Swedish filmmaker Levan Akin (The Circle) got inspiration for this story as early as 2013 when he saw how a Pride train in Georgia was attacked by a homophobic mob, but it wasn't until last fall that he could start his project. In the past 11 months that have passed since then, And then we danced, it has been celebrated at the prestigious Cannes Film Festival, toured around the globe and selected to be Sweden's Academy Award.
In other words, a lot to live up to before the premiere here at home - and Akin's work really delivers; above all, crushes my fears that it would be a straightforward and note-taking drama with straightforward thoughts of exclusion. This story of the young dance student Merab's struggle with everyday life and love is a searing drama, according to Bo Widerberg's old devis Liv at all costs.
It is always exciting to go exploring in new environments. We are not directly overwhelmed by pictures from Georgia, the last thing that happened was the war against the Russian 2008 - the relationship with the big neighbor is commented on in a peripheral conversation, where someone says that Russia is trying to push the border every night.
According to director and scriptwriter Akin, who has roots in Georgia himself, it is a country with a strong cultural and social tradition. For example, all Georgians are already learning traditional dances as children, but only a few are able to continue up into adulthood.
We see a Georgia who holds on to dignity, gender roles and not least that sacred dance - which, according to the film's dictatorial teacher, expresses the nation's soul. We also get to know from him that the men's role is to be stone pillars - "There is no room for weakness in Georgian dance!" - while the women should express submissiveness and shyness.
Reactional so it suggests, thus, so it comes as no surprise that homosexuality is not high in course. The students wail at how one of the worshiped dancers in the national ensemble was revealed as gay, which caused him to be fired, beaten and now sell his body on the street. Whether it is true or a note-walking wandering tale will never be clear, but the message goes with all the desirable clarity.
Merab consequently suppresses his sexuality, pretends to be together with dance partner Mary, but when a new guy emerges in the squad, the carefree Iraqi, he can no longer hold back - he blooms like a dandelion through hard packed asphalt.
Sure, it's all about the old ordinary love again, staple in fiction, but for the first time in a long time, someone actually manages to do this damn nervous and sprawling feeling of justice on canvas. Levan Akin but especially when young Levan Gelbakhiani gets the cloth to vibrate, it shines on Merab, he is like a disco ball on two legs - and you just want to tell him to cushion, soon something is watching, and then it is done .
Without revealing too much, however, it must be said that the end is well balanced, landing perfectly where it should, between hope and despair. And Merab's fate still lives on in his mind long after the curtain has fallen.