A Georgian woman’s search for her estranged trans niece forms a sublime chronicle of life in Istanbul, a compelling odd-couple road trip, and a series of intriguing intersections.
With tremendous aplomb, the Georgian actor Mzia Arabuli plays Lia, a haughty former history teacher who commands respect in the Batumi community where she lives. She’s on a mission. She sells gold to finance an odyssey to Turkey. She is accompanied by Achi (Lucas Kankava), the gangly overlooked kid brother of one of her ex-pupils. Achi is itching to get to the big city, where he swiftly finds younger, amiable companions.
Writer-director Levan Akin, the Georgian-Swedish director who scored an international LGBTQ-themed hit with And Then We Danced, shifts between registers and perspectives with the deftness of a well-written novel.
Street urchins Izzet (Bünyamin Değer) and Gülpembe (Sema Sultan Elekci) busk and beg. Cinematographer Lisabi Fridell zeroes in on Evrim (Deniz Dumanl), a lawyer working for an NGO and advocate for trans rights. Evrim’s nocturnal brush with a flirtatious cab driver (Ziya Sudançıkmaz) is mirrored by Lia’s overly amorous overtures to a fellow Georgian (Levan Gabrichidze) whom she and Achi encounter.
Wicked director Jon Chu: ‘Everyone’s whispering behind your back at what a terrible decision this is or that was’
Joy: Thomasin McKenzie is luminous in a film about the journey towards test-tube babies that feels more like classy telly
Housewife of the Year: A wistful celebration of a generation of Irish women who competed for £300 and a gas stove
Witches: A pioneering investigation of post-partum psychosis
Lia’s search for Tekla, her beloved, missing relative takes her to the heart of the red-light district where trans women live precarious, brothel-hopping lives. The gorgeous twilight lensing and repeated waterbound journeys remind us that this is where “people come to disappear”. An intertitle tells us that gender is neutral in Georgian and Turkish. But a dark tale recalls how one father killed his trans offspring.
The froideur of the central two-step between Lia and Achi thaws into companionship. Her Soviet-era schooling and reserve are easily dented by a few shots of chacha (the Georgian answer to poitín). A final audacious flight of fancy outlines a rich interior life.
Following on from Blackbird Blackbird Blackberry, Crossing gifts us the second essential Georgian screen heroine of 2024.
