April realizes quiet oppressive turmoil in unforgettably unique and precise ways

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In my research for this review about Georgia, I stumbled upon a striking fact: A survey conducted in 2013 revealed that approximately 69% of Georgian citizens view abortion as unjustifiable. Additionally, the people face numerous bureaucratic barriers when it comes to obtaining an abortion, making the process difficult. This difficulty is further exacerbated by requirements such as consultations with a social worker, psychologist, and obstetrician-gynecologist before the procedure can be carried out, as outlined by the Safe Abortion Access Fund.

In the world I’m describing, Georgia legally allows abortions, yet obtaining one is like navigating through a nightmare. The lingering societal prejudices surrounding this sensitive topic make contemplating the potential consequences of an abortion overwhelmingly frightening. This is the harsh reality that April’s protagonist, Nina (Ia Sukhitashvili), finds herself in. Writer and director Déa Kulumbegashvili chronicles the story of this obstetrician as she journeys to the far-flung corners of Georgia, offering abortions to those who desperately need them. For some, the resources required for a legal abortion are beyond reach. Others, particularly parents of underage girls requiring abortions, fear the backlash from anti-abortion sentiment, which could jeopardize their lives and the lives of their loved ones.

Nina finds herself working in the shadows, employing her medical abilities in ways that are technically unlawful. However, trouble brews as Nina’s role as an abortion provider gains traction among townspeople. Worse still, during her official hospital duties, a newborn child tragically dies during birth. This unfortunate event sparks an investigation into the baby’s death, which could potentially lead to Nina being dismissed from her job. Amidst Georgian society and in her public hospital position, Nina constantly faces the impending threat of turmoil.

Kulumbegashvili and cinematographer Arseni Khachaturan demonstrate an exceptional level of visual mastery in the film “April“. Despite it being only her second full-length movie, Kulumbegashvili infuses “April” with the powerful visual skills typically associated with a veteran director. A significant portion of this impact is due to extended, uninterrupted shots that capture ordinary aspects of Nina’s life. These shots are primarily used during scenes where Nina drives long distances for her clandestine clients. The camera is strategically placed on the car hood to provide a perspective similar to that of the woman driving, with cars, buildings, and other objects whizzing past as she looks on.

The seamless cinematography powerfully conveys the immense effort Nina puts forth before she even retrieves her surgical instruments. The journey to assist those in need takes an arduous trek across Georgia, which Kulumbegashvili’s tirelessly dedicated camerawork vividly portrays. Such great exertion is necessary for tasks that could potentially be Nina’s undoing. This turmoil also encompasses everyday challenges, awkward technical dialogues, and unforeseen weather-related complications. These routine obstacles in these trips are strikingly depicted through captivatingly consistent visuals.

The cinematography in a crucial scene displays an impactful, skilled portrayal as Nina (Ana Nikolava) performs an abortion on Mzia. This medical procedure is captured in close-up shots that focus primarily on Mzia’s abdomen, with her upper body and lower half hidden from view. The expressions of Mzia, Nina, and the girl’s mother are not visible during this prolonged single take, lending a raw, unflinching feel to the framing. This minimalist approach effectively eliminates the sensationalism often associated with the portrayal of abortion, instead highlighting its seriousness. The filmmaker, Kulumbegashvili, skillfully conveys the urgency and gravity of the operation while also underscoring the sadness that Mzia must undergo this procedure in less than ideal circumstances. The focus here is not on the abortion itself, but rather on the challenging situation Mzia finds herself in.

In this film, the focus is on the struggle for bodily autonomy faced by individuals identifying with marginalized genders in oppressive societies. People go to great lengths, even determining when they are or aren’t pregnant. This theme isn’t new to April, but the unique way it’s presented – through obscuring people’s faces, implying this could happen anywhere – is quite distinctive. The acting of Nikolava in this particular sequence is outstanding, as she uses only her writhing stomach and hand gestures to convey Mzia’s perspective, despite being deprived of a face or dialogue. This scene showcases the visual complexity that makes April an exceptional work.

Similar to the empty spaces in the abortion scene portrayal, April harnesses tremendous impact from what’s left unseen. This applies to scenes at Nina’s hospital job where her back is turned towards the camera. As this character endures reprimands from superiors and patients, the audience doesn’t catch a glimpse of her face. This parallels the secretive nature of Nina’s life, as she’s unable to reveal her true emotions just like viewers are deprived of seeing her facial expressions. In addition, men who make inappropriate comments to Nina remain off-screen. A man calls out “good girl” to this woman. During one of Nina’s patient visits, another unseen individual starts harassing her with sexually suggestive remarks.

In April, there’s a deeply upsetting pattern emerging where women are fearful of asserting control over their lives. Merely suggesting the word “abortion” in public leaves them shivering. Nina’s attempt to provide birth control pills to non-pregnant women, who secretly desire to plan their families, falls flat. Their concerns revolve around potential discovery by their husbands. Women during April are perpetually anxious, fearing one mistake could ruin their lives – a stray pill, an unwanted medical procedure, and they face severe consequences. In stark contrast, men confidently spew degrading comments towards women, seemingly elevating their status among other men. The true injustice lies in women fighting for their human rights and dignity.

As a film enthusiast, I cannot help but notice how the complexities and contradictions within Georgian society – a pattern that echoes across capitalist nations like America – significantly shape the intense struggles portrayed in Nina’s narrative. These undercurrents also lend weight to the serene interludes, providing a stark contrast to the tumultuous sequences.

In these moments of respite, we are transported away from conventional society and find ourselves immersed in close-ups of vibrant flowers or cherry blossoms basking under the sun’s warm embrace. These scenes also feature recurring segments where Nina transforms into an older, bare woman, a version that allows her to express the physical vulnerability she must otherwise conceal. This incarnation of Nina is often seen in a cabin, deep in thought, or silently receiving comfort from a male colleague.

These scenes are incredibly powerful visual representations, whether they’re the vibrant colors of Georgian autumn or the depiction of Nina in a form resembling the dark void from “Under the Skin”. Each one greatly enhances the eerie ambiance that Déa Kulumbegashvili creates so powerfully. In the subtle style of “April”, we can still hear the loud cries of societal oppression as clear as a gunshot. Knowing about Georgian abortion laws before watching “April” isn’t essential to appreciate the filmmaking genius it showcases.

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2025-04-29 21:15