Depuis qu'Otar est parti... (2003) User Reviews

Three Generations of Women's Experience Crafted by First-Time Director

[lawprof · 9/10 · 13 May 2004]

[See IMDb home page for this film for cast names-they aren't known in the U.S.]

Consistently interesting and often moving, first-time director Julie Bertucelli brings to the screen a sometimes humorous, often sad story about three women - grandmother, mother and daughter - living in Georgia (the Georgia that was part of the USSR). No one is starving here but a workers' paradise it isn't either.

The white-haired grandmother is bent and saddled with a heart problem. Living with her in a small but neat apartment boasting many shelves of French books in fine bindings are her daughter, Marina, widow of a soldier killed in the Soviet Union's Afghanistan debacle, and Ada, a student in her late teens or early twenties. She isn't a great beauty but her sensitive face reflects a growing intelligence and a wide range of feelings. All three speak French fluently and each has an emotional attachment to France. The grandmother boasts that the family managed to hide the tomes from "the Bolsheviks."

Notwithstanding her love of France, grandma pines for the good old days of Stalin where everything currently out of kilter would have been fixed by Uncle Joe. She goes as far as to claim she can prove the dictator never ordered anyone killed. There's a surprisingly large number of older Russians and people from former Soviet republics who still maintain that view today.

Otar is the grandmother's beloved son, a Moscow-trained doctor who left Georgia to work, illegally, in construction in France. Writing or phoning regularly, and occasionally sending money, was his habit until, near the beginning of the film, Marina learns he has been killed in an on-the-job accident.

Marina and Ada grieve intensely by themselves. Marina comes up with the terrific(!) idea to keep the news of Otar's demise from the old lady. Her assumption is that her mother, who lived through The Purges and The Great Patriotic War, would die upon hearing the awful news. Not too hard to imagine the complications that can arise from such a scheme with the risk of disclosure of the truth hanging like a cheap suit. Ada is impressed into writing fulsome letters from Otar which his mother never seems to recognize as bogus, even when looking at them.

Things become more complicated, not surprisingly. This isn't the most original plot ever. But then grandma shocks and amazes Marina and Ada with tickets for a Paris vacation to see Otar.

The trip allows the story to continue to an unexpected, satisfying and very lovely ending (which I won't, of course, reveal).

This film is less about a missing and mourned son than it is about inter-generational dynamics among three women who have a very deep and honest love for each other. And it's also a reminder of how resilient people can be when they must. Ada is torn between two worlds but she isn't neurotic or destructive-she's quietly finding her own way. Marina is resigned to life with a supportive, kind boyfriend who cares for her but who she says she can't love. But she isn't cold or exploitative-she seems like a lot of fun when she's with him. And grandma, her devotion to Stalin notwithstanding, is a rock. A realistic one at that.

I hope to see more from Ms. Bertucelli soon.

9/10

That's life ...

[dkennedy3 · 8/10 · 12 October 2004]

Unusual film, in that there is no title role as such, and we never do get to meet Otar. We are transported into the everyday lives of three generations of women - grandmother Eka, her daughter Marina, and granddaughter Ada - in their home in what is the genteel decay of Tblisi in the former Soviet republic of Georgia. The scene is set with a clever portrayal of relationships between the three, with the typical small household tensions that normally arise.

But the common favourite in this extended family group is Eka's son, Otar, who is in Paris, making his own way in the world, and regularly contacting those at home by phone and letter. Eka, especially, lives for these contacts from her Otar, so when word reaches the other two that he has been killed in an industrial accident, Marina decides to conceal the fact from her mother and play the lie that he is still alive. Two influencing factors come through regarding that choice of action - firstly, Marina is unsure her mother would survive the shock of hearing of Otar's death, but secondly, we suspect Marina herself is unable to summon the courage to pass on the news. Ada unwillingly agrees to all of this at first, but it becomes an increasing burden on both of them as you would expect. Otar's workmate, Niko, turns up at the Tblisi residence with a suitcase of his personal effects, but Ada manages to convey to him the existence of the lie they are playing before he can reveal Otar's demise in the grandmother's presence. Old Eka is no fool though, and you get the impression she knows all is not as it should be. In a rash moment, she decides to take a trip to France to see her Otar, sells the few family heirlooms of value, and purchases three tickets for them all to travel to Paris. The viewer knows that eventually she will become aware that Otar is dead, but the manner of this, and her reaction towards her daughter and granddaughter, are quite unpredictable and beautiful. It is from here on that she proves to be the tower of strength for the other two. Another nice twist awaits us at the film's conclusion. This is a film full of poignant moments and the stuff of life, and coupled with superb acting by the three attractive women one can only endorse its 2003 Grand Prize at Cannes.

Some kind of masterpiece: viewers of all ages and genders will be swept off their feet

[Mengedegna · 9/10 · 15 October 2003]

Three women -- a grandmother, a middle-aged daughter, and a university-student granddaughter, live together, male-less, in Tblisi amid post-Soviet economic collapse. An occasional hard-currency bill shows up in letters from a beloved son/brother/uncle, who has qualified as a physician but is working as a clandestine laborer in Paris. The women snap at each other, manipulate one another, and confront life as best they can, each from her own perspective and unique experience. There is a large apartment filled with treasured bibelots and French books, and the suggestion of a more respectable, Tchekovianly Francophile pre-revolutionary past.

An image, among many arresting ones in the film: during a thunderstorm the power has gone out, as it frequently does in crumbling Georgia along with the water and the gas, and the apartment is lighted by candles, allowing the granddaughter to study and to be bathed in a kind of De La Tour luminescence. Then the storm ends, the power comes on, and the magic effect yields to harsh electric whiteness. The three generations peel off electronically: mother tunes in local radio to Georgian pop, grandmother turns on the black-and-white TV to watch a comfortingly boring Soviet-style newscast on a new dam (for her, order has gone and all is lost), granddaughter pops a rock cassette into her player and continues to study in a room suddenly flooded with a light in which everything seems more banal, including herself. Great stuff.

The dramatic anchor of the film is an extraordinary performance from the ninety-year-old Esther Gorontin. This is anything but a sweet old lady: she is misanthropic, querulous, petulant and willful, and when she and her daughter are not spitting and spatting, she immures herself in self-satisfied nostalgia, muttering in Russian (never Georgian) that things were better under Stalin. The beloved son is yearned for, spoken of and asked about compulsively, something that is ostensibly treated by her daughter as a tolerable quirk of age, to be humored -- but you can tell it hurts. Stalin and Soviet order are long gone, and son Otar's absence (which is far greater than she is supposed to realize) has left the other huge void in her life. The family's Francophilia allows Otar's experiences in Paris (which are shown to have in reality been quite miserable) to be lived via a romanticized vicariousness that is fed by each letter, always in stiff, old-fashioned French.

Language is an issue, both for Georgia and for the cast, since only the striking, Jeanne-Moreauesque Nino Khomasuridze, who plays the mother, is a native Georgian and speaks the language. Gorontin is Polish, but speaks French and Russian, as does the granddaughter Dinara Drukarova, who is faultless as a bright young woman who keeps much inside and, as the absent Otar puts it in a letter, "rounds out the angles" in the family until, as young people do, she suddenly explodes at her mother with all her long-repressed, Hamletian resentment and spite (and, as young people do, does this at the worst possible emotional moment). Drukarova learned some Georgian for the occasion, but Gorontin understandably refused to do so. Writing and managing the script must have been nightmarish, but the way in which the characters switch from Russian to Georgian and back depending on context and interlocutor seems entirely realistic for post-Soviet Georgia, and the use of French as a language of refuge and a bastion of dignity is in this context completely plausible.

The film will no doubt hold special resonance for woman viewers -- the depiction of a universe from which men are kept at a distance, and of the bitter joys of aging and of inter-generational love and tension is all done with heartbreaking accuracy. But Julie Bertucelli's first film is, with a lot of help from the tremendous Gorontin, some kind of masterpiece and should sweep viewers of all genders and generations off their feet.

Going (and growing) through grief

[livewire-6 · 3 October 2004]

There is a famous photograph, taken in 1852, of three grieving British queens: dowager Queen Mary, Queen Mother Elizabeth, and the not yet crowned reigning Queen Elizabeth. They are mourning the death of King George VI -- a son, a husband, a father. They are clad in black from head to toe, veils and widow's weeds. They are stony-faced in their own individual grief, yet huddled together to give each other comfort.

"Since Otar Left" is like that: a portrait of three generations of grief, and how a Georgian grandmother, mother, and daughter evolve from handling that grief in their own way, to showing concern for the sadness and loss of the other two women.

Of the three, middle-aged Marina is the most grounded in reality, no-nonsense, down to earth. She worries about the day-to-day things: how to keep body and soul together when her brother Otar dies and is no longer able to supplement the family's income. She worries about her mother's health, staying by her bedside and massaging her feet in a very physical and intimate expression of love and caring. She swallows her pride and borrows money from her erstwhile lover, an antiquities dealer, and even considers selling the leather-bound, gold-stamped volumes of French literature that are her father's legacy.

Young Ada responds differently. At first, she is affected in a practical way: mourning makes it difficult for her to concentrate at school, and the loss of income from her brother causes her to resort to petty theft. But she uses her creativity and imagination, and draws inspiration from the same French literature that Marina wants to sell. Ada reinvents her dead brother and clothes him in the brightness of Paris, City of Lights -- the city to which he emigrated and in which he tragically died.

Elderly Eka seems like a combination of the two. Like Marina, she is tough as nails. An early scene shows Eka relishing a rather large piece of cake, and bristling when Marina helps herself to a forkful. We see that, beneath her outward appearance as a kindly old lady with fine white hair, Eka can be petulant and stubborn. She has an iron will and a spine of steel. When she fails to hear from her son Otar for several months, she takes matters into her own hands and decides to go to Paris to find him. Eventually, she learns the truth that he is dead. We see her grief in her sad eyes and her suddenly tired old body. But then Eka surprises us by rising above her own bereavement and reaching out to those who remain.

"Since Otar Left" is a powerful, touching, heart-rending, yet hopeful film. Its characters transcend the realm of celluloid and screenplay, and emerge as well drawn, fully rounded human beings. In the face of death, they respond with the vitality of life. In the face of despair, they shine as beacons of hope. And in the face of loss, they learn the lesson of love.

A must see for French film fans

[=G= · 8/10 · 20 February 2005]

"Since Otar Left" is about three generations of Georgian women (an old women, her daughter, and her granddaughter) who live in austerity in an old flat in Georgia. The grandmother looks forward to letters she receives from her only other offspring, a son Otar, who is working in Paris. When Otar dies unexpectedly, the two younger women intercept the bad news and hatch a plan to keep the letters and the happiness they bring coming to the old woman. As the film develops this meager plot and we watch the women trudge through their mundane daily activities we are unaware of a more significant plot developing before our eyes with both plots culminating suddenly at the film's end.

Those who prefer a steady diet of the usual commercial Hollywood film products will likely find "Since Otar Left" a monotonous film of little consequence. However, those who enjoy the people stories of French cinema with their natural and finely nuanced studies of human nature, this sensitive, plaintive, and charming gem is a fly-on-the-wall look at a slice-of-Georgian-life which should not be missed. (A-)

Letters from the dead

[jotix100 · 8/10 · 29 May 2004]

Watching this film reminded me of a Julio Cortazar short story about the same subject. In a lot of cases the surviving relatives of someone who dies overseas pretend all is well in order to keep the older family members out of the misery of knowing the real truth.

The charade at the center of Julie Bertucelli's bittersweet film is Eka, the old Georgian lady whose son has gone to Paris in search of a better future. Eka, played magnificently by Esther Gorintin, is the main reason for watching this film.

Eka has always been an admirer of the French culture. She speaks the language with gusto; much of the dialog is spoken in French. She is a survivor who doesn't forget the years under Stalin, who according to her thinking could have solved the present problems in Russia, as well as in Georgia, an independent republic now, but facing the after effects of the fall of the Soviet Union. Eka's love for her son is put through the test when he dies in a construction accident, but she never learns about it because Marina, her daughter and Ada, her granddaughter, think it's cruel to tell the old lady the truth.

There is an incredible turn of events when Eka, who has sold her prized French books in order to go to Paris, learns about the fate of her son. It is at this point when her maternal instinct goes into play and in her mind, she decides to keep hope alive.

This film was a complete surprise; it is without pretensions on a story that is plausible. One's heart goes to Eka, who is stronger inside than her fragile body leads us to believe. Nino Khomasuridze, as Marina, the daughter, and especially Dinara Drukarova, as Ada, are very good in the way they interact with Ms. Gorintin, who is without a doubt, the star of the film.

Even though the film deals with the reality of death, the ending is very positive and speaks volumes about Eka, who will carry on in her dignified way forever.

Thanks to Julie Bertucelli for bringing the story to the screen and we shall look forward to seeing any new film from her.

The other side of the disaporic experience

[cwx · 7/10 · 23 May 2006]

This film presents a somewhat clichéd plot about concealing something from a family member for her own good, set off by the fact that it takes place in a little-known country, Georgia, is shot with emotional and artistic honesty, and contains a striking performance by a 95-year-old woman! And although I could see the beginning of the "deception" plot coming, there was at least one twist near the end that I did not anticipate, although I wasn't entirely blown away by it either. The final twist was a lot easier to anticipate, but then, I think that was deliberate. Definitely an interesting depiction of the other side of the disaporic experience, specifically, those who are "left" behind. Not entirely exceptional, but certainly worthwhile.

Magnificent, enriching and worth your time

[Ed-90 · 10/10 · 13 August 2004]

This was one of the best films I've ever seen. It was simply magnificent--human, and true in a way that modern films rarely display. The cinematography was skillful; the amount of time on a given scene varied, with the variety quite significant in terms of its meaning. (For instance, the cut to the "Conservation" (cemetery) was an example of this.) I will see this beautiful film again, and give it my highest recommendation. My hat is off in tribute to the director, producer, writer, and actors.

Not All That Good

[Felix-28 · 6/10 · 8 January 2006]

I was hoping this film would be good, and expecting it to be, but I was disappointed by it.

For me, the basic premise was not acceptable. Otar had gone to Paris and was working there, apparently illegally. In a situation like that, he would have been in contact with a whole network of illegal immigrants, mostly from his own country, and they in turn would have been in contact with relatives at home in Georgia. The relatives at home would have been in contact with each other, with news from the expats in France. Otar's death would have been well known, and it could not have been kept from his mother for months, as it supposedly was.

Also, the trip to Paris at the end. Just what did the sister and daughter think was going to happen in Paris? Did they really think that the mother would not find out?

And then the scene at the end, where the grandmother announces that Otar's gone to America. Really, it was just a bit too much to swallow. Not to mention the daughter deciding to stay in Paris at the last moment: not only is it impossible for non-passengers to see passengers in the gatelounge of an international departure, but a considerable question arises about what the daughter would have done alone in Paris without a visa or any money. In reality, probably end up in a brothel, unless she could look for support from some network of friends, such as the one that would have included Otar until he died ...

Even the scenes in Georgia: they seemed to live in a fairly spacious apartment, and to have plenty to eat and drink, not to mention the dacha in the country. Obviously there were all sorts of problems with the electricity and water, and they spoke about a harsh winter, but we didn't really see a lot of harshness, especially considering that the family seemed to have no substantial income at all. And there seemed to be an awful lot of summer in that particular part of Georgia.

Sort of a nice idea, but not very well done. Watchable, and the actresses were good. 6/10.

The life-cycle of hope

[paul2001sw-1 · 8/10 · 7 March 2007]

With explicit themes such as poverty, exile, old age and death, 'Since Otar Left' does not exactly make a pitch as light entertainment; and a subtle screenplay that wrings every last note of poignancy from its basic scenario could be seen to aggravate matters even further. But as well as its script, this film has other merits, including fine cinematography and excellent performances from its small cast. Perhaps what's best of all is the way that it combines universal themes with the particulars of its situation, in the former Soviet republic of Georgia. The characters' own story reflects (and is indeed part of) the story of the country as a whole; and that is the story of the death, and eventual rebirth, of hope itself. This is a film that isn't always easy viewing, but it's also worth sticking with.

Contrived and unconvincing

[howard.schumann · 6/10 · 7 February 2005]

A French-Belgian co-production, spoken in a blend of Georgian, Russian and French, first-time director Julie Bertucelli's Since Otar Left centers on the lives of three generations of women. An elderly grandmother Eka (Esther Gorintin) lives with her daughter Marina (Nino Khomassouridze) and young granddaughter Ada (Dinara Droukarova) in Tblisi in the former Soviet Republic of Georgia. Conditions are hard in Tblisi and Marina has been forced to sell wares at the local market in spite of her engineering degree. Nothing seems to work properly, the power goes out, phone calls are cut off and Eka longs to recapture life as it was under Joseph Stalin.

Things have not been the same since Eka's beloved son Otar, a doctor, left for France two years ago. Unable to practice medicine legally, Otar (whom we never meet) has had to accept construction work and Eka's life revolves around his periodic letters and phone calls. Thirty minutes into the film we learn some distressing news about Otar. Marina and Ada, fearful of how it will affect Eka, withhold the information, pursuing an elaborate scheme of deception. They forge his letters and make up excuses why he has not called. Everything works well for a time but things begin to unravel when Eka, having not spoken to Otar in seven months, sells her esteemed collection of French literature to raise money to travel to Paris in an attempt to find Otar. When Marina and Ada decide to go with Eka, an adventure awaits them as the film veers off in an unexpected direction.

The performances of the three women are remarkable and Ms. Gorintin does an admirable job of conveying a stoop-shouldered, sentimental old woman, yet her character is a doddering stereotype, too typical of the way old people are portrayed in films. A film about generational conflicts and the problems of the elderly is welcome but Ms. Bertucelli does not explore these issues in any depth and the plot implausibilities are numerous. Marina forges Otar's letters but Eka never checks the postmark. Otar fails to telephone for seven months, yet Eka only has a "hint" that something might be wrong. The family allows Eka to sell her prized possession without trying to ascertain the purpose of her actions, and there are many others. Since Otar Left won the Critics Week Grand Prize at the 2003 Cannes Film Festival and the Cesar Award for Best First Work but I found it contrived and unconvincing, content with ersatz warmth, "colorful" ethnic characters, and overly literate dialogue that does not ring true.

Accurate depiction of Post-Soviet decline and emotional regeneration

[zhenca · 8/10 · 17 May 2005]

"Depuis qu'Otar est parti" is a very personal, I would even say, miniature story about very ordinary people, living in far less than glamorous conditions in faraway Georgia. If you are after that small-scale retrospective type of cinema art, you will enjoy the film because it portrays character development and relationship between three female protagonist very well - with deep insight and savvy.

But apart from being a solid and interesting drama that leads its characters through emotional debris to internal grit and, finally, to some glimpse of hope (for how, read other comments or better watch it), this film signifies for me, a native of the former USSR, a far broader and more intimate picture of the material and emotional decline in post-Soviet countries after the communist collapse.

Deteriorated poor Georgia and emotional confusion of the people was so authentic that I thought the film was shot by a native Georgian (Otar Iosselianni even crossed my mind) and was surprised to learn in the captions that a French director had actually made it. So real and natural was the depiction not only of the Georgian family's life with all those outdated interiors and city landscapes but also of the characters' psychological state, their behavior, their little skirmishes and caring relationship with each other. The film felt like being shot by a true Georgian, who loves and appreciates those quirky ways and habits of her fellow countrymen. The desolate state of mind, entanglement in those little ordinary lies looked also so familiar, reminding of the life in mid-90s Russia and today's reality in many backward provinces and republics of the former USSR.

I guess I should re-think my notion that only native artists can impart authenticity to the portrayal of national character and spirit on screen.

Kudos to Ms Bertucelli for capturing this murky but also hopeful Zeitgeist of the lost epoch!!!

Georgian illusions

[stensson · 7/10 · 1 August 2004]

The plot is about the Georgian son, working without working permission in Paris and therefore a victim of non existing security as a construction worker. His family, mother sister and niece, are still in Tblisi and they get letters. His old mother lives for that.

One day the son dies in an accident and his sister and niece don't know how to tell his mother. They decide to keep the illusion. They produce letters supposed to be from the son and read them loud to the mother. One day the old woman wants to go to Paris...

Here is really good acting in a movie which shows life like it certainly can be. The tempo is "slow", like it might occur in the so called reality. The "fake letter" plot has been used before however, but in the end you still have questions. There are many possible alternatives. Definitely worth seeing, not only because it isn't from UK or US.

didn't touch me

[ebalf · 4/10 · 2 June 2004]

The critics were like "a movie that will break your heart" etc. So a friend of mine and I had great expectations when we decided to watch this movie.

I'll make it short and leave it up to others to write about its content. This movie tries to touch you, to reach your heart. But it fails. At least for me. And for my friend, too.

Everything that happened happened only on the screen. It was always THERE, not HERE, where I am. I thought most of the time "hmm, something's happening on the screen, but it's only on the screen. It's not real."

Movies which succeeded MUCH better in touching me: East of Eden (1955), Terms of Endearment (1983), Jerry Maguire (1996), Babe (1995), Mies vailla menneisyyttä (2002)

A Household of Women Faces the Big Lie and Little Ones

[noralee · 30 May 2004]

"Since Otar Left (Depuis qu'Otar est parti...)" deals heartbreakingly humanistically with many of the same political and family issues that "Goodbye, Lenin!" treats for humor -- today's ironic adjustment to capitalism in former U.S.S.R. satellites, the cross-generational responsibilities of those who lived under the Big Lies, and filial love.

With dialogue in French, Georgian, and Russian, debut writer/directer Julie Bertucelli focuses on a Francophile household of an earthy grandmother, mother, and daughter in Georgia and their relationships to the dead, absent, and present men who are satellites in their lives.

While there's reminders of O. Henry's "The Gift of the Magi" and "The Last Leaf," not a single character is a cliche or dumb and none of their decisions is predictable. The audience literally holds its breath to see each woman's reactions as their emotional predicaments get more complicated in a weave of their own making.

The actresses, from 21 to 90 years old, brilliantly convey the complex emotional see saw.

A simply beautiful movie that's one of the best of the year.

It brings to mind Makk Karoly's classic Hungarian film "Szerelem" (love)

[FilmCriticLalitRao · 10/10 · 10 August 2007]

Since Otar has left is a humanist tale directed by Julie Bertucelli who in the past worked as assistant to great Georgian master of cinema Otar Iosseliani.This film can be likened to Samuel Beckett's famous play "Waiting for Godot" as in both these works of art the important focal element is that of patience.For those who are into serious cinema mention must be made of Hungarian classic film "Szerelem" directed by Makk Karoly.Both these films have a lot of common elements namely protagonists who are not near their families as well as brave women who carry on with their own personal lives in the absence of a male member in their life.Some astute viewers might like to know about Georgia-France connection as depicted in the film.This comes from the fact that one of the film's characters is interested in French language and literature and for that purpose at her home,she has a very good collection of classics of French literature.The only defect of this film is its innocuous end which might appear as too deceitfully agreeable to some astute viewers.

Beautiful portrait of 3 women

[tinmar · 8/10 · 22 September 2003]

This first feature film is a delicate, moving portrait of 3 women in Georgia, trying to get through their everyday life. They will eventually manage to, in very beautiful way... If you can, watch "Voyages" as well, by Emmanuel Finkiel, starring this amazing old lady as well...

Interesting, touching study of a family in crisis

[runamokprods · 7/10 · 20 July 2012]

A sweet and human film that is perhaps just a little too slow and distanced for it's own good.

The strengths of this French film set in post-communist Russia include quiet but powerful observance of detail, and understated, very real performances and perceptive performances.

But somehow, I was never as drawn in or moved as I expected to be, based on the amazing reviews this received. And maybe that was the problem. There's nothing like review over-hype to set you up for a let down with a small, quiet, intimate solid film. So I will give this another look.

Fantastic Cinematic Control

[tommyg · 9/10 · 24 May 2004]

If this is, indeed, Julie Bertucelli's first movie as Director, then I am truly impressed. From the very first scenes, I was ruptured by the resourcefulness and simplicity in the powerful storytelling and movement of the film. In fact, the film was a study in cinematography in which the film itself is almost an art form. The combination of simple scenes with audio transition overlays gave the viewer a broader sense of things happening -- even if by suggestion and without undue visual distraction.

I found myself admiring the camera's creative photography (i.e. Director's eye) along with a layer of audio collages which surround the actors in their own roles and environment. I was as if I were taking in three art forms at once.

This film would surely work well as a "study" by any budding film school enthusiastic -- particularly if the budget is lean and cast is skillful.

Women of Three Generations Together

[JustApt · 10/10 · 23 June 2010]

Post-Soviet Georgia, impoverishment and depression, an old and unwell mother lives with her daughter and granddaughter while her dear son who is a doctor due to unemployment has gone to France as a working man. The mother lives in constant waiting for a next letter from him or a telephone call and to see Otar again before her death became a sole purpose of her life. One day her daughter learns that her brother has died in an accident, she is afraid for her mother so both younger women hide the grave news. They begin to falsify letters and show them to the old woman who begins to suspect that something is wrong. The psychological drama Since Otar Left is extremely sad and compassionate film.

Writer gets a 10---execution of the script an 8.

[filmalamosa · 8/10 · 21 December 2011]

A Georgian mother's son lives in France. The mother lives for him more than anything in life. He dies and her daughter starts sending forged letters to keep her mother from finding out.

This film proves a point. The writer trumps everything. All the cinematography acting directing cannot make bad writing good. (As an aside, the converse is unfortunately not true--a good story can be easily ruined.) In any case, this was a great script with a foreign twist (filmed in Georgia). It was well enough written to be a 10.

I took off a couple stars because the old lady was too cloy to totally believe. Everything was there for a 10 but it is just a little too sentimental "feel good" and cliché. On the plus side there were some quite funny unexpected exchanges e.g. the post office scene (the writer!).

The surprise ending bumped it up to an 8.

RECOMMEND

Life in nostalgic universe

[Vincentiu · 10 January 2007]

It is very difficult to define this film. In fact, every definition is fake because the essence of words or gestures is ineffable.

Otar may be a type of Godot. The incarnated hope, the symbol of filling or image of any victim.

The three women- variant of Tchekov's "Three sisters".

But the reality is not so easy. In East Europe of Communist era, The Occident was the Heaven in all senses. It was the lost Paradis, the normality, the escape. A part of this wonderful world was shield against the daily nightmare. The fall of Communism was not the solution. Occident is a form of chimera not like education or mentality's result but like the personal treasure.

The film is not a moral lesson or image of ex-Sovietic country in transition to European values. It is not an Andre Makine's page. It is only a short life's story and description of a subtle escape. It is slice of dream's rules, descending in past who remains only present and future.

Esther Gorintin's acting is magnificent. A powerful character with a victim's mask, a fragile grandmother for who the life is not only fight or fear, past memories or sweet desire but a form of world's contemplation.

In fact, Eka is the Ada's image. And Otar's death- solution of interior crisis of every character. The end of life in nostalgic universe.

An Unassuming But Lovely Film

[aliasanythingyouwant · 17 October 2005]

There's very little to say about Since Otar Left, except that it is a radiantly human film, and all the more so for its modesty, its sense of proportion. It deals with a family that could be from almost anywhere on earth, but happens to be from The Republic of Georgia: the matriarch, Eka, waits patiently for letters from her son Otar, who lives in Paris; her daughter Marina sells off the family heirlooms one-by-one at a flea market, trying to keep up with the bills, while her granddaughter Ada yearns for better things. Eka is a stubborn old Stalinist - she still believes Stalin was a good man, The Father - but most of her faith is invested in Otar, a doctor, whose life in Paris seems scarcely more prosperous than that of Eka, Marina and Ada, who live together in a small apartment where the water and electricity are sometimes on. They live there surrounded by books, French books once owned by Eka's husband, who hid them from the police in the time of Stalin (they could sell them for a fortune but Eka refuses). Eka and Ada speak French to each other; for them France represents something better, and Otar's letters from France are their connection to that better place far from the troubles of daily existence (never mind that the same troubles exist everywhere). Bad news comes one day in the form of a phone call; Marina learns that Otar has been hurt in an accident, and she and Ada later discover that he has died. Believing her faith in Otar to be all that keeps the aged Eka alive, Marina and Ada conspire to hide the truth from her, concocting letters from Otar (Ada knows how to copy his handwriting). Eka doesn't seem to suspect the truth, but she's a cagey old bird, and decides one day to sell off the books at last and use the money to fly to Paris and see her son.

There is nothing remarkable about Since Otar Left, and that is precisely what is remarkable about it. Melodramatic art is not employed in the name of making these characters seem more interesting than they are; it is a film of such maturity, such even-handedness that it makes conventional melodrama seem hyperbolic and hollow. Director Julie Bertucelli has an unemphatic approach to storytelling that's reminiscent of Iranian cinema; she might have studied at the knee of Jafar Panahi or Majid Majidi. The only thing she lacks compared to those giants of Iranian neo-realism is their sense of poetry. Since Otar Left is not as formidable a film as The Color of Paradise or Crimson Gold - it has the even-toned, humanistic feeling of an Iranian film while still being rooted in European naturalism. In other words it is not as mysterious as the works of Panahi or Majidi, it doesn't seem touched by the mystical. It lacks that other, hard-to-define dimension that takes the great Iranian works outside the realm of mere naturalistic film-making and into someplace almost cosmic - but this is no knock on Bertucelli, who has made an enchanting movie just by following her characters, by paying attention to the little details. She has created three memorable, keenly-observed characters, and has elicited a trio of fine, understated performances. Esther Gorintin plays Eka, the old peasant, with a poignant combination of frailty and toughness; her stooped, hunchbacked body seems fragile and sturdy at the same time, and she has a sneaky intelligence. Eka is both loved and resented by Marina, whom Nino Khomasuridze invests with a neurotic tension, the left-overs of some childhood competition with Otar over their mother's affection. In between the two combative women stands Ada, the very picture of youthful restlessness tempered with pragmatism. The actress who plays her, Dinara Drukarova, has the kind of face one might expect to see on the cover of a magazine, a mask-like, enigmatic face, and with it Drukarova projects both Ada's longing and her groundedness. Ada is closest to Eka - she's not afflicted with her mother's neurosis, but has inherited Eka's stolidness, her rock-like resolve. Julie Bertucelli defines these characters beautifully, their complicated relationships, and constructs around them a film that is as unassuming, as charming, as secretly complex as they are.

A Tale of Three Women

[Sinnerman · 28 August 2004]

I have always professed a weakness for films about fathers and sons, or more broadly, those which can make me weep. Since Otar Left did none of the above.

No matter, as the layers of truths revealed in Since Otar Left astounded me. For instance, this film understood middle-aged daughters. To a certain degree, they are jealous of the perceived greater affection their mothers have for sons. (I have seen such mindsets in my relations). This self-doubtful disgruntlement may not degrade their love, but it imprisons them all the same. Sadly, by the time a person (man or woman) reaches middle-age, a dogmatic mind invariably sets in. Reconciliation on above regretful things is hence, no longer an easy thing.

Swinging from the pivot of middle age lies two extremes of womanhood, youth and old age. Throughout, the grandmother displayed surprising power and tenacity. Her resolve to find her son and her acceptance of what she found, speaks volume about the steely strengths stored in those whom we'd often think too weak. The young granddaughter is idealistic, quiet but undeniably seething with latent anger. Blessed with uncanny intuition, she sees her spirits slowly sucked dry by the failure of the system and the heavy baggage of her family. Her ambitious decisiveness in breaking free from her chains, is symbolic and uplifting. It helped the film to end on a genuinely hopeful note.

On another level, there's a running theme in films I particularly respond to; the telling of "lies". "So what if we know (about the lies told)?" "So what if we don't know?" Goodbye Lenin attempted to essay this morality conundrum with a son hiding from his mother, the fall of a socio-political system. By shading its arguable propaganda with the sensitivity of familial love and stunning piety, that film dispensed a balmy mix of warmth and sincerity. Thus heartening tears were shed by this sentimental sod.

That said, it is now my opinion that the "tearless" Since Otar Left embraced so much more of above tricky theme. By film's end, it delivered something which only the greatest films do; invaluable human lessons. We may have been told lies or are guilty of telling them. But if we take the time to unravel the "truths" behind them, the lies may no longer matter. For sometimes, the purity of good intentions may suffice.

Hence IMO, to hail Since Otar Left as a life affirming masterpiece is highly justifiable. In a mere 100 odd minutes, it dethreaded the complex tapestry of the human heart and distilled life's essence into basic building blocks like trust, hope, kinship and unconditional love. It exudes goodness of heart and truthfulness of emotions. This effortlessly cathartic film shall receive the Sinnerman's stamp of approval till my saliva-laced ink run dry.

In closing, I think films like Since Otar Left cement my faith in a most purposeful of religions; cinema. For bit by bit, they shape my being and nourish my spiritual hunger. All in, they fuel my desire to chase for life's meanings. Hopefully, when this search is over, I will be found.

Goodbye Lenin, with gritty reality

[mbyrne-3 · 22 April 2004]

Having seen this film at the Hong Kong International Film Fest, I can echo the comments of other users here. The film is a beautifully observed portrait of relationships between 3 totally different generations of women and the impoverished state of the present day Trblisi, Georgia where they live.

NOT A SPOILER

A lasting memory of the film for me is the touching way in which towards the end the grandmother saves face for both the mother and granddaughter. Showing that although she may seem dotty, she is in fact sharper than the other 2 women put together.

A truly honest film, well worth seeing.

Rating 8.5/10