Tinatin Emiridze’s documentary, “Fog Curtain” (2019), tells the story of the Khulo State Drama Theater. More precisely, this film is more of a description than a narrative and its main problem might lie just in this. Before the director’s idea reaches the audience, it has to go through foggy landscapes (which occupy a fairly large part), the abundance of characters from the very first minute and the confusion caused by getting to know them from afar, unexpected changes in the plot and many other factors, as a result of which it reaches in a quite foggy manner those on the other side of the screen and does not leave any impression.
In the first part, the depiction of the snow-covered nature of Khulo region and the people living in it (it might be said, living with it) created an interesting atmosphere. It seems that at the beginning the main character is nature, and in order for the viewer to perceive this well, the director not only shows beautiful shots, but also connects most of the people with nature: some are chopping firewood, some are lighting a bonfire, and most importantly, if a person is visible in each shot, nature is also visible, and this might speak for itself. This is facilitated by the style chosen for the film by the director - the lack of music and the use of natural noises, so that the viewer can better feel nature and it is as real to him as it is to the people on the screen.
Despite several aesthetically beautiful shots, the expositional part of the film is overly drawn out and raises many questions. The plot flows so slowly that its existence is questioned and the impression is created that the viewer is watching a collage of beautiful, although mostly mediocre, shots that describe but do not tell a story. No matter how beautiful it is, it is difficult to watch the changing landscapes in a short film of 10 minutes without getting bored. And after a while, when your hand is already reaching for the rewind button independently of you, you realize that even the beauty so carefully conveyed by the director has lost its value and when the thing on which half of the film is based gradually loses its value, then what is left of it that is valuable?
In any case, the idea is understandable: to create the atmosphere desired by the director, to let the viewer see the daily life of these people - how they work, in what conditions, how lonely they are (although the loneliness shown in these shots is only physical, and its connection with the spiritual state is only an assumption that emerged in the difficult process of searching for the film's message). It would have been better to spend less time showing nature and people in general and instead introduce a few people important to the story, even if without words, more closely, because there is a danger that the film will lose a certain part of the audience in the very first minutes, especially when the style chosen by the author does not include dialogue.
It is also noteworthy that the film does not have a main character, although the director introduces a person into the plot who acts as a kind of bridge between the first and second parts of the film. This character, a theater director, is the only one in the film who speaks to the camera. He says only one phrase - “Everything changes. Everything changes in the world. In nature too.” Due to the fact that this moment is a clear deviation from the film’s style (no talking, only observation), it should have special meaning, the words should hint at something to the viewer, but it seems that the young director simply liked the words spoken, presumably spontaneously, by his senior colleague and decided to leave them in the film. Directors, especially those at the beginning of their careers, often cannot avoid precious shots, and this is probably one of those cases, which might not have been such a noticeable flaw if it weren’t for the next scene.
Despite their short running time, the first and second parts can be conditionally divided into two parts: the first - the nature and people of Khulo and the second - the theater and people. It is quite difficult to connect these two parts, especially after watching the film once. The reason for this is again that we do not get to know the characters at all, some of them are even difficult to remember, and it is precisely these people who unite these two topics.
The next scene is just the transitional moment between the first and second parts of the film. The theater director enters the Khulo theater, sits in the empty auditorium and looks at the stage with such nostalgia, he seems to be remembering something, as if his action should be an echo of the words he himself spoke in the previous scene and the action should develop in this direction - people and changes, theater and changes, Khulo and changes or something else. Unfortunately, nothing of the kind happens, the plot flows aimlessly again, which makes the phrase uttered in the previous scene about changes even more inappropriate. It is clear that this particular scene is staged and again aims at using this character as a kind of bridge between the two conditional parts of the film. Despite the attempt, the discovery that the people shown at the beginning of the film are actors from the Khulo Theater does not add anything to the film’s message, so the bridge is only a bridge conditionally and not in content, not in the way it should be.
When the action moves from the foggy nature to the theater space, a small spark of hope appears that the audience will be given the opportunity to get to know the characters, even if only a few of them, in order to at least answer such an elementary question as - what is this film about? It is logical that the thorough study of so many characters is a great challenge not only for a short student film, but also for full-length films, although the solution was there, and already found in the form of a theater director. If the young director had made this person the main character, the narrative would have flowed on its own and it would have been a much more cohesive story for better or worse with a much clearer message.
It is also understandable that the director chose the observational method as the filming style, which is quite common in documentary cinema and, most importantly, really suits the topic chosen for the film, that is, theater, although, it is not used appropriately in this case. Observation does not mean description, and in this film it has become a description of the environment (be it nature or theater) and only includes narrative elements with extreme superficiality. Most of the last minutes are devoted to rehearsal shots, and the film ends with a performance staged by the Khulo Theater on the Ukrainian stage, with applause from the audience and again with a few seconds of footage of Khulo nature.
Based on all this, the question arises - what was the purpose of the first part of the film at all, or why is “Fog Curtain” its title, when its connection with theater is so difficult and requires more thought than the film allows? It would have been better if the director had completely devoted himself to the nature shots and shifted all his attention to the theater, or if these shots had a metaphorical meaning for him, he had refined them more so that the only clear feeling after watching the film would not be confusion.
Many things prevent the audience from getting what they want to say. Moreover, it takes a lot of energy to see what they want to say behind the thick fog, which is most likely caused by the lack of answers to the most important question - why? However, in cinema, as in any other narrative medium, it is of utmost importance for the creative team to have an answer to this fundamental question before starting filming, on which the entire dramaturgy is based, which is why a particular film exists. Nevertheless, the young director chose an interesting setting, topic and filming method, so it is even more regrettable that the film cannot use its existing potential and loses almost all of its message due to noticeable dramaturgical flaws.
Tamar Zandukeli
