"The more specific a film is, the more universal, because the more it understands individual characters, the more it applies to everyone".
I already quoted Ebert in my review of "Lion" and despite my dislike for repetition, I don't think a movie better illustrates that statement than Henri Verneuil's "Mayrig", the story of Armenian refugees, who escaped the genocide to live under the protective sun of Marseilles. The film is impregnated by Armenian culture and that indelible red stain still denied by the Turks, but we share the joys and tears of the Zakarians, regardless of any cultural belonging. Indeed, the title "Mayrig", meaning "Mother" couldn't have been more universal.
It is less about the mother than the idea of a mother, the sacred bond with anything defining who you are, where you come from, like a land, like family. The narrator (voiced by Richard Berry) often mentions his trinity of mothers: Aunt Gayane (Nathalie Roussel) is young, with a beauty that could have taken her places but she settled down with the family and Aunt Anna (Isabelle Sadoyan) looks so old and plump she could have pass as a grandmother.
The rest of the family portrait) includes the father, Hagop, played by the late Omar Sharif, a rock of a man with the sweetest heart, and Claudia Cardinale is the titular "Mayrig" whose smile and goodness never cease to irradiate the screen. And all these 'little' people of gigantic 'hearts' gravitate around the last of the clan and the hope of the family: little Azad. But you can't understand the education of Azad without previous insights about the Armenian past.
"Mayrig" opens with the voice of Verneuil reminding his audience that the Armenians are the first Christian nation, and maybe like a symbolical embodiment to Jesus' martyrdom, they underwent countless aggression through history, yet that never defeated their spirit. The introduction is followed by the murder of infamous Taalat Pacha, the "Turkish Hitler" as often called, the following trial of Soghorian, his 'murderer', enlightens the international community about the atrocious crimes ordered by Ottoman rulers.
The introduction was necessary not just as a historical reminder but so we can see the Zakarian's less as immigrants than survivors, the last branch of a decimated family. A friend, Apkar (Jacky Nercessian) relates his experience in the genocide and how he stayed alive not because of survival instinct but for transmission. Christianity from the dawn, genocide and the exile to Europe (some would go as far as Venezuela), history marked the identity of Armenians. Yet their spirit is never self-centered.
There's a scene where Hagop tells Apkar, that there's no room for nostalgia, it's a sickness one must get rid of, they must honor their exile and since France showed enough heart to take them under her arm, they'll give France their son. It's not just about "remember who you are" but "where you are", and that today, most Armenians are totally assimilated to the French nation, says a lot about their spirit. The film defies all the usual archetypes by showing people who didn't even try to fit but to fit better.
For instance, the Zakarians don't like the idea of public school, if it was so good, why would people pay for other schools, are state schools about charity? They send Azad to a religious school, even if that means nighttime working for everybody, Hagop in the factory, the trinity of mother spending sleepless nights sewing shirts and buttonholes. The hardworking mentality also affects little Azad who sees from the start that he's dressed too well not to fool the kids at school about his real status, and the grimace when the teacher calls his name or the contempt from the catechism teacher achieves to make an outcast of him.
He couldn't care less. The story of the genocide he eavesdropped on convinced him that the point isn't to please his friends but his parents. And when they asked them how his day at school was, he doesn't lie for the good marks but he does for his friends, if it can make his father go happily at work, it's worth a wise lie.
In a similar scene, after sneaking into a theater to see "Queen Christina" with Garbo, he comes in the house shouting that he wants to be a movie star. Seeing the devastation on their faces, he pretends it's a joke and after a quick glance at a newspaper, says he wants to be a naval engineer, the face of his father immediately illuminates, he listens to the world like a symphony. The film always finds sadness in humor and reciprocally.
In another scene where Azad is stricken by pleurisy, when asked to cough, to say 33 or to breathe loudly, his "three mothers" imitate him as if they were as sick as he was. And to check how tolerable the hot poultices are, poor Aunt Gayane places them on her cheek and let a crisped smile reassure Azad. They are, sad, happy and even sick together. As if the family was a microcosm of people who always stayed united through history.
The film spans two decades of the life of the Zakarians, taking a few artistic licenses with the chronology: Azad is 7 in the early 20's but is 20 at the beginning of the war. But I didn't mind because the whole film is told like a book, even the parents express themselves in a poetic eloquence that is not realistic, but it works as an additional support to the film's imagery which is rich and eloquent enough.
When the film closes with that magnificent waltz between a mother and her son and the beautiful score of Jean-Claude Petit, you understand more about this culture, that provided names that go from Aznavour to Kazan and of course, Achod Malakian aka Henri Verneuil.
I already quoted Ebert in my review of "Lion" and despite my dislike for repetition, I don't think a movie better illustrates that statement than Henri Verneuil's "Mayrig", the story of Armenian refugees, who escaped the genocide to live under the protective sun of Marseilles. The film is impregnated by Armenian culture and that indelible red stain still denied by the Turks, but we share the joys and tears of the Zakarians, regardless of any cultural belonging. Indeed, the title "Mayrig", meaning "Mother" couldn't have been more universal.
It is less about the mother than the idea of a mother, the sacred bond with anything defining who you are, where you come from, like a land, like family. The narrator (voiced by Richard Berry) often mentions his trinity of mothers: Aunt Gayane (Nathalie Roussel) is young, with a beauty that could have taken her places but she settled down with the family and Aunt Anna (Isabelle Sadoyan) looks so old and plump she could have pass as a grandmother.
The rest of the family portrait) includes the father, Hagop, played by the late Omar Sharif, a rock of a man with the sweetest heart, and Claudia Cardinale is the titular "Mayrig" whose smile and goodness never cease to irradiate the screen. And all these 'little' people of gigantic 'hearts' gravitate around the last of the clan and the hope of the family: little Azad. But you can't understand the education of Azad without previous insights about the Armenian past.
"Mayrig" opens with the voice of Verneuil reminding his audience that the Armenians are the first Christian nation, and maybe like a symbolical embodiment to Jesus' martyrdom, they underwent countless aggression through history, yet that never defeated their spirit. The introduction is followed by the murder of infamous Taalat Pacha, the "Turkish Hitler" as often called, the following trial of Soghorian, his 'murderer', enlightens the international community about the atrocious crimes ordered by Ottoman rulers.
The introduction was necessary not just as a historical reminder but so we can see the Zakarian's less as immigrants than survivors, the last branch of a decimated family. A friend, Apkar (Jacky Nercessian) relates his experience in the genocide and how he stayed alive not because of survival instinct but for transmission. Christianity from the dawn, genocide and the exile to Europe (some would go as far as Venezuela), history marked the identity of Armenians. Yet their spirit is never self-centered.
There's a scene where Hagop tells Apkar, that there's no room for nostalgia, it's a sickness one must get rid of, they must honor their exile and since France showed enough heart to take them under her arm, they'll give France their son. It's not just about "remember who you are" but "where you are", and that today, most Armenians are totally assimilated to the French nation, says a lot about their spirit. The film defies all the usual archetypes by showing people who didn't even try to fit but to fit better.
For instance, the Zakarians don't like the idea of public school, if it was so good, why would people pay for other schools, are state schools about charity? They send Azad to a religious school, even if that means nighttime working for everybody, Hagop in the factory, the trinity of mother spending sleepless nights sewing shirts and buttonholes. The hardworking mentality also affects little Azad who sees from the start that he's dressed too well not to fool the kids at school about his real status, and the grimace when the teacher calls his name or the contempt from the catechism teacher achieves to make an outcast of him.
He couldn't care less. The story of the genocide he eavesdropped on convinced him that the point isn't to please his friends but his parents. And when they asked them how his day at school was, he doesn't lie for the good marks but he does for his friends, if it can make his father go happily at work, it's worth a wise lie.
In a similar scene, after sneaking into a theater to see "Queen Christina" with Garbo, he comes in the house shouting that he wants to be a movie star. Seeing the devastation on their faces, he pretends it's a joke and after a quick glance at a newspaper, says he wants to be a naval engineer, the face of his father immediately illuminates, he listens to the world like a symphony. The film always finds sadness in humor and reciprocally.
In another scene where Azad is stricken by pleurisy, when asked to cough, to say 33 or to breathe loudly, his "three mothers" imitate him as if they were as sick as he was. And to check how tolerable the hot poultices are, poor Aunt Gayane places them on her cheek and let a crisped smile reassure Azad. They are, sad, happy and even sick together. As if the family was a microcosm of people who always stayed united through history.
The film spans two decades of the life of the Zakarians, taking a few artistic licenses with the chronology: Azad is 7 in the early 20's but is 20 at the beginning of the war. But I didn't mind because the whole film is told like a book, even the parents express themselves in a poetic eloquence that is not realistic, but it works as an additional support to the film's imagery which is rich and eloquent enough.
When the film closes with that magnificent waltz between a mother and her son and the beautiful score of Jean-Claude Petit, you understand more about this culture, that provided names that go from Aznavour to Kazan and of course, Achod Malakian aka Henri Verneuil.
