yusufpiskin

The fields and gardens of a large village in the mountains of Armenia are suffering from a lack of water. According to legend, a river once flowed here, but an evil monster, angered by the rebellious people, hid it away.

One day, geologists arrive in the village. Schoolchildren Kamo, Nikita, and Grikor decide to help the expedition and embark on a hike. These young explorers find a fragment of an ancient slab in the mountains and learn that the river vanished after an earthquake. They head back into the mountains to tell the geologists about their important discovery. An unexpected thunderstorm, however, forces the children to take shelter in a cave, whose exit soon collapses. Wandering through the mysterious underground labyrinths, the children eventually discover the lost river.

While it may seem a rather conventional television film, it is a significant work for its insights into both the Armenian cinema of its period and the psychology of those living under the Soviet yoke. A flawed film, certainly no masterpiece, it is by no means an empty one.

A truly striking short film. There are plenty of reasons why it leaves such an impression... Beyond its strong technical achievement, the young lead and the two other actors perform with genuine conviction. On top of that, the fact that Rafael Peralta wrote the screenplay in a semi-autobiographical way deepens the film's impact. I have a real love for Spanish cinema; the way Spaniards can tell even their most painful stories through coming-of-age drama is what makes their cinema stand out.

In the West, films like this get showered with awards thanks to an endless, almost compulsive fascination with Orientalism. In such an insincere atmosphere, it becomes hard for viewers to tell which films genuinely deserve recognition.

I decided to stop caring about award ceremonies back in my teenage years. But Sundance has always held a different place in my heart.

Western audiences and critics watching Eastern cinema through subtitles can't really see the films from our perspective. Understandably, they miss the flaws.

The biggest issue with this film was the dialogue. It sounded like it was written in English and then run through Google Translate into Turkish.

The Polish cinematographer, perhaps influenced by the Iranian director, tried too hard to mimic Iranian cinema with every frame. It showed, and not always in a good way.

When an Iranian and a Polish filmmaker try to make a Turkish-language film in Turkey with Turkish actors, it inevitably leads to some serious mismatches. And yes, it shows.

Though I recently had lovely conversations with Ekin Koç, Erkan Kolçak Köstendil, Hazar Ergüçlü, and Ercan Kesal, and I really like all of them, credit where credit is due. Köstendil and Koç are the ones who carry the film on their shoulders.

After one of his concerts, I told Ekin, "You got two big reactions back-to-back from two indie films. What's next?" He smiled and said, "Bring on the next one. This is the fun part."

Koç is deeply in love with the craft. He doesn't care if he makes money off the projects he believes in. In fact, he even spends out of pocket. A remarkable actor and an incredibly talented musician. And once again, he gives everything he's got here.

The film swings between being a festival piece and a mainstream production. But despite a few hiccups, it manages to communicate a powerful idea to the audience.

Still, if I were on the Sundance jury, this wouldn't be my pick.

Alireza Khatami said the film was inspired by David Lynch. I won't comment on that. Because honestly, I'm not sure I can say anything about it without being mean.