troisoiseaux

I've been on a kick of Netflix's foreign-language offerings lately, and tonight I watched a Georgian film called My Happy Family (ჩემი ბედნიერი ოჯახი).

A collection of thoughts in no particular order:

It's a slow, gorgeous film that follows a married, middle-aged mother and schoolteacher, Manana, who decides to leave the house where she lives with three generations of her family - her mother and step-father, her husband, their two children and a son-in-law - and move into her own apartment.

My favorite parts of the movie were the short, wordless scenes interspersed between the ones that moved the plot forward, which focused on Manana settling in and enjoying her new life alone in her apartment: cutting herself a slice of cake and eating it by an open window while classical music plays over the sound of rustling leaves and light streams into the room; grading papers over a glass of wine; teaching herself to play guitar.

Another scene that struck me deeply was a conversation between Manana and her mother early in the film, as the family is thrown into catastrophe over Manana's decision to leave. Her mother argues that Manana doesn't know how good she has it: her husband doesn't drink or beat her, etc., while she (the mother) had suffered greatly in her marriage to Manana's father. (Although Manana's husband is hardly Mr. Innocent Victim here, as we find out in a hell of a plot twist.) It reminded me of a Tumblr post I saw recently, about how abusive men essentially lower women's standards for relationships: he may never lift a finger to help around the house, but at least he's never gotten violent! He's a good guy! Like, the bar should not be that low.

The music was gorgeous! There were several songs throughout the film, sung almost a capella except for a guitar. I don't know anything about Georgian music, but based on the sound (and lyrics, translated in the subtitles, and... well, the fact that everyone seemed to know the songs well enough to spontaneously perform them) I sort of instinctively assumed they were traditional folk songs? Regardless of whatever cultural context I'm missing, it struck whatever internal cord always gives me chills when I hear a good sea shanty.

I was very interested in this film because I'd never seen anything set in Georgia before, and this slice-of-life film felt like a very genuine introduction, like peering through a window into a place I'd never seen before while life goes on as normal. I did feel a bit of culture shock when, early in the film, Manana pulls a 17-year-old student aside to discuss her recent absence from school only to discover that the girl just got divorced, and the subplot concerning Manana's 23-year-old daughter's frustration that she still wasn't pregnant after a whole year of marriage.

Overall thoughts: this is one of those wonderful movies that left me feeling a little more human afterwards. Definitely recommend!