The film festival in Almaty (Septe-mber 17-21), Kazakhstan, is called the Eurasia International Film Festival, and with good reason. Kazakhstan, which became independent nearly 21 years ago, has a heady mix of nationalities from Europe and Asia — 100 according to some, 120 according to others. The word “Eurasia” was coined in the late 19th century by Russian scholars who saw Central Asia as the intersection between East and West. Recent years have witnessed a substantial change in the country’s demographic profile. In the 1960s, when Kazakhstan was a Soviet Republic, “37% of the people were Kazakh and 63% Russian or Slav,” says Gulnara Abikeyeva, artistic director of the festival. “Our Russification was complete. Out of the 120-odd schools in Almaty, 119 gave Russian-language instruction. ‘If you want to be Russian, be Kazakh,” used to be the bitter comment. Today, emigration has reversed these figures: over 60% of the population is Kazakh, and around 23% are Russians.”
Kazakh cinema suffered the consequences of this process. With the large numbers of Russians in the country, cinema was under Russian control. “It followed the Soviet ideology,” says Ms Abikeyeva, “and films were hardly interesting.” That is no longer true. Kazakh cinema, the most productive in Central Asia, has been recognised the world over (some 10 years ago, a Kazakh film, Three Brothers, took the Best Film Award at the Cinefan Festival in New Delhi); but when it comes to the question of language, the pace of change has been slower. Yes, Kazakh-language education has received a policy boost, but as yet only 53% of school children finish their education in Kazakh. “There are two cultures here, two societies, two languages. And in cinema, 90% of filmmakers represent the Russian-language society. Filmmakers live in cities, and have been educated in cities or in Moscow. Cinema is an elite province.”
Cinema seems to have received a push from the highest quarter: “We are in a unique situation,” says Ermek Shinarbayev, award-winning Kazakh director. “Ten years ago, we had no hope, no money. But five years ago, President Nazarbayev decided to finance cinema seriously. Earlier, only films from Moscow or Leningrad were shown in theatres. We were obliged to make a dozen films a year but distribution was nil. Some 10 copies of each Kazakh film would be made and screened for 2-3 days. We were unknown to the Soviet audience and they were not interested either.”
Today, a majority of films are made and distributed with state support. “The President is smart enough to spend oil money on culture,” he says. Even so, Kazakh films account for a mere 7% of releases. Little wonder. The country’s population is just over 17 million.
But cinema is getting sturdier as the Eurasia festival proved. Of particular interest was the Kazakh cinema package and the Central Asian panorama: from spectacular historical epics (Myn Bala: Warriors of the Steppes by Akan Sataev, Kazakhstan’s latest entry for Best Foreign Language film at the Oscars), fairytale fantasy genre with CGI and animation, the first of its kind (The Book of Legends: The Mysterious Forest by Akhat Ibraev), the ancient and the modern (Sword of Victory by Asya Suleeva and Aruar Raibaev) to bitter-sweet stories set in cities — all made in very personal styles. The Netpac award went to veteran director Darejan Omirbaev’s Student, a film that subtly and sensitively transposes the moral dilemma in the mind of the central character, Raskolnikov, in Feodor Dostoevsky’s novel Crime and Punishment, into present-day Kazakhstan.
Films from other Central Asian countries presented a medley of many moods and themes, but most were a picture of sobriety: death and loneliness (The Telegram by Iskandar Usmanov, Tajikistan), a beautifully crafted work with a skilful use of muted colours and a tempo in keeping with the tempo of life in rural areas; a man’s familiar, cosy world of the steppe turned topsy-turvy and made unfamiliar (The Steppe Man, by Shamil Aliyev, Azerbaijan); hopes of young girls shattered by greed or custom (The Empty Home by Nurbek Egen, Kyrgyzstan and Parizod, by Ayub Shakhobiddinov, Uzbek-istan); the inner world of children (Princess Nazik by Erken Saliev, Kyrgyzstan); the delivery of coffins of those killed in war to their homes (Mute House by Yolkin Tuychiev, Uzbekistan) and, among others, Presumed Consent by Tajik director Farkhot Abdullaev, a neatly told tale of an Azerbaijani doctor with a conscience, working in a Moscow suburb, and his encounter with the human and medical indifference in contemporary Russia.
Only 45 films were screened at the festival, held under the patronage of the Kazakh ministry of culture and Information, Kazakhfilm and the Association of Cinemat-ographers of Kazakhstan. But the organisers went full guns blazing for the event. The high-profile international jury (Oscar Award-winners Wolfgang Petersen and Danis Tanovic, and international awardees Amir Karakulov, George Ovashvili and Loy Arcenas) chose not to give the Best Film Award for reasons best known to them. Instead, they conferred two Best Director awards to Future Lasts Forever by Özcan Alper (Turkey) and Elles by Malgorzata Szumowska (a Germany-France-Poland production); Anais Demoustier, one of the main actresses in Elles took the Best Actress award while the Best Actor went to Kazakh-born actor Azamat Nigmanov for his role in the Russian film The Convoy by Alexei Mizgriev, which also won the FIPRESCI Prize. The Indian entry in competition was Damodaran Bijukumar’s Colour of Sky.
For those who may have missed watching awarded films from the Berlin and Pusan film festivals, Eurasia held a wonderful showcase of previous winners, while seminars on Kazakh cinema opened doors to its current state and future prospects.
The grandiose opening and closing ceremonies at the vast Palace of the Republic before an elegantly dressed capacity crowd of 3,000 included a magnificent opera performance and a high-voltage audio-visual presentation of guests, organisers and film clips. The formal dinner was made informal by a varied cultural presentation — traditional music and dance, acrobats and even a fashion show. On the last day, all guests joined the dancing and seemed to melt in one another’s arms!
Flowers in bloom everywhere, even on lamp posts and hand railings, spacious, half-empty streets, serene parks hosting parties by newly-weds, gracious restaurants from all over the world, all of this blessed by clear skies and perfect weather. The mood was jolly. And why not? Shinarbaev said that overall, directors in Kazakhstan are “fed up with problem films, we try to avoid sadness.
It is time for positive thinking, because earlier, all we had was poverty, hardness, drugs and social issues. Life is more interesting today, it’s more human here than in Russia.” Gulnara Abikeyeva agrees. “The New Wave in Kazakh cinema criticised the dark and depressing films of the 80s, even if it was done in the Soviet style.” The post-Soviet era has seen the birth of a new aesthetic, reflects a new lifestyle and “fills in the blank spots in their history.” And Almaty, at the foothills of the virgin, unspoilt Tien Shan mountains, is where you see it all.