Eldar Shengelaia’s Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story:

Trick Track Trolling the Soviet System

Author

Nino Dzandzava

Abstract

Eldar Shengelaia’s ცისფერი მთები ანუ დაუჯერებელი ამბავი / Tsisperi Mtebi Anu Daujerebeli Ambavi / Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story is as relevant in the current Georgian political context as it was when released on Georgian screens in 1983. This article examines the political context and critical reception surrounding the film, focusing on the visual, dramaturgical and filmmaking techniques – such as repetition, absurdity, and allegory – employed by the director to convey political commentary. However, an analysis of Shengelaia's earlier films, particularly არაჩვეულებრივი გამოფენა / Arachveulebrivi gamopena / An Unusual Exhibition and შერეკილები / Sherekilebi / The Eccentrics (1974), proves essential, as these works, alongside Blue Mountains, form the triad of his most significant contributions to cinema. A comparative study of these films is also vital for contextualising Iurii Bogomolov's landmark 1978 article, demonstrating key critiques regarding Shengelaia's oeuvre and the broader Georgian cinematic landscape. Bogomolov's essay catalysed dialogues between Georgian and Russian filmmakers, notably at the Iskusstvo kino editorial office in Moscow the same year. Georgian filmmakers perceived the article as criticism from an imperial centre, viewing it as an attack on Georgian cinema. Overall, this analysis prioritises the complex political and colonial environments surrounding Georgian cinema, recognising that any discourse on this subject devoid of historical associations is fundamentally reductive. Contemporary Georgian filmmakers increasingly reflect on Georgian cinema traditions, which, on its end, is complex, comprising both resistance narratives and opportunistic engagements. Young Georgian filmmakers address governing political elites using quotes from Shengelaia's works to advocate for creative autonomy. In the thirty-fourth year following Georgian liberation from Soviet occupation, these filmmakers are demanding what Eldar Shengelaia sought in the early stage of his creative career – freedom.

Keywords

Eldar Shengelaia, Gia Kancheli, Levan Paatashvili, Sesilia Takaishvili, Revaz Cheishvili, Kote Mikaberidze, Mikheil Kobakhidze, Gega Kobakhidze, Tengiz Abuladze,Iurii Bogolmolov, Bidzina Ivanisvili, Thea Tsulukiani, Soviet Union, Georgian GSSR, Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story, The Essentrics, An Unusual Exhibition, Repentance, My Grandmother, perestroika, zastoi, Georgian Dream Party, Bureaucracy, Absurd, Sovexportfilm, Georgian cinema, Georgian literature, national cinema; ელდარ შენგელაია, გია ყანჩელი, ლევან პაატაშვილი, სესილია თაყაიშვილი, რევაზ ჭეიშვილი, კოტე მიქაბერიძე, მიხეილ კობახიძე, გეგა კობახიძე, თენგიზ აბულაძე, იური ბოგომოლოვი, ბიძინა ივანიშვილი, თეა წულუკიანი, საბჭოთა კავშირი, საქართველოს სსრ, ცისფერი მთები ანუ დაუჯერებელი ამბავი, შერეკილები, არაჩვეულებრივი გამოფენა, მონანიება, ჩემი ბებია, პერესტროიკა, ზასტოი, პარტია ქართული ოცნება, ბიუროკრატია, აბსურდი, სოვექსპორტფილმი, ქართული კინო, ქართული ლიტერატურა, ეროვნული კინო.

Historical, Political, and Cultural Background

Since the realease of the film, 42 years have passed, during which Georgia has experienced several significant historical turning points, including the collapse of the Soviet Union, the regaining of independence from Russia’s dominance for the second time, several wars involving Russian direct and indirect participation, a peaceful Rose Revolution in 2003 and accumulation more than a decade lasting political power in the hands of Russia backed-up oligarch Bidzina Ivanisvili. Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story, still fits contemporary Georgian reality despite these changes.

The absurd circumstances depicted in the film are not, however, merely a historical account belonging to the past. Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story continues to resonate with a significant portion of the audience in Georgia. This tragicomedy, which raises political and philosophical questions, is still one of the most quoted and recognised Georgian films among the middle and older generations. The Soviet legacy and mentality showcased in it are still prevalent in society. This legacy can be observed in the politics of the Georgian government, particularly in light of the current wave of political protests in the country.

Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story is a satirical comedy that explores the daily life of a literary editorial office. The main character, Soso, played by Ramaz Giorgobiani, is a young writer attempting to publish his new manuscript. He brings printed copies of his piece to the publishing house. Following established procedures, the manuscript must go through the evaluation by editors and then be approved for publication during a group discussion. Soso experiences a significant transformation throughout the film. Initially, he is filled with joy after completing his novel and is favourably disposed toward the institution's staff. However, as time passes, he becomes increasingly disillusioned, impulsive, impatient, and ultimately feels deceived.

The story develops within the literary institution, which serves as a prototype of Soviet creative organisations and, on a deeper level, as a generalised model of the Soviet Union. From the very first minutes, it becomes evident that the work environment is entirely devoid of professional activity. In other words, the staff members are idle, constantly fiddling around, and engaging in meaningless tasks. Despite their constant busyness, no assignments are completed, even if mandatory. Eldar Shengelaia depicts an institutional microcosm filled with bureaucracy and indifference. The pursuit of pointless activities, endless hollow arguments, futile actions, and irrelevant situations illustrates an absurd state of affairs. Nothing functions appropriately in this institution, which is wrapped in collective irresponsibility. The only thing organised here is disorganisation. On one hand, we see a rigid, all-encompassing system that draws its members into a shared chain of indifference. On the other hand, it becomes clear that the individuals within the system also share some degree of responsibility for the dysfunction. By choosing to be obedient and taking the easier path of going along with the flow of events, employees contribute to the system and fail to challenge this disturbing pattern of absurdity.

Instead of providing straightforward answers, the film invites viewers to reflect and ask questions regarding the functioning of regimes and ideological systems, individual and collective guilt, the distribution of responsibilities, and the role of individuals in systemic corruption.

Eldar Shengelaia used the comedy genre to address complex topics, perhaps because he may not have been able to tackle sensitive issues under censorship any other way. His characteristic humour reveals a terrifying yet ordinary and even comedic environment. Shengelaia does not judge his characters; he employs the grotesque while avoiding caricatures and refraining from speaking from a high moral pedestal. This non-judgmental stance allows him to capture the viewer's heart as he mirrors a condition he is part of (Gvakharia 1986: 144—145). Through humour, Shengelaia minimises the irritation and anger that might arise in viewers; instead, he encourages them to laugh at the characters and, perhaps unknowingly, at themselves. The circumstances in the film resonated so profoundly with the Soviet Union's reality that viewers drew parallels between the characters and their own lives, recognising familiar traits in both.

The main principles of the film's dramaturgical structure are seasonality and repeatability. The story unfolds across four seasons, playing out almost identically in each. Each season begins with a similar scene, and the actors repeat the same scene multiple times, often using identical dialogues but with varying emotional intensity. Through this technique of repetition, the filmmakers emphasise the monotony of the characters' lives and the uniformity of the events occurring around them. Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story reflects an allegorical representation of Soviet reality during the period of stagnation known as the zastoi. Additionally, repetition allows the director to shape absurd situations more effectively.

The series of humorous and paradoxical stories develops through contrasting subjects. The characters struggle to understand one another, communicating with meaningless remarks. As a result, language loses its ability to convey meaning, leading to a certain denial of effective communication. Words become misaligned; their arrangement fails to express a single, coherent thought, instead presenting conflicting ideas. For example, one character asks the secretary of a publishing house whether the director accepts fables. The secretary replies, “No, but he will not refuse you”, leaving it unclear what she means by “will not accept, but will not refuse”.

Another instance occurs when the director receives a phone call informing him that they must deliver an utterly useless product for publishing activities: grape fertiliser. The director responds, “We do not need the fertiliser, but bring it over”. In another example, Deputy Director Otari comments on Soso's literary work: “I could not read it. However, I like it and support it”. Here, language serves as a vehicle for absurd comedy within the film, illustrating how opposites converge. As a result, we encounter verbal and visual oxymorons. This oxymoron, which is built upon the repetition of actions, reaches its climax at the conclusion. The dramaturgical structure of the oeuvre resembles a traditional Tbilisi urban spiral staircase that ends in various directions but is fundamentally circular, whether ascending or descending. This spiral development of contradictory content enhances the element of absurdity and amplifies the film's comedic effect.

Eldar Shengelaia and screenwriter Revaz Gabriadze explored the concept of circular and spiral trajectories in their earlier work, The Eccentrics (1974). Its characters attempt to escape from prison by digging a tunnel. However, their calculations are flawed, resulting in a path that ultimately loops back to the dungeon. This narrative effectively serves as a metaphor for the physical and psychological barriers to breaking free from circular/cyclical/seasonal constraints. Thus, the metaphor of breaking from the circle here manifests the physicality of the condition.¹

Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story is not the first film from Georgia to satirise Soviet bureaucracy and protectionism. Perhaps the most famous early example of these themes is Kote Mikaberidze's ჩემი ბებია / Chemi Bebia / My Grandmother – a silent movie shot in 1929 and immediately banned from release. The main character of Mikaberidze's sharp satire is a man searching for a job in a Soviet institution. Much like Soso in Shengelaia’s work, he wanders through the establishment's corridors, moving from office to office and knocking on doors in his quest for employment. Both films highlight the need for an influential patron or protector to achieve professional advancement within the system or to resolve any other issues related to everyday life. They also criticise a system mired in bureaucracy and incapable of functioning properly.

This raises an important question: how did Shengelaia and Mikaberidze manage to create critical films under an authoritarian regime? Mikaberidze made My Grandmother before the official endorsement of Soviet Realism at a time when censorship had not yet entirely restricted artistic freedom. Although the social, economic, cultural, and political contexts of the 1920s and 1980s differ significantly, relatively liberal cultural policies characterise both periods – the dawn of the Soviet Union and the last decade, known as the perestroika era. In these historical periods, unlike other, more oppressive times, filmmakers faced relatively fewer severe consequences for their critical reflections, although creative careers could still be adversely affected.²

Reception

Despite its anti-Soviet themes, Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story was initially released in Georgia in 1983 before being shown throughout the Soviet Union in 1984 and later at international festivals and cinemas.

The film somehow predicted the collapse of the Soviet Union. Not only Soviet censors but also General Secretary Mikhail Gorbachev recognised its political core. Eldar Shengelaia noted that Gorbachev watched several Georgian films, including his, in 1985 at the government summer residence in Georgia in Bichvinta. Eduard Shevardnadze, the First Secretary of the Communist Party of Georgia, also attended the screening. According to the film's translator's account, Gorbachev laughed a few times while watching the film and remarked to Shevardnadze: “Eduard, if we do not do something, the same thing will happen to us as to this institution. The country will collapse on us” (Basiladze 2010: 46–47).

The Soviet censors' acceptance of Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story may have been a form of subterfuge, an attempt to create the illusion of democracy while providing an explanation for the existence of works seemingly critical of the Soviet Union. Jean Roy, a writer for the French newspaper Humanité, reinforced this notion, suggesting that those who doubted that it was possible to critically assess life in the Soviet Union should immediately watch Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story (Gruzinform 1987: 4).

In Georgia, critics faced challenges openly discussing the film's political context. While a director could communicate through artistic and metaphorical means, a critic lacked the same allegorical tools available to poets. Perhaps for this reason, Natia Amirejibi's 1984 review does not delve into the film's political allegories; instead, she emphasises its philosophical themes, such as alienation, indifference, and spiritual disintegration. She criticises the film for lacking “artistic sharpness”, suggesting it fails to adequately depict the “spiritual deformation that indifference leads to” (Amirejibi 1984: 10–11).

The Georgian journal Kino also highlighted the philosophical themes of alienation, emptiness, aimlessness, apathy, lack of human compassion, and false activity. Its writer, Amiran Gomarteli described Shengelaia’s film as an acute observation of the alienated lifestyle of people, focusing on the destruction of human relationships and harmony (Gomarteli 1985: 34). He argued that the film's themes are global and universal, capable of resonating with audiences from all nations, adding: “During a time of widespread alienation, it teaches compassion, tolerance, and kindness, urging viewers to treat one another with care”. With this statement, Gomarteli distances himself even more from the Soviet context and politics.

Students from the Faculty of Journalism at the University of Marxism-Leninism of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Georgia were bolder in their assessment, claiming in a collective newspaper article, “Here is such a familiar, and at the same time, extraordinary environment […], you would think that the eye of a hidden film lens is turning around us with documentary accuracy, reflecting our everyday life. […] The work will make us think about many things, open our eyes, and show what often happens among us” (Collective Correspondent 1984: 3). The article's authors stressed that the film's message extends beyond a singular case and reflects a systematic issue, viewing it as a commentary on the broader situation in Soviet Georgia. It is evident that if the students perceived the film as both a documentary and a grotesque reflection of reality, the director's critical stance would not go unnoticed by the censors. However, the already weakened Soviet system accepted Shengelaia's harsh critique. The students' endorsement serves as a testament to this acceptance. They justified Eldar Shengelaia's approach by saying, “True patriot's support. The author is our true brother, comrade, and friend […] He has the right to be direct. […] A talented creative team made a revealing film, the creation of which was undoubtedly conditioned by an uncompromising fight against negative events” (ibid.).

Journalist Nana Tutberidze also commented on the film's critique of bureaucracy and indifference, noting, “Today, no one needs a film that offers the viewer a ready-made recipe — how to live, how to work. The viewers judge for themselves […]” (Tutberidze 1985: 4). Her remark suggests that Eldar Shengelaia had indeed challenged the long-standing dogma of Soviet cinema before perestroika, which aimed to educate viewers by providing specific guidelines for life. Thus, while the press endorsed the film, it often justified the approval by stating that it exposed societal vices obstructing the country's progress.

In 1984, Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story was showcased at the 17th All-Union Film Festival in Kyiv, where it won the main prize and a diploma. The following year, it received the State Prize of the Soviet Union. The laureates of this award included the scriptwriter, director, cameraman, artist, and four actors (ibid.). In 1985, the film was screened in an out-of-competition section at the 15th Moscow International Film Festival (Machavariani 1985: 4). That same year, it also participated in the Directors’ Fortnight programme at the Cannes International Film Festival, marking it as the only film from the Soviet Union featured there (Kereselidze 2019: 71.). According to Shengelaia, Goskino prevented the film from being screened in the main competition (Ibid). At that time, Tengiz Abuladze's მონანიება / Monanieba / Repentance (1984) had already been filmed, although it was not presented at Cannes until 1987, where it won the Grand Prix and the FIPRESCI Prize. Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story won Polish hearts as Poland recognised it as the best foreign film screened in the country in 1985 and was awarded the “Golden Film” prize (Anonymous 1986: 4).

The film was also featured at the Soviet Republics Film Festival in the USA, at the 36th Berlinale’s Panorama section and at Singapore's First International Film Festival. It was also released in France. As Oleg Rudnev, the chair of Sovexportfilm, noted: “Soviet films are struggling to make their way to the big world screens. Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story enjoys a fortunate fate in this regard. This is the first time in many years that there has been such mass interest in the West towards a Soviet film. For instance, in Paris, our films are usually shown only at the Cosmos cinema³. However, Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story achieved mass distribution, and there were huge ticket queues” (Gruzinform 1987: 4).

Rudnev's assessment offers a rather one-sided view of events and may contain factual inaccuracies. Notably, when this evaluation was published in the Georgian press, the distribution company Cosmos had already dissolved. The primary reason for its dissolution was that by 1986, Sovexportfilm had lost its monopoly on distributing Soviet films abroad. Consequently, Soviet films became accessible in various venues outside of the Paris cinema, Cosmos.

Although the newspaper article cited above does not provide statistics regarding the distribution of Blue Mountains, it is worth considering the impact of other films, such as Sergo Parajanov's სურამის ციხე / Suramis tsikhe / The Legend of Surami Fortress (Samier 2012: 86). Therefore, it is questionable whether it is accurate to claim that the audience's interest in Blue Mountains marked the first major engagement with a Soviet film in years.

Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story’s recognition and that of its director culminated in 1988 when Eldar Shengelaia was awarded the honorary title of People's Artist of the USSR (Suladze 1988: 1).

The work, which is anti-Soviet in nature, would not have had this level of success were it not for the perestroika era. In 1988, as the collapse of the Soviet Union approached, Shengelaia reflected in an interview:

I have to be honest — when we made the film, we could not have imagined that it would win the USSR State Prize. I remember a phrase from one of the Goskino executives when he read the script of Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story: 'If you have such outrages in Georgia, then feel free to film it.' Nevertheless, the script was not only about our republic, but the official did not understand that. This happened in 1981, long before significant changes happened in our lives. [...] What does perestroika mean in art to me? It signifies a struggle for truth. This struggle has always existed in Georgian cinema. I, along with many of our other directors, have tried to do my part” (Gamsakhurdia 1988: 3).

In another interview, Shengelaia emphasised this idea: "Georgian cinema has been striving for transformation for a long time. Georgian filmmakers have been prepared for it for quite some time. While some may assume that Repentance is a product of today, what about the films of Otar Ioseliani, which have been around long before?" (Suladze 1988: 1).

Loving, Flying and Breaking Free

The theme of stepping out and breaking through is a central focus in Eldar Shengelaia's films. In some pieces, such as The Essentrics, his characters succeed in breaking free, while in others they do not. Critic Gogi Gvakharia remarked, “the metaphor of prison constantly appears in Eldar Shengelaia's work” (Gvakharia 1986: 140). Commenting on a film in a metaphoric way, Gvakharia notes that within each of us lives a knight who, like the author of Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story, has the potential to overcome the limitations that prevent us from opening our borders and connecting with a stranger who is so close to us — a person next door. “Man was born to soar, not to exist in a closed, hermetically sealed abode” (Gvakharia 1986: 156).

In The Eccentrics, imprisonment takes on a significant physical dimension that profoundly impacts the characters. The narrative centres around physicist Kristephore and village boy Ertaoz, both confined in an underground dungeon by state authorities. Their reasons for incarceration vary; Kristephore is serving a sentence for assaulting a general and members of the jury, while Ertaoz faces punishment for executing a task mandated by his beloved. Both characters' detentions originate from reckless acts driven by love, suggesting a broader critique: the prevailing political order actively suppresses love and the accompanying sensations of freedom, vitality, and communion, demonstrating that both characters serve a sentence as a consequence of love.

In general, the way to escape prison and the grip of unjust ‘justice’ is through constructing and employing a flying machine. Several factors facilitate the feasibility of this ambition: knowledge, scientific reasoning, faith — illustrated in the dialogue where Kristephore asks Ertaoz, "Do you believe that I will fly?" — and the willingness to take action, individual responsibility, and initiative. For Kristephore, action is an essential element of the concept of love. "Love is the source of dreams. Dreams awaken the slumbering minds of humanity. Mind inspires action!” Kristephore articulates a sense of urgency: "I have no idea when God will want me to fly; I cannot wait! I must elevate myself into the sky." As discussed above, the themes of initiative and responsibility are central to Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story. Yet Eldar Shengelaia highlights a notable deficiency in the embodiment of these themes during the 1980s, suggesting a dissonance between aspiration and action in that era.

Obstacles propel the characters toward their goals. In prison, where nothing changes, changes happen to the characters: Ertaoz studies physics and mathematics, while Kristephore successfully formulates the necessary equations for flight. Thus, incarceration becomes an opportunity for them to productively and thoughtfully use their time in preparation for pursuing their dreams and gaining freedom.

The attempt to break through boundaries by flying transcends the cinematic realm. During the late stages of Soviet occupation of Georgia, from 1966 to 1991, there were nine documented hijacking attempts by civilians.⁵ These actions embodied both protest and a desperate quest for escape from the oppressive regime (Topuria 2020). For these individuals, such actions represented both a form of protest and a means of escaping the Soviet Union.⁶

The most infamous plane hijacking in Georgia occurred in 1983 and resulted in the deaths of seven individuals, including both hijackers and crew members. Some of the hijackers received the maximum penalty of execution by a Soviet court. Among those executed was actor Gega Kobakhidze, the son of film director Mikheil Kobakhidze. At the time of the hijacking, Gega was playing the role of Tornike Aravidze, the son of a Soviet official, in Tengiz Abuladze's film Repentance. The film's production was still in progress when Kobakhidze and his friends hijacked an Aeroflot passenger aircraft en route from Tbilisi, Georgia's capital, to Batumi. Following the incident, the scenes featuring Kobakhidze were cut from the film, necessitating the reshooting. Ultimately, the character of Tornike Aravidze was reinterpreted by professional actor Merab Ninidze in the final production (Dzandzava, Bakradze 2018: 112).

The Soviet press largely suppressed news items on these hijackings, as the government sought to curb any dissemination of information that could reveal its failures or loss of control. The state intended for citizens to remain unaware of the hijacking attempts, aiming to stifle curiosity that might lead to further disobedience or rebellion.

Interestingly, the Soviet nomenklatura did not view Eldar Shengelaia’s film plot — which depicts the construction of a flying machine as a means of escape — as problematic. The narrative's ambiguity regarding where the outlaws intended to go and whether they sought to leave the country adds to this thought. Many details in the film remain intentionally vague and lack realistic definitions. The story is shrouded in a kind of mythical ambiguity that inflicts a complex interpretation of actions, gestures, or characters. Allegory serves as the aesthetic language of the work. It provides the director with a way to soften political rigour in the eyes of the Soviet censor, allowing more freedom in the creative process.

In Shengelaia's 1968 film An Unusual Exhibition, often regarded as one of his seminal works alongside The Eccentrics and Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story, the concept of imprisonment or the act of capturing and subjugating has a metaphorical aspect. The protagonist, sculptor Aguli Eristavi, epitomises entrapment within his mundane existence, unable or unwilling to escape the confines of his routine. Rather than pursuing innovative artistic endeavours or expanding his creative horizons, Eristavi dedicates himself to banal commissions for tombstones, aiding the deceased in their passage to the afterlife.

Eristavi's artistic trajectory is strictly confined to the provincial landscape of Kutaisi, where his work is predominantly centred around the local cemetery. Despite possessing a substantial block of precious marble, his ambition to create a true masterpiece dwindles as dull opportunities elude him. This narrative mirrors that of a mythical archetype, presenting a seemingly simplistic tale that paradoxically invites profound observations. Aguli seems to be able to make his own choices and, at the same time, is doomed by fate. Instead of aspiring to real art, he compromises his artistic integrity to secure financial stability for his family.

Set against the backdrop of a communist regime, Shengelaia deftly invokes a Marxist interpretation, suggesting that Eristavi's socio-economic reality shapes his consciousness. The questions arise: is Aguli Eristavi a fundamentally untalented artist, or is he ensnared in a relentless creative crisis? The film engages with this dilemma, offering fertile ground for discussion across philosophical, socio-political, and artistic dimensions—topics worthy of extensive exploration in their own right.

By invoking the character of Eristavi, the narrative illustrates a broader theme of entrapment, with social, philosophical, psychological, and political constraints constructing his prison. Unlike the eccentrics portrayed in Shengelaia's other works, Eristavi appears unable to transcend these barriers. Yet, the ambiguity characteristic of Shengelaia permeates the film's conclusion: the weight of his unfulfilled aspirations is juxtaposed with a glimmer of hope. This nuance is encapsulated in the moment when Eristavi bequeaths the block of marble to a young student, suggesting potential for artistic creation beyond his own possibilities.

In the films examined, Shengelaia juxtaposes the concepts of spirality and circularity. The geometric circle represents a closed system, whereas the spiral form allows an opening, an exit, and embodies infinite movement. Kristephore's observations in The Eccentrics portray love as an aspiration toward elevated realms: "Love is vertical and, moreover, rotating!" This upward trajectory suggests that through love, a person can transcend the spiral depicted by Kristephore on the prison walls, which is laden with mathematical constructs. For Shengelaia, the metaphor of cutting through the sky with a sky machine serves as a materialistic embodiment of the idea of ​​love. Paradoxically, in The Eccentrics, produced during the ‘Stagnation’ period, Shengelaia exhibits a more optimistic outlook.

Through Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story, Shengelaia suggests the impossibility of breaking out of the circle (i.e., the inconceivability of escaping a circumscribed existence) and also comments on immobility. This suggestion connects to a figurative expression in Georgian (წრეზე სიარული), which literally translates as "walking on a circle", signifying a person repeating the same actions. Although circular movement suggests a semblance of dynamism, the inability to break free from this cycle ultimately renders it meaningless, as it lacks both a climax and a definitive result. From a political or historical perspective, the film about the repetition of unproductive movement, Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story, can be read as a cinematic illustration of the Soviet Union’s political condition of the era. The film's production coincided with the ‘Stagnation’ period, although reaching a broader audience, including international viewers, later, during the subsequent perestroika. Nevertheless the work is a product of the ‘Stagnation’ era.

"Everything has an end" — A Russian Misunderstanding

In a 1978 article published in Iskusstvo kino, the Soviet Russian film critic Iurii Bogomolov offered a scathing critique of Eldar Shengelaia and his contemporaries among Georgian filmmakers, arguing that their works frequently positioned characters at the intersection of reality and poetic abstraction. The article, supported by the editor-in-chief of the journal Iskusstvo kino, which could have had unpleasant consequences for the local film industry, including tightening censorship pressures on local productions. The unprecedented protests in Tbilisi in 1978 against the attempt to revoke the state status of the Georgian language most likely also influenced the timing of the discussion between cineastes.

Bogomolov's foremost criticism centres on the neglect of modern reality in the narrative and character development of Georgian films (Bogomolov 1978: 40). He interprets the filmmakers' intent to articulate their personal worldviews through their characters as a significant factor in this trend, further asserting that these portrayals often replace authentic reality with a self-ascribed version that asserts its own legitimacy (Bogomolov 1978: 42). According to Bogomolov, this egocentrism manifests in the films' tendency to showcase the virtuosity of their auteurs, leading to what he describes as an "enthusiastic flaunting" of talent (Bogomolov 1978: 40–41). He elaborates, stating, "With the crisis of the theme, which we have defined by the notion of 'artistic egocentrism', the crisis of the artistic form, which faithfully served the 'narcissistic' inclinations of the lyrical hero, is also revealed. The mirror of form helps the Romantic poet overlook reality while being seduced about his position and purpose in this world" (Bogomolov 1978: 50).

Bogomolov adopts a subtly veiled approach reminiscent of the same mechanisms employed by Shengelaia and his colleagues in their films. However, unlike the filmmakers, who employ a diverse arsenal of cinema’s aesthetic techniques, Bogomolov operates within a more constrained analytical framework. His analysis fails to engage with the political dimensions implicit in the Georgian cinema of the 1960s and 1970s, thereby rendering his assessments of aesthetic, formal, or thematic tendencies somewhat superficial. Yet, it is evident that beneath Bogomolov's camouflaged critique lies a hidden commentary on the political implications of these cinematic works.

The internal struggles and confrontations of Shengelaia's film characters with reality epitomise acts of rebellion—either effective or futile—expressing a desire to transcend, redefine, or broaden their confines. The inability to address political subjects candidly under the Soviet regime compelled Georgian filmmakers to devise new aesthetic and thematic modes of encoding their messages. Bogomolov mischaracterises these methods – rich in symbolism, metaphor, and poeticism – as indicative of a crisis in Georgian cinema that supposedly reflects disregard for reality and an inclination toward egocentrism.

In engaging with characters in films like The Eccentrics, Bogomolov equates the character’s perspective with the director’s, arguing that the character is a personification of the film's author. Sometimes this leads to interpretive confusion; for example, Bogomolov posits that "the mood, feeling of a poet-romantic oscillates between the desire to create his own special world, to seclude himself in it, to defend his exclusivity and the inclination to conquer the object, to 'occupy' the whole world, to spread his demiurgic power over everyone and everything." He adds that when "isolationist" tendencies in artistic mood prevail, the resulting imagery is often "internally closed, with clearly delineated genre boundaries, with mask-like characters, with an emphasised isolated plastic domain […]" (Bogomolov 1978: 45).

His characterisation of the poet-romantic serves as a dual-lens through which both character and director are evaluated, ultimately resulting in an interpretation of Georgian cinema laden with imperialist bias towards supposedly peripheral cultures perceived as drifting towards "isolation." This "isolation" may, in fact, be emblematic of a distinctive identity or assertion of individuality that diverges from Soviet or Russian paradigms. Consequently, the critique of "isolationism" can be interpreted as a condemnation of uniqueness and an insistence on a restrictive adherence to Soviet cinematic norms, avoiding the creation of additional cultural boundaries beyond those prescribed by Soviet internationalism.

Within the context of the Soviet totalitarian landscape, Bogomolov's allegations of Georgian filmmakers' aspirations toward "occupying the world" verge on the absurd – reflecting a profound misunderstanding of the socio-political realities governing artistic expression during that period. While Bogomolove occasionally employs questionable terminology to encapsulate the nature of these creative endeavours (such as occupation, expansion, and isolation), the complexities and subtexts embedded in Georgian cinema permit acknowledgement of its national quest for independence and freedom.

In contemporary discourse, free from ideologically driven Soviet interpretations, many of Bogomolov's critical points appear less sustainable. Moreover, sustainability is further challenged as some of the film critic's assessments question the foundational principles of dramaturgy or filmmaking. For instance, he describes Shota Managadze's film წუთისოფელი / Tsutisopeli / Life by stating that "reality, that is, historical existence, is felt as a decoration, completely natural, but necessary only to reveal the hero" (Bogomolov 1978: 47). In his analysis of Rezo Chkheidze's ჯარისკაცის მამა / Jariskatsis mama / Father of a Soldier, which addresses World War II, he observes: "[…] The impression is that it is not the hero who serves as a means and a reason for the unfolding of reality, but just the opposite: everyday situations and historical collisions have provided the occasion and grounds to reveal, unfold, and demonstrate the best qualities of the protagonist…" (Bogomolov 1978: 47).

In these instances, Bogomolov effectively undermines the canonical frameworks of character construction within dramaturgy. Utilising everyday situations and historical contexts to develop characters is, indeed, a principle of the classical dramaturgical approach. Critiquing the reliance on established techniques as a fault of the screenwriters may be fitting for avant-garde or experimental film discussions; however, applying this critique within the Soviet mainstream raises questions about the seriousness, precision, and, crucially, the intentions behind Bogomolov's evaluations.

Further complicating his position are several paragraphs appended to Bogomolov's letter, suggesting that the argument presented is one of support for Georgian cinema. However, this fandom does not prevent the author from being not only critical but also tutoring, culminating in the assertion: "There is an end to everything" (Bogomolov 1978: 55). Notably, the article concludes with allegations that Georgian cinema is fixated solely on aesthetic objectives, often exemplified by Eldar Shengelaia's work: "Aesthetic hermeticism, seclusion on the internal problems of art itself have resulted in the fact that Georgian cinema began "to lose its audience gradually” (Bogomolov 1978: 56). Consequently, the overarching tone of the article echoes the rhetoric found in early socialist realist texts, which defined cultural policy while denouncing formalist deviations.

On Embracing Shengelaia While Confronting the Soviet Legacy

The thematic undercurrents permeating Eldar Shengelaya's films—deviating from Soviet dogma, striving for liberation from constraints, and a critical perception of the monotony of daily existence—serve as essential motifs in his oeuvre.

In The Unusual Exhibition, Shengelaya crafts the narrative of Aguli Eristavi, a sculptor emblematic of creative failure and lost potential, soaked in quotidian existence. Eristavi is unable to transcend mediocrity and fulfill the role traditionally expected of Soviet artists, including the glorification of the state through monumental sculpture. His character swings back and forth between apparent joy and deep self-doubt, finally manifesting a melancholic generosity when he bequeaths his unused piece of Poros marble to a student. This act symbolises not only a giving up of personal accountability but also a transmission of unfulfilled dreams to the subsequent generation.

Conversely, the protagonists in The Eccentrics actively challenge their predestined paths, subverting societal control to pursue their ambitions. The character of Soso in Blue Mountains, or An Unbelievable Story, notably critiques his surroundings. Yet, his interaction with this environment evolves and gets more complex, particularly towards the film's conclusion. Initially vexed, Soso ultimately finds himself integrating into the very fabric he once resisted. Shengelaia exemplifies this dynamic in two scenes: 1. when an emergent writer seeks Soso's critique, which he, mirroring his colleagues, dismissively forwards without consideration; 2. without objection, Soso performs a task assigned to him by the director and unrelated to his professional activities – he observes the functioning of the underground tunnel running under the editorial office building. This behaviour articulates a broader commentary on systemic interchangeability within professional roles – a tunnelling engineer adopts the functions of a creative writer, while Soso embodies a bureaucratic observer of subterranean operations. This thematic motif reflects the troubling reality of individuals as replaceable components within a rigidly structured system, where everyone can do anything and from which there appears to be no escape.

Despite the temporal gap separating Shengelaya's discussed works from contemporary reality, the films remain relevant to Georgian culture and society. Their popularity cannot solely be attributed to the genre; the director's comedic approach and non-didactic tone facilitate the communication of complex themes to audiences. However, the viewers also precisely recognise the films' bittersweet humour and reflective narrative through which they confront both historical and personal realities. The stories of Aguli Eristavi, Kristephore, and Soso operate as a mirror, revealing the cyclical nature of modern Georgian life and the persistent echoes of its history.

As an independent nation for nearly three decades, Georgia continues to wrestle with its Soviet legacy while striving to establish a democracy. Much like the characters in Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story, who are trapped in repetitive cycles, Georgia finds itself "walking in circles". This metaphor extends to the contemporary Georgian film landscape, which faces an unprecedented crisis since the collapse of the Soviet Union. This crisis is unprecedented as it is characterised not only by enduring economic challenges but also by a decline in cultural policy frameworks.

Recently, Georgian filmmakers have encountered renewed ideological constraints, now imposed by the Georgian National Film Centre. This institution, once perceived as a facilitator for national cinema, has devolved into a repressive mechanism for creative expression and critical thinking. It has established itself as a new post-Soviet censorship committee designed to tame filmmakers. Since becoming the Minister of Culture in 2021, Thea Tsulukiani's administration has enacted a series of repressive measures, including restructuring personnel at al Film Center and removing the previous leadership in favour of individuals aligned with the ruling Georgian Dream party.⁷ Simultaneously, critical film discourse has been suppressed by discontinuing the journal Kino and by manipulating film distribution, reflecting a stringent authoritarian cultural policy reminiscent of past censors.

In tandem with a personnel purge and party recruitment efforts, Minister Tsulukiani, noted for her homophobic and misogynistic statements, has aggressively attacked Georgian filmmakers. In 2023, she asserted that the Film Centre would only engage with filmmakers focused on "cinema, not politics." Her perspective suggests that documentaries funded by the Film Centre must adhere strictly to a pre-established script, disallowing any deviations. This position, so reminiscent of Stalinist cinematic policies, fundamentally undermines the principles of auteur documentary filmmaking, which rely on the organic development of narrative and character, allowing for the natural evolution of thematic exploration and the incorporation of spontaneity. Additionally, Tsulukiani emphasised that the Film Centre should sponsor films that evoke patriotism among youth.

Pursuing such anti-democratic and authoritarian tendencies, the National Film Center and Tsulukiani would likely endorse the critiques articulated by Iurii Bogomolov, as described above, namely this one: "The highest points in the development of Georgian cinema and its rise have always been the rise of the entire multinational Soviet cinema. The best periods in the history of Georgian cinema were those when it was oriented towards the broad masses of viewers, appealing to a Soviet audience of many millions without losing its national face and retaining a root connection with its vivid national culture, which is bloodily connected to folk tradition." (Bogomolov 1978: 56).

Tight control over film production not only curtails directorial freedom and the creative process but also affects the entire film industry ecosystem. Over 450 filmmakers have vocally opposed the emergent anti-liberal policies, leading to a significant boycott of the Film Centre, with many refusing to partake in competitions and production initiatives. This resistance is periodically voiced through street demonstrations. During a July 2023 protest outside the Ministry of Culture, participants displayed banners referencing cinematic works; one banner echoed Rainer Werner Fassbinder's Fear Eats the Soul, while others quoted poignant lines from Shengelaia's films. Notably, a banner inscribed with "The calico has split" evoked a memorable moment from the film Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story. The citation refers to an episode where the staff waits for a meeting in the director's office and discovers that the material under the ceiling has cracked; hence, the building is no longer safe. The danger of destruction the film's characters experience for the first time in this episode soon comes true as the building collapses in the finale, and its physical collapse mirrors the characters' existential crises. Another critical protest banner borrowed dialogue from The Eccentrics, asserting, "We cannot fly away like this," highlighting the sense of stagnation and entrapment within the current film policy framework of the Film Centre and Ministry of Culture.

Young filmmakers' acknowledgement of Eldar Shengelaia's works during the protests underscores the lasting impact of his films on contemporary discourse and the ongoing relevance of his previous struggles against systemic constraints. Current protestations prove that Georgian cinema must resist confinement to hermetic existence, especially in light of the escalating censorship it confronts in its 117th year. Whether rallying in public spaces or facing imprisonment, young filmmakers are fighting the realities threatening their artistic expression, and while doing so, they draw inspiration from the history of Georgian cinema and, in particular, Shengelaia's legacy, whose film The Eccentrics remind them: "Love is the source of dreams. Dreams awaken the slumbering minds of humanity. Mind inspires action. […] To the infinity of passion […]!"

Nino Dzandzava
University of Potsdam
nino.dzandzava.1@uni-potsdam.de

Bio

Nino Dzandzava is a researcher specialising in film and early photography as well as an artist. Her scholarly interests focus on the history of Georgian cinema and photography, as well as Georgia's colonial visual cultural legacy. After acquiring both theoretical and practical knowledge in film conservation at the L. Jeffrey Selznick School of Film Preservation in Rochester, New York, she has centred her research on primary source materials, including paper collections, film, video, printed media, and photographs. Nino has undertaken several film preservation and publication projects and is the author and editor of several books. She is currently pursuing a doctoral degree at the University of Potsdam, with a thesis focusing on the legacy of Mikheil Chiaureli. Her mixed-media works are rooted in research and often combine personal experiences with cultural and political contexts and issues of memory politics.

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Suggested Citation

Dzandzava, Nino. 2025. “Eldar Shengelaia’s Blue Mountains, or Unbelievable Story: Trick Track Trolling the Soviet System”. Apparatus. Film, Media and Digital Cultures in Central and Eastern Europe 20. DOI: https://dx.doi.org/10.17892/app.2025.00020.387.

URL: http://www.apparatusjournal.net/

Copyright: The text of this article has been published under https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/

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