And Then We Danced Review (4/10/2020)

And Then We Danced is a film that premiered at Cannes Film Festival 2019, and is now beginning to make its rounds throughout the U.S. on streaming services (I viewed it through a local independent theater, the Coolidge Corner Theater). Following the story of two young male dancers in the ultra-conservative country of Georgia who fall in love and risk everything, it may seem somewhat familiar to the average American viewer, who live in a country where LGBT cinema has progressed much further. Between the 15 minute standing ovation it received upon the end of that initial screening to the numerous, aggressive protests in its home country of Georgia, it’s obvious that this film contains something that speaks volumes to those viewing it, both bad and good. It’s a quiet, character driven coming of age story that tells a very simple story with a core so revolutionary in the climate of Georgia that its importance cannot be overstated.

What’s interesting is that the qualities of this film come less from the story itself and more the dialogue it develops within Georgian society. That’s not to say that this is a bad film – it’s not by any means. Rather, when taken on its own, devoid of any social context, it’s just a pretty good film, not anything special. The story is fairly by the numbers at times, and I felt that the core romantic relationship was rather underdeveloped. I know that the main arc is more about the protagonist’s coming of age and less about the romantic relationship itself, but I still wish we could have seen a lot more of the two leads together. It would have given it that much more emotional weight had I been more invested in the two of them being together, and known more about just what kind of relationship they would have had. In general, I think the second half of the film sometimes falls flat. Things develop a little too quickly, relationships don’t really have the time they should to breathe, and there’s not as much time to properly reflect on the drama as there should be.

There is still plenty to like about this film even outside of its cultural importance, though. Despite its issues, the film is suitably emotional and heartwarming story of forbidden love. Its portrayal of a socially oppressive environment is affecting and haunting, as the protagonist goes through a society that makes it clear from the get go that if he ever comes out and tries to be himself, it will not tolerate him, and he will lose his friends, his job, his family, etc. The characters feel real and fleshed out, and the camerawork does an excellent job of drawing you into their world. Best of all are the dance sequences, filmed in a way that shows the energy and beauty but also the immense labor that goes into making a performance a memorable one. They also do a fantastic job of representing the traditional conservative structures of Georgian society; it is repeated throughout the film that Georgian dance is about masculinity and purity, and we can infer that these are some of the traditions used to uphold the rigid social roles that keep men and women from truly expressing themselves, especially if they deviate from the norm in ways such as homosexuality.

Everything comes together in a final scene that cannot be understated in quality. I’m not sure this film will hold up as one of the best I saw this year, but this scene alone will certainly rank among the best. The protagonist at this point has gone through a nearly unspeakable amount of emotional growing pains, and suffered greatly at the hands of a society that won’t let him be himself. In a final performance at an audition, the protagonist lets go in an extended dance sequence that defines everything that he’s gone through. The mix of masculinity and sensuousness and feminine grace convey his own unique identity that society has been trying to squash.

In this scene, we see a man boldly declaring who he is to the world. That he isn’t ashamed or sorry to be who he is, and if anybody is offended by it that’s their problem. This is the kind of film that starts cultural revolutions, that tells marginalized people that it’s okay to be themselves and that they deserve to be seen by taking cultural traditions that represent oppressive structures and bending them to represent individual freedom and self-expression. Even in the United States, where we’ve made progress with LGBT issues, we still have a long way to go, and as a lesbian myself I can’t understate how important this message is. And Then We Danced is perhaps not a great film on its own, but the dialogue it creates within its home country is hugely important and impressive, and it’s an example of why art is such a good tool to challenge the social and political norms of a nation, and why it’s best used not as a weapon of tradition used to distract and confine, but rather a tool for the individual to use to break free.