Beshkempir: The Adopted Son

Rating:
Summary: Old story, new storyteller.
Review: The Esperanto of film narrative appears to be the (male) rites-of-passage. From Vigo to Truffaut to Yang, from China to Iran to Hollywood, the story of a young boy rising to man's estate is in danger of becoming tediously over-familiar. Although this is the first film produced by the former Soviet colony of Kyrgyzstan, there is nothing here to scare anyone who's seen 'Stand By Me' or 'George Washington' - a group of pubescent boys mess about one long, hot summer, splashing about in mud pools, staring rapt at bathing matriarchs, thieving, fighting, going to the cinema, struggling with parents and societal expectations, watching older boys beginning romances. Like a young Truffaut hero, the title character's attempts to fit in are fraught with obstacles, in particular the fact that he is a foundling orphan, which is crucially brought against him when he beats his best friend for the affections of an eternally-grinning young woman.

Yes, we've seen it a thousand times. What distinguishes a talented director from a hack is the fresh way he finds of enlivening stock material. Aktan Abdykalyakov is luckier than most, in that his country has never been represented on screen, so this strange new world has an inherent, novel fascination of its own. Abdykalyakov never allows the necessities of plot overwhelm his evocation of place, a rural village barely touched by modernisation. Clothing, bicycles, cinema are among the few reminders of the 20th century, as we watch formal ceremonies celebrating birth and death, concentrate on people silently working, beating carpets, creating mud bricks, breaking in horses, gutting fish. The soundtrack is never a mere backdrop, but has an intense ambient presence: the sounds of birds, insects, wind, trees, water, distant voices all creating a powerful character against which is offset the main narrative.

But this world would risk being mere exotic colour if it wasn't for Abdykalyakov's very real skill as a film-maker. He shoots his story mostly in monochrome, punctuated with odd shocks of colour, usually symbolic. This can have a startling, epiphanic effect, such as the hushed, black-and-white open-air audience watching a colour Bollywood musical; or the Paradjanov-miniature in which a brightly-coloured kingfisher hits against a darkly-framed window. Alternating static compositions with long sequence shots, Abdykalyakov achieves some extraordinary effects with light, whether it is a child playing with a mirror, or the otherworldly fade-outs accompanying threshold rituals. The most amazing sequence in the film sees a young boys' fight in a snaking river played out and spent as the sun dazzles the splashing of water; as the combatants lurk off the frame, the camera stays on the river and the increasingly prominent natural sound, in a Renoir-like tableau of quiet dignity.

Rating:
Summary: Old story, new storyteller.
Review: The Esperanto of film narrative appears to be the (male) rites-of-passage. From Vigo to Truffaut to Yang, from China to Iran to Hollywood, the story of a young boy rising to man's estate is in danger of becoming tediously over-familiar. Although this is the first film produced by the former Soviet colony of Kyrgyzstan, there is nothing here to scare anyone who's seen 'Stand By Me' or 'George Washington' - a group of pubescent boys mess about one long, hot summer, splashing about in mud pools, staring rapt at bathing matriarchs, thieving, fighting, going to the cinema, struggling with parents and societal expectations, watching older boys beginning romances. Like a young Truffaut hero, the title character's attempts to fit in are fraught with obstacles, in particular the fact that he is a foundling orphan, which is crucially brought against him when he beats his best friend for the affections of an eternally-grinning young woman.

Yes, we've seen it a thousand times. What distinguishes a talented director from a hack is the fresh way he finds of enlivening stock material. Aktan Abdykalyakov is luckier than most, in that his country has never been represented on screen, so this strange new world has an inherent, novel fascination of its own. Abdykalyakov never allows the necessities of plot overwhelm his evocation of place, a rural village barely touched by modernisation. Clothing, bicycles, cinema are among the few reminders of the 20th century, as we watch formal ceremonies celebrating birth and death, concentrate on people silently working, beating carpets, creating mud bricks, breaking in horses, gutting fish. The soundtrack is never a mere backdrop, but has an intense ambient presence: the sounds of birds, insects, wind, trees, water, distant voices all creating a powerful character against which is offset the main narrative.

But this world would risk being mere exotic colour if it wasn't for Abdykalyakov's very real skill as a film-maker. He shoots his story mostly in monochrome, punctuated with odd shocks of colour, usually symbolic. This can have a startling, epiphanic effect, such as the hushed, black-and-white open-air audience watching a colour Bollywood musical; or the Paradjanov-miniature in which a brightly-coloured kingfisher hits against a darkly-framed window. Alternating static compositions with long sequence shots, Abdykalyakov achieves some extraordinary effects with light, whether it is a child playing with a mirror, or the otherworldly fade-outs accompanying threshold rituals. The most amazing sequence in the film sees a young boys' fight in a snaking river played out and spent as the sun dazzles the splashing of water; as the combatants lurk off the frame, the camera stays on the river and the increasingly prominent natural sound, in a Renoir-like tableau of quiet dignity.

Rating:
Summary: Glimpse of an unfamiliar culture
Review: This film succeeds because of the simple earthiness of the village where the story takes place. The plot itself is quite familiar, the typical coming of age. The fact that this boy has been adopted and doesn't realize it gives a twist here. One also emphasizes with the father who feels that he must be tougher than he would be even on a natural born son.

There's a natural poetry here. The pace is slow, quite slow, but not tiresome. It's shorter than the typical American feature movie, and so the pace doesn't hurt the movie.

It is in black and white, although with occasional and startling bursts of color. Hey, they don't make pictures like this here in America!

Rating:
Summary: Glimpse of an unfamiliar culture
Review: This film succeeds because of the simple earthiness of the village where the story takes place. The plot itself is quite familiar, the typical coming of age. The fact that this boy has been adopted and doesn't realize it gives a twist here. One also emphasizes with the father who feels that he must be tougher than he would be even on a natural born son.

There's a natural poetry here. The pace is slow, quite slow, but not tiresome. It's shorter than the typical American feature movie, and so the pace doesn't hurt the movie.

It is in black and white, although with occasional and startling bursts of color. Hey, they don't make pictures like this here in America!

Rating:
Summary: unique view of Kyrgyz village life
Review: This is the story of Beshkempir, a young boy growing up in the typical local manner, until his best friend, in a burst of anger, reveals that Beshkempir is adopted.

The plot is weak, but it is surprising not central to the movie. The film progresses with little dialogue, moving viewers through the days and weeks of typical village life. Most of the movie is in black and white, with occasional vibrant bursts of color. The relations between individuals, the land and animals are wonderfully conveyed, as is the typical life and cultural practices of Kyrgyz villagers. The movie is surprisingly frank, portraying issues such as early sexual exploration and spousal abuse with honesty.

Highly recommended for those planning to visit the area or interested in post-Soviet Central Asian culture.