Violence as a virus in post-Communist Georgia, though who'd know. Eka and Natia must navigate their adolescence, with its usual turmoils and tribulations, in a society that has already abandoned them. Their generation lives an existence already disconnected - from their elders, from their responsibilities, even from each other; Eka's disconnect is double, as she is confronted with the burden of acknowledging the challenges this generation faces alone, as her peers fall into pre-destined roles, wholly unaware. As stringent societal strictures cut through what few, menial advancements these two and their compatriots in youth are capable of exacting, an unspoken but unavoidable struggle is born between past and future, what one is bound to do and what one endeavours to do. Nana Ekvtimishvili leaves us unsure if Eka and Natia will ever be capable of making these advancements they evidently endeavour to make, in a country still clinging to its past, comfortable in its pre-destined role. But while it accepts its violence and abuse, it cannot ignore their repercussions, as characters mete out vengeance on others, paying forward crimes committed against them. Our passive and impassive protagonist becomes more reactionary as she is delegated responsibilities of her own, both by adults who seem to expect her to be equal parts obedient child and independent adult, and by Natia, whose questionable influence makes for the greatest adjustment Eka must manoeuvre. How she elects to apply her new, largely self-imposed duties as a mature individual forms the foundation for much of In Bloom's drama and tension, and it's riveting as a result. A scene where she demonstrates as much via traditional dance is utterly captivating, and may make you want to applaud. Performances from young Lika Babluani and Mariam Bokeria are outstanding.
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