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Khamraev perfects the
emerging Uzbek art-house film techniques with his fluid camera shots
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A
boy on the brink of manhood, a coming of age story - all familiar themes to
Western cinema. But in the hands of Uzbekistan’s tour de force Ali
Khamraev, these age-old narratives receive a unique treatment indicative of
the stylistic, surreally-magic timbre of Central Asian cinema. In Man
Follows Birds Khamraev tells the story of a boy struggling to be a man
in the brutal landscape of medieval Uzbekistan. But it’s so much more than
that.
The
film, playing this month in New York as part of the Lincoln Center’s Films
from along the Silk Road series, is a fresh approach to a tired genre
that highlights the stylistic, surreally magical approach taken by numerous
Central Asian films. Khamraev relies on over-the-top acting from its young
actors, pseudo-kitschy film techniques and juxtaposition of the innocence of
childhood with the cruel nature of Uzbek countryside life to create a
unique, odd story.
Granted,
these techniques can smack of B-movie tactics to a Western audience, but
some wonderment of the characters painted against the lushness of the
landscape lifts it past its oddities. Indeed, in a way those oddities add to
the sadly quirky charm of the film.
The
coming-of-age story focuses on Farukh, a young man with both feminine and
manly qualities who revels in the poetry of his surroundings and turns to
the Qur’an to gather strength against the personal tragedies that follow
him. He constantly laments the loss of his mother, who died giving birth to
him. And he tries to stop his father from drinking, only to lose him to
alcohol poisoning.
Though
he physically abuses the Holy Qur’an when his father dies, he returns to
its verses at each dreadful turn in his life. His love, the gorgeous
Amaderya, marries another (though she begs him before the wedding to elope
with her, but he hasn’t the maturity to make that leap). He decides to
leave his village with his best friend, Khabib, and forage a new life for
himself.
These
two play at being adults. They look for work but spend more time reveling in
the splendors of the countryside while ignoring the need to find some
serious shelter and food source before the next harsh Uzbek winter. A third
innocent enters their company in the form of a sweetly beautiful young girl,
Gultcha, who has lost her family to marauders.
What
are these child-adults thinking, one wonders. They gather food, spear fish
and build a partial shelter out of stones. And love grows between Gultcha
and Khabib. Farukh, sensing he’s a third wheel, decides to leave the group
in his final step towards manhood. But even this sacrificial step is doomed
as Gultcha and Khabib fall prey to thugs.
In
these scenes Khamraev perfects the emerging Uzbek art-house film techniques
with his fluid camera shots. Though the acting is exaggerated (as with
Farukh’s immature reaction of falling to the ground and beating his fists
when he realizes his friends are in danger), the small details make it work.
But definitely a measure of suspended belief is needed.
More
than anything, Man Follows Birds introduces Western audiences to the
very different story-telling nuances of Uzbek cinema and Khamraev’s own
artistic style. In this post-Soviet era when the Central Asian film industry
has begun to flourish, Uzbekistan (and Khamraev) is the old guard of the
business.
You
have to wonder what influences this director to make the choices he does -
is it the post-communist political landscape? The untrained methods of the
actors? The need to rely on artistic metaphors to tell the story? Whatever
it is, it makes for interesting film viewing.
Man
Follows Birds
(Ali
Khamraev, Uzbekistan, 1972; 96m)
is playing in New York at the Walter Reade Theater in Manhattan until the
end of May. The film does have some semi-nude and mildly violent scenes. For
more information visit www.filmlinc.com.
