‘After Dreaming’ Review: A Hypnotic Portrait of an Armenian Existence Defined by War

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Christine Haroutounian’s debut film presents a layered journey through the Armenian countryside, initially appearing as a routine road trip. The story unfolds when a laborer is inadvertently killed, and his family hires a disillusioned soldier, Atom (Davit Beybutyan), to transport his teenage daughter Claudette (Veronika Poghosyan) far away until the funeral rites are complete. This situation unexpectedly evolves into an intimate bond between the two travelers. The straightforward narrative is soon overshadowed by a dream-like storytelling style, further accentuated by a haunting visual aesthetic.

The film has a surreal quality that seems to drift above reality, yet never loses sight of the harsh undercurrent beneath. For many members of the Armenian diaspora, including director Haroutounian, born and raised in Los Angeles, their sense of cultural identity and bond with the homeland can be complicated due to the persistent conflicts in the region, which have led to the displacement of ethnic Armenians. This sense of instability is reflected in the film’s narrative, given its conception and development. The storyline, marked by the unsettling presence of war as a recurring theme, began to crystallize in 2019. However, the Second Nagorno-Karabakh War reshaped it significantly the following year, ultimately resulting in the displacement of over 100,000 Armenians in 2023.

As I delve into this peculiar movie, I find myself navigating a timeless labyrinth, subtly veiled within the concept of contemporary times. This cinematic masterpiece is an exquisite example of temporal dislocation, accentuated by moments of surreal beauty and dialogue that echoes like a persistent melody on a loop — a haunting refrain of history repeating itself, skipping beats. The camera floats gracefully, capturing dramatic scenes with an oblique yet fresh perspective.

Characters, both Atom and Claudine, journey through the landscape, encountering various individuals, mostly non-professional actors. This eclectic cast lends a spectral quality to the film’s frames, reminiscent of Julian Schnabel’s work, where the focus is strategically blurred laterally, creating a painterly visual effect that seems to flatten and animate the images simultaneously. These ghostly scenes exist in a state of visual limbo, feeling like vivid fever dreams or out-of-body observations of dreamers themselves.

Haroutounian and cinematographer Evgeny Rodin create a borderline perspective on characters by detaching the camera lens from the body of the camera, thereby enhancing the disjointed feeling that permeates the film’s narrative. As Atom and Claudine grow more acquainted, our interest is sparked, yet the movie frequently leaps through time. One of the most striking examples is when it abruptly advances to their wedding day, alongside numerous other couples, in a lengthy sequence showcasing cultural festivities. This scene, which lasts over 15 minutes and is primarily shot in a single take, initially exudes great enthusiasm, but as it progresses, Haroutounian intertwines the joyous visuals with those of military rituals. The sounds of fireworks eventually merge with those of guns and explosions. War, it seems, persists even during moments of happiness, always lingering in the background.

The main storyline, which revolves around two characters brought together by fate, gradually seems more symbolic than crucial. This is surprising given the historical significance of mass weddings in modern Armenia (specifically 2008, a repopulation initiative). However, despite the convincing portrayals of Atom and Claudette as real people, the film’s artistic style transforms them into empty representations of the devastating impact of ethnic strife. The movie fails to address the void left by Atom’s dismissal from his position or Claudette’s separation from her family, suggesting that life has continued without them, leaving us as spectators to witness events outside the narrative frame, essentially someone else’s story.

As the camera focuses longer on them, they appear increasingly like spectral beings from a bygone era or one that primarily resides within the minds of those who have been scattered and displaced – the diaspora. The film “After Dreaming” seldom delves into specific political mechanisms; instead, it encapsulates a profound spiritual politics, transforming its romantic narrative into a haunting tale in the process.

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2025-02-14 20:16