Anna Mkrtumyan’s short film Armat uses the metaphor of trees to delve into the trauma of displacement, particularly focusing on the experience of Armenians from Artsakh. The film begins with images of a forest, accompanied by a conversation with Mkrtumyan’s grandmother, who reflects on what she took when forced to leave her home. In an effort to understand the emotional and physical consequences of uprooting, the filmmaker turns to science, engaging with a biologist who explains how removing trees from their environment weakens the entire ecosystem, much like the displacement of people. Through this lens, Armat explores the deep, often invisible connection between people and land. Mkrtumyan juxtaposes the scientific explanation with personal stories, including her grandmother’s painful memories of choosing which items to take when fleeing, illustrating the emotional cost of leaving one’s homeland. The trauma captured in the film echoes the reality faced by Armenians from Artsakh, particularly following the large-scale military attack by Azerbaijan on September 19, 2023, which led to the forced displacement of 120,000 people. With its calm pacing and reflective imagery, Armat is a poetic exploration of the fragility of identity, belonging, and the trauma of displacement, offering a profound meditation on the scars that linger long after people are uprooted from the land they call home.
Sareen Hairabedian’s feature, My Sweet Land, presents a carefully observed portrait of life in Nagorno-Karabakh through the eyes of Vrej, a young boy navigating the brutal consequences of the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh war and forced displacement. By focusing on his perspective, the film delves into themes of identity, community, and the quiet resilience of a people enduring the ongoing struggle for control over their land. Hairabedian’s choice to film with a handheld camcorder brings a sense of immediacy to the story, capturing small, everyday moments that feel deeply authentic. The observational style allows the audience to witness life as it unfolds—from the quiet rituals of daily life to reflective, unspoken exchanges. The filmmaker refrains from idealizing the children's willingness to fight for their homeland, instead presenting this resistance as a necessity rather than a passionate choice. Vrej’s matter-of-fact acceptance of his role highlights how deeply survival and duty are woven into the lives of children growing up in this long-standing territorial conflict. My Sweet Land is a measured, humanistic exploration of life shaped by war and the injustices faced by a community caught in an unending struggle for survival and self-determination.
Shoghakat Vardanyan’s feature 1489 documents her family’s harrowing search for answers after her brother Soghomon goes missing during the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh war. Filmed entirely on her phone, the documentary offers an unfiltered look at two years of waiting, grief, and fragile hope, as Vardanyan and her parents struggle to cope with the uncertainty of his fate. The title, taken from the identification code assigned to Soghomon’s remains, underscores the dehumanizing toll of war while honoring the profound loss behind the number. Vardanyan’s decision to document even the most private moments gives the film a raw and emotional urgency. Her camera captures the family’s anguish in everyday settings—desperate phone calls, quiet meals, and moments of unspoken despair—offering viewers a deeply personal glimpse into the relentless weight of not knowing. The observational style invites the audience to witness, rather than dramatize, their collective pain. The film navigates both personal and political dimensions, examining the emotional toll of the 2020 war while also addressing the broader consequences for families still seeking closure in the aftermath of the conflict. Through her brother’s story, Vardanyan reveals the unimaginable cost of war and the deep injustice faced by families caught in a conflict that continues to tear lives apart. 1489 is a poignant exploration of grief, resilience, and the enduring ache of loss, as well as the continuing struggle for justice in the wake of violence and displacement.
Carolina Schmidt
Cover photo: Film still from Armat (Anna Mkrtumyan, 2024)
