And Then We Danced

Traditional Georgian dance is not for everyone. Not even for every type of dancer, no matter how good or talented they might be. In Levan Akin’s film, this type of almost militaristic dance works as a clear metaphor for the country itself and its refusal to acknowledge any kind of alternative lifestyle and/or sexual choices. Merab could be a great dancer but his moves might be a bit too feminine for the strict, masculine style of the Georgian National Ensemble, no matter how much he tries to disguise them. And this applies to his personal life too, since he tries to hide his sexual desires from both himself and everyone else, even keeping them secret from his surprisingly homophobic colleagues. The arrival of Irakli, another dancer who becomes a competitor for the same position at the Ensemble as well as a potential, but repressed love interest, creates a deep conflict in Merab that the film explores through an intense and increasingly dramatic series of events.
This is a film about two clashing desires that can only be resolved using the body as a weapon. A weapon of male destruction. (Diego Lerer)

In the presence of Bachi Valishvili.