Depuis qu'Otar est parti...

"Since Otar Left" is about three generations of Georgian women (an old women, her daughter, and her granddaughter) who live in austerity in an old flat in Georgia. The grandmother looks forward to letters she receives from her only other offspring, a son Otar, who is working in Paris. When Otar dies unexpectedly, the two younger women intercept the bad news and hatch a plan to keep the letters and the happiness they bring coming to the old woman. As the film develops this meager plot and we watch the women trudge through their mundane daily activities we are unaware of a more significant plot developing before our eyes with both plots culminating suddenly at the film's end.

Those who prefer a steady diet of the usual commercial Hollywood film products will likely find "Since Otar Left" a monotonous film of little consequence. However, those who enjoy the people stories of French cinema with their natural and finely nuanced studies of human nature, this sensitive, plaintive, and charming gem is a fly-on-the-wall look at a slice-of-Georgian-life which should not be missed. (A-)

This was one of the best films I've ever seen. It was simply magnificent--human, and true in a way that modern films rarely display. The cinematography was skillful; the amount of time on a given scene varied, with the variety quite significant in terms of its meaning. (For instance, the cut to the "Conservation" (cemetery) was an example of this.) I will see this beautiful film again, and give it my highest recommendation. My hat is off in tribute to the director, producer, writer, and actors.

With explicit themes such as poverty, exile, old age and death, 'Since Otar Left' does not exactly make a pitch as light entertainment; and a subtle screenplay that wrings every last note of poignancy from its basic scenario could be seen to aggravate matters even further. But as well as its script, this film has other merits, including fine cinematography and excellent performances from its small cast. Perhaps what's best of all is the way that it combines universal themes with the particulars of its situation, in the former Soviet republic of Georgia. The characters' own story reflects (and is indeed part of) the story of the country as a whole; and that is the story of the death, and eventual rebirth, of hope itself. This is a film that isn't always easy viewing, but it's also worth sticking with.

[See IMDb home page for this film for cast names-they aren't known in the U.S.]

Consistently interesting and often moving, first-time director Julie Bertucelli brings to the screen a sometimes humorous, often sad story about three women - grandmother, mother and daughter - living in Georgia (the Georgia that was part of the USSR). No one is starving here but a workers' paradise it isn't either.

The white-haired grandmother is bent and saddled with a heart problem. Living with her in a small but neat apartment boasting many shelves of French books in fine bindings are her daughter, Marina, widow of a soldier killed in the Soviet Union's Afghanistan debacle, and Ada, a student in her late teens or early twenties. She isn't a great beauty but her sensitive face reflects a growing intelligence and a wide range of feelings. All three speak French fluently and each has an emotional attachment to France. The grandmother boasts that the family managed to hide the tomes from "the Bolsheviks."

Notwithstanding her love of France, grandma pines for the good old days of Stalin where everything currently out of kilter would have been fixed by Uncle Joe. She goes as far as to claim she can prove the dictator never ordered anyone killed. There's a surprisingly large number of older Russians and people from former Soviet republics who still maintain that view today.

Otar is the grandmother's beloved son, a Moscow-trained doctor who left Georgia to work, illegally, in construction in France. Writing or phoning regularly, and occasionally sending money, was his habit until, near the beginning of the film, Marina learns he has been killed in an on-the-job accident.

Marina and Ada grieve intensely by themselves. Marina comes up with the terrific(!) idea to keep the news of Otar's demise from the old lady. Her assumption is that her mother, who lived through The Purges and The Great Patriotic War, would die upon hearing the awful news. Not too hard to imagine the complications that can arise from such a scheme with the risk of disclosure of the truth hanging like a cheap suit. Ada is impressed into writing fulsome letters from Otar which his mother never seems to recognize as bogus, even when looking at them.

Things become more complicated, not surprisingly. This isn't the most original plot ever. But then grandma shocks and amazes Marina and Ada with tickets for a Paris vacation to see Otar.

The trip allows the story to continue to an unexpected, satisfying and very lovely ending (which I won't, of course, reveal).

This film is less about a missing and mourned son than it is about inter-generational dynamics among three women who have a very deep and honest love for each other. And it's also a reminder of how resilient people can be when they must. Ada is torn between two worlds but she isn't neurotic or destructive-she's quietly finding her own way. Marina is resigned to life with a supportive, kind boyfriend who cares for her but who she says she can't love. But she isn't cold or exploitative-she seems like a lot of fun when she's with him. And grandma, her devotion to Stalin notwithstanding, is a rock. A realistic one at that.

I hope to see more from Ms. Bertucelli soon.

9/10

"Depuis qu'Otar est parti" is a very personal, I would even say, miniature story about very ordinary people, living in far less than glamorous conditions in faraway Georgia. If you are after that small-scale retrospective type of cinema art, you will enjoy the film because it portrays character development and relationship between three female protagonist very well - with deep insight and savvy.

But apart from being a solid and interesting drama that leads its characters through emotional debris to internal grit and, finally, to some glimpse of hope (for how, read other comments or better watch it), this film signifies for me, a native of the former USSR, a far broader and more intimate picture of the material and emotional decline in post-Soviet countries after the communist collapse.

Deteriorated poor Georgia and emotional confusion of the people was so authentic that I thought the film was shot by a native Georgian (Otar Iosselianni even crossed my mind) and was surprised to learn in the captions that a French director had actually made it. So real and natural was the depiction not only of the Georgian family's life with all those outdated interiors and city landscapes but also of the characters' psychological state, their behavior, their little skirmishes and caring relationship with each other. The film felt like being shot by a true Georgian, who loves and appreciates those quirky ways and habits of her fellow countrymen. The desolate state of mind, entanglement in those little ordinary lies looked also so familiar, reminding of the life in mid-90s Russia and today's reality in many backward provinces and republics of the former USSR.

I guess I should re-think my notion that only native artists can impart authenticity to the portrayal of national character and spirit on screen.

Kudos to Ms Bertucelli for capturing this murky but also hopeful Zeitgeist of the lost epoch!!!