past failure to help her friend.
Nina’s double life mirrors the secret lives of fictional superheroes, but instead of fighting evil, she seeks to help those in dire need. The film does not indicate that her nighttime activities are financially motivated; her sacrifices are purely altruistic, involving long drives and all the necessary medical equipment to conduct abortions in secret.
The cinematic grammar of *April* functions as a form of visual punctuation, relying on images and sounds to convey additional information beyond minimal dialogue. The ash-colored figure reappears at crucial narrative points, while other visuals—like spring flowers and ominous clouds—complement the unfolding story and its emotional weight.
The main narrative of *April* unfolds as Nina faces dramatic accusations concerning her job at the hospital after a child’s death during childbirth, allegedly due to her negligence. Tension builds as viewers wonder whether Nina’s illegal activities will come to light and what the consequences might be.
The film’s conclusion proves to be both fascinating and thought-provoking, earning a Special Jury Prize at the Venice Film Festival. While right-wing commentators may raise familiar “Roe vs. Wade” arguments in the U.S., this remarkable Georgian film stands out for its narrative construction and the moral dilemmas it presents. Director Dea Kulumbegashvili has exhibited her talent to the global audience through *April*, a film that has received accolades at various international festivals, potentially marking her emergence as a significant 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 of the best films of 2024 for this critic.*
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