Synopsis
Living in Almaty, Kazakhstan, a young man is preparing to become a bus conductor. One day, in between wandering the city streets and going to the movies, he makes the acquaintance of a female student.
Living in Almaty, Kazakhstan, a young man is preparing to become a bus conductor. One day, in between wandering the city streets and going to the movies, he makes the acquaintance of a female student.
Kaïrat, 卡依哈
A film of transitions (from steppe to city, from adolescent to... well, still mostly adolescent, but maybe a little less so), rites of passage alongside physical movement (trains, so many trains). Navigating space or time (the former for practical purposes, the latter as part of growing up) is meditated on throughout, soft touches, simple rejections, quiet considerations. Small events have consequences, feeling bigger than perhaps they are. Beauty in urban decay and urban progress sprawls through greyscale slice-of-life.
March count: 12/31
Country: Kazakhstan
Darezhan Omirbayev second feature is a good reminder he was one of the most underrated filmmakers of the 90s. At its best, Kairat has such a concentrated mise en scene and eye for human behavior it is a shame a filmmaker like him was allowed to slip by.
E eis que chegamos, depois de dez filmes, dez encontros, dezoito textos e um expressivo atraso, ao encerramento do nosso dossiê em homenagem aos 25 anos da revista La Lettre du Cinéma. Para isto traduzimos a entrevista que Christine Martin (ex-editora chefe da revista) nos concedeu no começo do ano, no apartamento que por tantos anos recebeu as reuniões do comitê de redação. Nesta conversa, Christine completa o quadro desenhado pelos seus colegas. Sendo a única fundadora da revista que não produzia obras de arte, ela nos relata a experiência de uma outra perspectiva: a perspectiva do trabalho.
Serge Daney dizia que o crítico precisa escrever sabendo que no dia seguinte o seu texto vai embrulhar os peixes na feira.…
Urban alienation, loneliness, aimlessness of youth. A film of gestures and small moments, done with Bressonian minimalism. Really good debut.
Stones breaking train windows. Touching elbows, touching hands, falling snow, digressing daydreams, how it feels to be lonely in the world. Omirbayev’s bressonian dramaturgy and his patient play with gazes, rhythm and the film’s structure is really engrossing.
Small gestures play the most important part in Omirbaev's cinema. The unpredictable track of glances and hands hides the spectrum of emotions, each very simple yet mysterious. The gap between awake and dreaming has rarely looked so real on the silver screen. There's something only cinema can tell. So much can be told about loneliness with so little... somewhere in the subtext lies the ultimate truth.
Adulthood arrives like a rock hurled through the window of the train taking you to the big city; it didn’t injure you, just very startling is all. Going to the place where people are supposed to make something of themselves (what were they before?), and finding out there’s nothing much to do. “Man is an abyss,” the arcade attendant reads aloud from his book. “Watching him causes dizziness.” Elliptical editing and Bressonian sound design hauntingly evoke the way Kairat doesn’t really achieve much of anything, but things simply happen to him; like his tendency to walk out of movies before they’re over, left waiting for the meaning-giving punctation mark that never comes. A climax in a train station hints at some policier that finally seems to be unfolding, until Omirbayev finds instead that the only thing really happening is a little boy losing out on a claw game’s false promise of a prize.
La melancolía y puesta en escena de "Kairat" son de otro tiempo, con una afinidad a las películas del japonés Hiroshi Shimizu, pero inseparables de las preocupaciones inmediatas de sus personajes. Temas modestos que bajo la lente de Omirbayev cobran una trascendencia que no nos hace percibirlos como ajenos, sino como propios.
قصة مأساوية عن جنون العظمة المتزايد وإراقة الدماء التي تواجهها الطبقة العاملة الكازاخستانية، وتأثيرات الإمبريالية المستخدمة كآلية للتكيف مع الإحباط الذي تعيشه البلاد، وأهمية صعود وهبوط السياسة في كازاخستان. إن العديد من مشاكل البلاد بعيدة كل البعد عن الحل منذ إصدار هذا الفيلم. وفي الواقع بدأت مشاكل جديدة حاليًا مع العيوب المزورة التي زُرعت في النظام. كان هذا الفيلم بمثابة طعم مرير للحقيقة، وتحذير حزين من الوضع المزري لمصير كازاخستان
يتجول خيرات بلا هدف في مدينة خاوية خلال الصيف، ويقدم وجهة نظر مثيرة للاهتمام حول الوحدة والحب في حقبة ما بعد الاتحاد السوفييتي في كازاخستان. يفتقر الفيلم إلى الحوار ويختار الوحدة والاغتراب لتحريك الفيلم. إن استخدام المشاهد الشبيهة بالأحلام يتناسب بشكل رائع من أجل رسم صورة الوحدة التي نرى خيرات…
A film about love, loneliness and the fear of those two. A film about watching, and being watched. A film about falling asleep and dreaming. But most of all a film about waking up into a world that never stops to betray you.
Although Kairat dabbles in understated rebellion, its primary language is loneliness and detachment, lost in a world that seems to lack fulfillment or meaning. The premise perhaps sounds a bit standard, but Omirbayev executes it with such skillful minimalism. In moments where symbolism of empty transitional time is perhaps on the nose, the product is still balanced with tactile soundscapes and richness of feeling, creating a film that sits between technical skill, symbolic meaning, and emotional content. Quite a hidden Kazakh gem, with or without its Soviet/post-Soviet context.
Interesting slice-of-life film from Kazakhstan, the version that I watched had pretty disastrously out-of-sync subtitles in place which made the dialogue hard to follow, but thankfully there's not a lot of it. I enjoyed the low-key atmosphere and stark monochrome cinematography - lots of scenes on trundling trains, weirdly relaxing. The plot, such as it is, mostly seems to revolve around small encounters as Kaïrat (the protagonist, not the movie) goes about his life - some charming moments of subtle humour definitely made it across despite the subtitle issue.