Director: Sergei Parajanov
Writers: Sayat Nova, Sergei Parajanov
Photography: Suren Shakhbazyan
Music: Tigran Mansuryan
Editors: Sergei Parajanov, Marfa Ponomarenko, Sergei Yutkevich
Cast: Sofiko Chiaureli, Spartak Bagashvili, Gogi Gegechkori, Melkon Alekyan, Medea Japaridze, Vilen Galstyan
This art film curiosity from late-‘60s USSR was intended by director Sergei Parajanov as a kind of intuitive biography of 18th-century Armenian poet Sayat Nova—to be sure, not a literal straightforward bio but more of an “inspired by” type of thing, indulging all poetic impulses however extravagant. Indeed, mimes are involved. The Color of Pomegranates delivers on the implied promise of the title, with vibrant color and often quite strikingly beautiful images. There is almost no dialogue or even that much of a discernible through-line, though keyed in many ways to a bio’s chronology.
Soviet censors worried that it was not literal enough and that it fell far short of a fair biography of anyone. They demanded the original title be changed and all specific reference to Sayat Nova removed. A headnote was added: “This film is not the story of a poet’s life. Instead, the filmmaker has attempted to recreate the world of a poet—the modulation of his soul, his passions, and his torments—broadly utilizing the symbolism and allegories of medieval Armenian troubadors.”
This art film curiosity from late-‘60s USSR was intended by director Sergei Parajanov as a kind of intuitive biography of 18th-century Armenian poet Sayat Nova—to be sure, not a literal straightforward bio but more of an “inspired by” type of thing, indulging all poetic impulses however extravagant. Indeed, mimes are involved. The Color of Pomegranates delivers on the implied promise of the title, with vibrant color and often quite strikingly beautiful images. There is almost no dialogue or even that much of a discernible through-line, though keyed in many ways to a bio’s chronology.
Soviet censors worried that it was not literal enough and that it fell far short of a fair biography of anyone. They demanded the original title be changed and all specific reference to Sayat Nova removed. A headnote was added: “This film is not the story of a poet’s life. Instead, the filmmaker has attempted to recreate the world of a poet—the modulation of his soul, his passions, and his torments—broadly utilizing the symbolism and allegories of medieval Armenian troubadors.”
What follows is a series of tableaux constructed from elements of cinematic mise en scene: lighting, pose, isolated objects and their placement, mimes and the main players with their mechanical routines, often simply sitting or standing in place. These tableaux depict scenes from the life of “The Poet,” but often in high-flying metaphorical ways that are not always obvious. The results are often remarkable, often with a religious flavor. One source of inspiration for Parajanov was the so-called miniature, the precise little illustrations that appear in Armenian and Persian holy literature.
The Color of Pomegranates is divided into basically chronological sections—Childhood, Youth, etc.—with lines of poetry from Sayat Nova, much of that as notable as the images: “How shall I defend the wax fortresses of my love from your crimson fires?” This structure may putatively be the through-line I’m missing. It’s there, but hard to make out from section to section as development.
I’m not sure how to classify this movie beyond “art film.” It’s often surreal, for example, but I don’t think it’s remotely intended as surrealism. Some camera tricks, some primitive, are used for “magical” effects. Some work better than others but in general I would say they work all right for me. I’m willing to give the picture some rope, because it so often looks so amazing, with riveting complex images that must be studied. The entrancing vibe, such as it is, is often derived from tricks of the theater—a lot of the picture’s most indelible imagery is created with painted sets, lighting, and costumes. At the same time, the composition of many of these shots can be almost ostentatiously elaborate, with use of deep focus to highlight details in the background. I even caught myself thinking about Citizen Kane at one point.
Other images are just cunning in their conception, put over by audacity as much as anything, such as one with approximately one dozen priests in robes devouring large apples with great lust. It felt passingly like a hit of director Luis Bunuel and his caustic treatment of the church. But I’m reasonably sure The Color of Pomegranates has no fight with the Roman Catholic Church or the Eastern Orthodox Church either or indeed with religion at all. Religion was part of the poet’s life so it’s part of the movie. Religion is not treated as ridiculous but more as mysterious, powerful, even genuinely sacred. And it is felt more than understood.
In fact, we’re often inside churches. There are many scenes of people just doin’ stuff around the church, though it’s kind of weird stuff. Like digging. Or climbing in and out of holes with a candle. There are also a few scenes of grapes being crushed under bare feet, which I admit I found disgusting. Then come the sheep, by the dozens. Sheep and more sheep, inside the church, where a guy is digging. Sheep all over the place. I’m not sure what it was all about. I think a funeral might have been taking place.
The boy playing “The Poet as a Child” (Melkon Alekyan) has a memorable and even haunting face, but I was not entirely convinced by the man playing “The Poet as an Old Man” (Gogi Gegechkori). Gegechkori looks Christ-like enough but too young to be an Old Man. “Might be 45?” I’ve got in my notes and, sure enough, when I looked it up Gegechkori was about that age when the picture was shot.
The Color of Pomegranates had a restoration in 2014 and looks more amazing than probably ever in the Criterion edition. There’s a lot of great shots all over it but, even at a relatively short length, I found myself getting restless and my mind wandering. I’m the kind of simpleton who would benefit from maybe a little more narrative through-line, but the picture is in the top 200 movies of all time in the big list at They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They? for a reason. Even if you’re bored it’s got images that are bound to get you. The world of a poet indeed—"the modulation of his soul, his passions, and his torments.” What it looks like. With mimes.
The Color of Pomegranates is divided into basically chronological sections—Childhood, Youth, etc.—with lines of poetry from Sayat Nova, much of that as notable as the images: “How shall I defend the wax fortresses of my love from your crimson fires?” This structure may putatively be the through-line I’m missing. It’s there, but hard to make out from section to section as development.
I’m not sure how to classify this movie beyond “art film.” It’s often surreal, for example, but I don’t think it’s remotely intended as surrealism. Some camera tricks, some primitive, are used for “magical” effects. Some work better than others but in general I would say they work all right for me. I’m willing to give the picture some rope, because it so often looks so amazing, with riveting complex images that must be studied. The entrancing vibe, such as it is, is often derived from tricks of the theater—a lot of the picture’s most indelible imagery is created with painted sets, lighting, and costumes. At the same time, the composition of many of these shots can be almost ostentatiously elaborate, with use of deep focus to highlight details in the background. I even caught myself thinking about Citizen Kane at one point.
Other images are just cunning in their conception, put over by audacity as much as anything, such as one with approximately one dozen priests in robes devouring large apples with great lust. It felt passingly like a hit of director Luis Bunuel and his caustic treatment of the church. But I’m reasonably sure The Color of Pomegranates has no fight with the Roman Catholic Church or the Eastern Orthodox Church either or indeed with religion at all. Religion was part of the poet’s life so it’s part of the movie. Religion is not treated as ridiculous but more as mysterious, powerful, even genuinely sacred. And it is felt more than understood.
In fact, we’re often inside churches. There are many scenes of people just doin’ stuff around the church, though it’s kind of weird stuff. Like digging. Or climbing in and out of holes with a candle. There are also a few scenes of grapes being crushed under bare feet, which I admit I found disgusting. Then come the sheep, by the dozens. Sheep and more sheep, inside the church, where a guy is digging. Sheep all over the place. I’m not sure what it was all about. I think a funeral might have been taking place.
The boy playing “The Poet as a Child” (Melkon Alekyan) has a memorable and even haunting face, but I was not entirely convinced by the man playing “The Poet as an Old Man” (Gogi Gegechkori). Gegechkori looks Christ-like enough but too young to be an Old Man. “Might be 45?” I’ve got in my notes and, sure enough, when I looked it up Gegechkori was about that age when the picture was shot.
The Color of Pomegranates had a restoration in 2014 and looks more amazing than probably ever in the Criterion edition. There’s a lot of great shots all over it but, even at a relatively short length, I found myself getting restless and my mind wandering. I’m the kind of simpleton who would benefit from maybe a little more narrative through-line, but the picture is in the top 200 movies of all time in the big list at They Shoot Pictures, Don’t They? for a reason. Even if you’re bored it’s got images that are bound to get you. The world of a poet indeed—"the modulation of his soul, his passions, and his torments.” What it looks like. With mimes.
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