Religious-philosophical ideas about destiny have always been the subject of judgment both in works of art and in philosophers’ thinking. According to Niccolò Machiavelli: "Fortune determines one half of our actions, but that, even so, it leaves us to control the other half or thereabouts." In mythology, fate plays an important role in disposing the lives of gods and mortals. It is impossible to have one true opinion on this. Actually, only destiny plays a big role in our life choices, we control it if they both have their mission. Having both might be more logical because only in the case of fate, a person would be like a marionette whose free will would be ignored and only Moira – Atropos, the goddess of fate would cut his driving thread when she wanted. Sooner or later, man would realize her superiority, throw down his shield and sword, and he would lose all the essence of striving for the goal entrusting himself to fate and therefore, civilization would not develop.
Levan Tutberidze's film "Moira" (2015), which was awarded the Best Film by the Asian Film Festival, is based on the dramatic story of the main character Mamuka (Paata Inauri) and his family. The film begins with a shot of Mamuka leaving the cold walls of the jail, who is being awaited by his younger brother Shotiko (Giorgi Khurtsilava) outside and his father (Zaza Maghalashvili) at home, who is wheelchair-bound due to a stroke. Although the film starts optimistically (the hero was finally released from prison after five years and, as we learn from a conversation with a friend, he had accidentally got into a misunderstanding and served a sentence for his friends’ business), there is still a foreboding that his fate – Moira (if we believe in her existence) is preparing a new judgment.
A seaside town devoid of holiday-makers, a beach bleached by the autumn gloom, the weak rays of the sun that irradiate the sea, a gloomy and lifeless environment – all this is a kind of message for the film plot development. The director prepares us in advance for the fact that the main character has gone through one ordeal but he will have to overcome greater difficulties ahead despite the fact that the hero and his family members’ problem in the film is a well-worn topic at a glance and should not cause the audience to feel different emotions and expect something new, a kind of anxiety. Paata Inauri, with his natural acting and speech devoid of pathos, brings us so close to him and drags us into his drama that he once again makes us think about those many young people who have gone astray, left out of life, who were trapped by fate or excessive trust in unreliable friends.
The brothers, who are trying to start fish business, decide to put their house in the bank and buy an old fishing boat that has already been written off (depending on their potential), which they symbolically call "Moira." Their goal is to bring the emigrated mother (Keti Tskhakaia) home, who earns money by singing, before her contract expires, and to prove the parents of Shotiko's girlfriend Tina (Ani Bebia) that she will be a worthy groom for them. The desire to start a better life is so great that the main character involuntarily gets involved in a new carelessness situation and, despite his hesitation, takes money from his friend, supposedly to help him. It is true that the director tried to evoke sympathy in the audience with Mamuka’s character, who is faced with a new trial because of his brother but his father's condition causes no less heartache. The father who seems to be having a stroke because of his son’s imprisonment, truly deserves sympathy. The shock caused by his son's arrest would naturally be followed by endless feelings and tensions that would result from his son's existence behind bars. A father confined to a wheelchair for years, depressed by the expectation of his imprisoned son and wife who has emigrated, falls into a new ordeal.
With the return of Mamuka's mother from emigration, a new family drama begins in the film, a drama that is generally considered a large-scale problem almost anywhere a family member emigrates to support the family. Mother's departure from her homeland naturally leads to her relatives’ alienation as well as family members, unacceptability of her home and a feeling of depression. Mamuka's parents have almost nothing to bond each other. The wife's Greek speaking is as incomprehensible and foreign to the husband as their emotional connection to each other. The mother arrives, the family takes on a perfect appearance, everything should be fine, but the director does not trust the family, which is already suffering from many problems. Separation makes the estranged husband jealous. In this case, it doesn't matter whether the husband's jealousy is really justified or whether the wife should be judged for her sudden decisions, which are shocking to the son as well. The main problem is the alienation caused by the separation from the family, which is accompanied by uncertainty and anxiety between two divided "worlds." To say the least, so much tragedy and hopelessness is too depressing. It seems that the director tried to influence the audience with the twisted fate of all members of this family, which is a primitive way to attract the audience.
There is not a single character in the film who shows a glimmer of hope. Almost all the heroes are lonely and depressed in their own way. Although many episodes of the film evoke certain emotional feelings, there are scenes that lack conviction. The seemingly accidental meeting of the police officer and the main character raises many questions. Why did Mamuka come to the yard of the police station? Because they would suspect him and follow his trail, which would eventually lead them to the criminals? Or did he come to directly tell the criminals’s whereabouts and take it upon himself to be complicit with them instead of his brother? I wonder why the cop does not arrest him when he finds him hiding in a corner during the police attack on the criminals. Did he pity him? This is absurd. Did he inform on them? This is also not fully revealed. This episode is a bit uncertain and vague, which ultimately leads to one big puzzle. What decision the hero comes to needs more specification. We can think that this is also the director’s trick to leave the audience with their own thoughts and versions. If this is so, the dramaturgical structure is still broken in this case.
As for the monotonous rhythm of the film, it is interesting and poetic in the beginning, but in the course of an hour and a half, when the frequency of episodes with many meaningless pauses increases, the film becomes boring. Despite this multi-faceted emotional impact, some shots are so beautiful and deep that they sometimes take your breath away and lead you to deep thoughts.
In the episode in which the mother is hanging laundry on the balcony, she carefully cuts the rope with scissors. This symbolic shot is a direct reference to the main character’s tragic end, which is perceived as banal and breaks the stylistic structure of the film.
Finally, what did the director want to say? That the ex-prisoner leaving prison had been serving his sentence for betraying his friends, is forever doomed in life and his Moira always follows him to "cut the thread?" If he can't learn from his mistakes, should he turn himself and his brother away from such an unreliable friend as Tengo? Since the director chose "Moira" as the title, he follows a mythical regularity and, like many mythical heroes who tried to escape their destiny but still became its victims, he also makes his hero Moira’s victim.
It can be said that the film shared its pain with us as much as possible and once again reminded us of the main thing that has been the drama of real, trapped characters in our existence for decades. For those people who, like Mamuka, got into misfortune, the goddess of fate might not have cut the thread of life for some of them but the thread of fate was tied onto their throats in such a way that it will be difficult for them to breathe as pleasantly and freely the rest of their lives as they were able to do before.
Ketevan Ghonghadze
