By Yun-hua Chen.
After the Chechen Wars, many changes happened. Refugees and guerrilla fighters from Chechnya had a major impact on the Islamic faith of the Kist people in Pankisi. Leila and her daughter, Mariam, represent these two generations before and after the Chechen Wars.”
Adamiani, screened at the international documentary competition of the 62nd Krakow Film Festival, focuses on Georgian Chechens who live in the Pankisi Gorge, a breathtakingly beautiful area of rich meadow pasture that is often obscured by mist, located south of the Georgian-Chechen border. As the area has allegedly been used as a base for Chechen rebels and Islamic militants, the Kists are very often associated with radicalism and stigmatized as “terrorists”. In this impressive debut feature documentary, the Japanese director Hirotoshi Takeoka, despite having come from a geographically and culturally remote place, earned an incredible level of trust from the Kists who need some time to open their heart. His camera accompanied the protagonists in the most empathetic manner possible and unveiled the Kists’ collective war trauma and individual moments of fragility, with no pretense and no frills.
The main protagonist Leila runs a bed and breakfast. She sent her two sons to Europe, in the hope of preventing them from getting involved in wars; notwithstanding all her effort, both her sons eventually died in the war in Syria. Treading a post-traumatic path, she teams up with a group of unfaltering women to fight against stereotypes against the region and promote tourism together. Her cousin Abo, with a soul and body of a fighter, runs a trekking company with his Polish partner Barbara. Muscled and unsmiling, Abo looks like a stereotypical Kist on the surface, but underneath his prudish demeanor and stern facial expression, he is genuinely caring with deep inner strength. He suffers prejudice and discrimination in quietness, and it is Barbara who brings him out of shell and into her world of trust and affection.
This elegantly orchestrated multi-character tale is profoundly humane and serenely non-judgmental. Meandering between each protagonist’s inward and outward journeys, the documentary, divided by chapters, gives them ample space to be who they truly are. In a society where men’s virility is often associated with the drive and ability to combat, women join hands to come to terms with trauma, reconcile with the past, and embrace new possibilities in life. It is a film about the healing from the previous experience in a community that strives to live in the present.
I read that you made TV documentaries in Pankisi Valley back in 2010. What brought you there in the first place?
In 2010, I stayed there for about ten days. I knew that the Pankisi Gorge had become a base for the guerrilla force fighting for independence in the Second Chechen War and was burdened with a negative history of being called “the Valley of Terrorists.” A few Georgian people warned me “not to go near it because terrorists are there,” so I remember being a little nervous when I visited there’ the Russian president who called them terrorists during the Chechen Wars is now slaughtering citizens in Ukraine for what he calls a battle against Neo-Nazis. There, I met a Kist woman named Makvala Margoshvili. She accepted me, an unexpected visitor from Japan, and invited me to stay in the house where she lived with her son’s family. From that day, they showed me around the valley every day. Unlike what I have heard, the valley was surprisingly quiet and had regained its former beauty. Makvala’s granddaughter, who was back in her hometown during her winter holiday, translated the conversation into English and taught me their history. Makvala said, “I want to tell the world that we are not terrorists.” These words were the beginning of everything for me. And I came back to Japan and made a ninety-minute TV documentary on the Pankisi Gorge haven recovered from the Chechen Wars. However, the period of peace for the valley did not last long. When the Syrian Civil War broke out in 2011, many Kist people went to Syria. This film shows the uninterrupted flow of human life rather than telling a tale writ large with words such as “war” or “recovery.”
What inspired you to film the Kist people in Georgia? How did you meet Leila, Abo, and Barbara?
The Pankisi Gorge is a small valley surrounded by the Caucasus Mountains. But it is a place in which religions overlap and has memories of war with implications related to refuge and immigrant’s issues. On top of that, the Kist people protecting their traditional way of life are met with travelers from developed countries with diverse backgrounds. It creates a scenery that resembles a little picture of the world in the midst of magnificent nature. This kind of place is rare in the world, and the allure of the place itself has attracted me. I met Leila for the first time in 2016, as I heard that a mother, who lost two sons in Syria, is running a guesthouse, so I went to see her. Then, Barbara visited Leila as a traveler, and when I learned that Barbara is starting a company with Leila’s cousin, Abo, I began filming in earnest.
The film explored the protagonists’ inner world in depth, including their trauma and conflicts. How long did you stay in the Pankisi Gorge for Adamiani? Was it difficult to gain the trust of the community and persuade Leila, Abo, and Barbara to be onboard?
I stayed there for about 120 days between 2016, when this film project began, and 2019. The Kist people had a strong sense of distrust against media as they had been condemned as terrorists by many journalists during the Chechen Wars and the Syrian Civil War that followed. Furthermore, filming would invade the subjects’ privacy and refer to the topic of the tragic history unavoidably. There was no way that I was able to start filming right away in the tradition-minded Kist culture. During filming, our team always stayed in Leila’s guesthouse and spent a lot of time with her family outside of filming. So, the wall between Leila and I naturally disappeared from an early stage. On the contrary, Abo detested a camera in the beginning of filming and stood behind me staring attentively at what I was doing while I was filming. (He has a unique nickname, “Pankisi’s wolf.”) As a battle-tested warrior, he is respected by young people and is a man who embodies what it is to be a Kist man. It was after Abo met Barbara that he allowed us to film him. The encounter with Barbara drastically changed his perspective on foreigners and people who have different backgrounds from him. Barbara also spent a lot of time and energy for that. There are various opinions among Kist people about a Kist man standing in front of a camera and working with a Christian woman. Abo said to me after filming, “I crossed a bridge that no Kist men would cross.” He made that choice for the future of the Pankisi Gorge and the Kists. He is the person whom I most respect.
Do you speak Georgian? Or was there simultaneous interpretation when you were filming? I noticed a significant crew of interpreters and translators in the credits.
Unfortunately, I cannot speak Georgian yet, so interpreters stepped in during filming. Multiple languages are spoken in this film. The principal subjects of the film speak Georgian, Kist (Chechen language), Polish, and Russian. In addition, Arabian and English are used in some parts, so it required many interpreters and translators. Just by looking at the languages that surround this film, I believe you can tell how the individuals whom the film records live their lives in the midst of such multi-societal layers.
How big was your team when you were in the Pankisi Gorge?
Basically, I travelled there by myself from Japan and filmed in a three-person team with a Georgian interpreter and a driver. There were times that I invited camerapeople from Georgia or Japan when multiple cameras were required. The relationship with the film’s subjects was important, so I minimized the number of people in the team and secured days of shooting.
Your co-producer Jia Zhao is the co-producer of I’m So Sorry, A Marble Travelogue, and Smog Town. How did you start your collaboration?
When I met Jia for the first time at IDFA in 2019, she showed interest in this project as a mother and with her own experience moving to Europe. She and I co-produced this film in 2020 when Covid-19 spread around the world, which made our remote collaboration very difficult. Through some trial and error, the film was completed at last. There was a lot to learn for me from her unique aesthetics and experiences in international collaborations.
As you noted in the beginning of the film, “Adamiani” means a human, descendants of Adam in Georgian. Can you talk a bit about why you chose it as the film title?
The word, adamiani, has a broader meaning than the English word human and is used even in everyday conversation. When you listen carefully to the film, you may realize that the people whose lives the film records are using it on various occasions. Leila said, “war changes a pure adamiani into a beast,” and Abo said, “Barbara saw an adamiani in me.” Each of the individuals the film portrays with their diverse backgrounds has an adamiani ideal that they hope to pursue. And that gradually changes as people meet and part. Choosing this word for the film’s title determined the direction of editing.
What were your thoughts behind dividing the film by chapters (e.g., Guests are a gift of God, Border crossers) like tale telling?
The idea of dividing the film by chapters is closely related to the film’s title, Adamiani. I didn’t want to bring down the curtain on this film for the audience as a story of a distant country. How do people meet, part, and live in this complicated society? I tried to exhibit modern human society that began with one human, Adam, and gained complexity over time. I believe the audience can find many similarities in this film to their own societies.
It was probably not an easy task to reach a balance in a multi-character documentary. As you also edited Adamiani, how was the editing process? Did you have to make some difficult decisions during editing?
The editing process was extremely difficult and took over two years. The most difficult thing to decide was what position I, as a director, should take in telling this story. It would not be good if I were too close or too far from the individuals whose lives the film depicts. The editor and I were often saying that it was “like carving a sculpture with tofu.” Covid-19 caused a suspension in the editing, and time stood still, but that situation gave me a new idea for how to structure the film. In the Pankisi Gorge, there are many mothers like Leila who lost their children in war and fighters like Abo who went to fight in war. One of the protagonists of this film is the land of the Pankisi Gorge itself in which their memories lie. When I realized this, it clearly determined the distance I should take as a storyteller.
Adamiani is not only multi-character, but also multi-generations: Leila and her guesthouse, and her daughter and school camp. They are both engaged in changing the stereotypes of the region and bridging different cultures together. How do you see this element of generations in the film?
Leila has lived through the time when drastic changes came to the Pankisi Gorge. The dissolution of the Soviet Union in 1991, the two Chechen Wars, and the Syrian Civil War in which many young people from the valley died. People in Leila’s generation speak Russian and spent a childhood in a time in which religious and ethnic conflicts did not surface, partly due to the Soviet Union’s religious policy. Religious activities were suppressed by the Soviet Union though, of course. Surprisingly, it turns out that the Kists used to have a custom in which they go to churches and consecrate and donate candles for Easter. However, after the Chechen Wars, many changes happened. Refugees and guerrilla fighters from Chechnya had a major impact on the Islamic faith of the Kist people in Pankisi. Leila and her daughter, Mariam, represent these two generations before and after the Chechen Wars. Mariam’s generation studies English and Arabian, and no young people speaks Russian. Meanwhile, the walls of religion and ethnicity exist as an even bigger barrier than those in Leila’s generation. Walls between people change with the times. Over fifty years ago, Georgian filmmaker Tengiz Abuladze made a wonderful film, The Plea, depicting friendship and tragedy between Kists and Georgians. Walls between people and conflicts will never disappear completely, but we can seek to find better choices.
Can you talk a bit about your dedication to Robinzon Achishvili and Makvala Margoshvili at the end of the film?
Robinzon Achishvili is Leila’s father, and he was worried about Leila’s future more than anyone. Makvala Margoshvili is my benefactor that provided me the catalyst for the making of this film. Both passed away after the filming was finished but before seeing the completion of this film. Having both of their names in my first film was essential. Finally, this year, I was able to visit their graves to tell them about the completion of this film in my prayer.
Did the community in the Pankisi Valley get a chance to see the film? What was their reaction?
I haven’t been able to show this film to people other than those whose lives formed the primary focus of the film. I hope to screen this film in Georgia soon.
How is the trekking company of Barbara and Abo going?
For a period, there was no work for their company because of Covid-19 and effects from the war in Ukraine. But Barbara and Abo resumed their tour in June this year. I am always surprised by their passion and efforts. I am sure that the company is going to develop more in the future. Leila’s guesthouse is also in a full bloom, welcoming guests.
You mentioned that you are filming in the Pankisi Valley right now. What is your next film about?
Various things happened between 2019, when I finished filming, and now. The pandemic covered the world, some of those depicted in the film got married, and war broke out in Ukraine. I am sure I am going to follow and pursue adamiani in my next film again. The reality is always going to surpass the imagination of humans.
Yun-hua Chen is an independent film scholar. Her work has been published in Film International, Journal of Chinese Cinema, and Directory of World Cinema. Her monograph on mosaic space and mosaic auteurs was published by Neofelis Verlag, and her contribution to the edited volume titled A Darker Greece: Film Noir and Greek Cinema is forthcoming from Edinburgh University Press.
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