The director’s interest in Vrej’s life serves as a powerful metaphor for the nation’s recalcitrance, living on the land mired in decades of war. Young boys grow up only to go to the front—the reality of many men from Artsakh. “Another war, another escape,” laments Vrej’s devastated grandmother when the family is forced to flee their village in Artsakh for Armenia. In their refuge, Hairabedian elucidates how the war is experienced differently by adults and children. While the grandmother is glued to the screen, following the updates from the front, Vrej and his siblings pretend to be soldiers. Vrej, however, is already on the cusp of adolescence, one foot in sweet childhood and the other in the adult world. He eavesdrops attentively to the elders’ denunciations of the war, and listens to the uplifting songs in Armenian that invoke a sense of patriotism and duty.
The family comes back to their home village after the ceasefire agreement declared that seventy percent of Artsakh would be under the control of Azerbaijan. Martakert, Vrej’s birthplace, is just one kilometer away from the new border. In a dynamically edited sequence set to a sentimental soundtrack, Hairabedian conveys the family's sense of relief and temporary joy at returning home. Arriving in Martakert, Hairabedian’s camera swiftly surveys the state of affairs by showing the detritus around Vrej’s school with its broken windows. But the director does not fall back on a recurrent motif that has come to symbolise the lineage of Armenian genocide films: blossoming trees replete with ripe apples, pomegranates and apricots, and their subsequent destruction, later seen in desolate gardens and demolished houses. It is only for a very brief moment that the director hones in on the image of pomegranate trees in an abandoned garden.
Hairabedian’s fly on the wall technique carefully observes her subjects, giving them space to express their grievances. The director’s role is one of bearing witness, together with the family. In the final act of the film, two years after the conflict, Vrej, now 13, confronts Hairabedian directly, wanting to know how she will end the film: with the hero’s (his) death, or his survival despite all odds? Suddenly the roles change and Vrej is seemingly aware of the fact that his nation’s defiance is directly proportional to his future. At school, he learns about de-mining and takes military training lessons. Is that what education is for? In the space left between the film’s final shot and the credit roll, the title cards inform the audience that a year later, Vrej’s family had to flee because of the Azeri’s military assault. How can we measure people’s resilience in the face of ongoing strife? Will the family eventually return to Martakert so that Vrej’s younger siblings can learn about mine clearance just like he had to?
Botagoz Koilybayeva
