1969 ‘Նռան գույնը’ Directed by Sergei Parajanov
The life of the revered 18th-century Armenian poet and musician Sayat-Nova. Portraying events in the life of the artist from childhood up to his death, the movie addresses in particular his relationships with women, including his muse. The production tells Sayat-Nova's dramatic story by using both his poems and largely still camerawork, creating a work hailed as revolutionary by Mikhail Vartanov.
Spartak Bagashvili Sofiko Chiaureli Medea Japaridze Vilen Galustyan Giorgi Gegechkori Melkon Alekyan Gogi Gegechkori Hovhannes Minasyan Onik Minasyan Yuri Amiryan I. Babayan Medea Bibileishvili T. Dvali Aleksandr Dzhanshiyev Guranda Gabunia Zh. Gharibyan L. Karamyan G. Margaryan G. Matsukatov Yuri Merdenov Bela Mirianashvili E. Panakhchyan B. Tatishvili
The Colour of Pomegranates, Sayat Nova, Սայաթ-Նովա, Nřan guynə, 사야트 노바, 석류의 빛깔, Колір гранату, Боја нара, El color de la granada, Zakuro no Iro, Nran Guyne, Brotseulis kvaviloba, Tsvet granata, Цвет граната, Red Pomegranate, Цветът на нара, Die Farbe des Granatapfels, El color de las granadas, La Couleur de la grenade, Il colore del melograno, De Kleur van Granaatappels, Kwiat granatu, A Cor da Romã, Granatäpplets färg, Колір граната, 石榴的颜色
UK
BFI London Film Festival
USSR
USSR
Netherlands
UKPG
Germany
Netherlands
UK
Germany
Netherlands
UK
USSR
There’s a pretty reassuring review on here that was something I knew before watching this but needed to hear again afterwards where it describes the visuals as “meaning whatever they mean to you.” This film is very personal, and how it is approached depends entirely on how you look at it. I found myself feeling so many different emotions throughout this thing. Excited, irritated, depressed, turned on, uncomfortable, you name it. It’s a film about this man’s life but is also incredibly personal to the viewer, with visuals so abstract yet so specific, you can’t argue that this doesn’t make you feel something. It’s using filmmaking in a way that feels so easy yet so mastered and reminded me how powerful this medium is. I got a very specific experience out of this and what’s so amazing about it is that I guarantee you will too, but it will most likely be completely different.
cinema as poetry and poetry as cinema. a work so ingrained into the psyche of its subject that it requires every cell in your body to be tuned to its wavelength. if you do just that, you'll be rewarded with one of the most visually stunning and seriously beguiling films ever crafted. one of the only times where my inability to access parts of the "plot" (or in this case lyrical and poetic enchantments) enriches my experience; this was this mans life and only his to live. i will try to understand what i can, always...yet sometimes we can only be curious passerbys. a film i think that will only get better with age and experience.
***One of the best 150 films I have ever seen.***
Sayat Nova is two things for me: the life stages of a poet's life interpreted subjectively and visually rather than literally (through a straightforward narrative), and the representation of the Armenian culture in violent times, again seen through the eyes of the poet. Each stage of the film depicts the poet's life: his growth, his poetry depicting what his eyes saw about his mother Armenian culture, his life in a monastery, his discovery of eroticism, his immersion in literature, his death, everything with interruptions of Armenia's persecution.
Having troubles with the film because of its completely abstract and unexplained imagery? Fear not, because they mean whatever they mean to you.…
A film that tells the story of a life through medieval religious imagery, snippets of song and poetry, repetition, rhythm, and other heavily symbolic shots, with almost no explanation whatsoever. Beautiful and mesmerizing.
This is a beautifully shot movie about the life of 18th Century poet Sayat-Nova. Often referred to as "visual poetry", it moves from scene to scene, packing a lot into each frame and challenging the audience to find the meaning behind character's actions and props.
There's a lot to appreciate, mostly the visual style and the idea of making a biopic of a poet so poetic, though if I'm being honest, I just didn't connect to it.
I struggle with what to say about "great films" that I don't connect with because my first reaction is to blame myself for not getting it. I had a similar experience watching a Rainer Werner Fassbinder film recently. It was considered one of…
Yes, a piece of art is a piece of art and can mean anything to anyone and art in general can be entirely interpretation and singular vision, but that doesn't mean I have to always enjoy it, so I'm just gonna chalk it up to a "not for me" and leave it at that before some artbro starts explaining to me how I just don't appreciate cinema enough.
people really like to do viral tweets about how a cheese-it would kill a pilgrim or Anne Boleyn on Tinder but I think what sort of escapes us is how wholly bizarre the past would feel to folks like us (using app to track movies). I get that this is an impressionistic interpretation of life but it feels as close to me as film can get to capturing what an alien, overwhelming, beautiful, and haunting experience that would be. sort of like getting your tarot read? great flick!
please take a minute to read this, it might pay off for when you watch future artsy projects you don’t understand.
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“what is art?” is what my brain started asking myself after having watched, possibly the most interpretable, and arguably the most apt to the subject speaking, yet difficult to dissect pieces of cinema ever crafted.
you may be asking - “if it’s so interpretable, then why is it such an arduous task to properly examine it?” and to that i say - “i’m not totally sure.” it could be that when bequeathed with the untold, multifarious, innumerable amount of answers this film serves you, it’s frightfully hard to appoint the one that’s right to you. or, for…
Is this the real life?
Is this just poetry?
Caught in Armenia
No escape from reality
In the beginning, there was God.
and Sergei Parajanov it seems.
Sayat Nova is deep. Very, very deep.
What an explosion of thoughts this is. At first, I was trying to find the sense in it and then relaxed and just let it wash over me. Like a tie-dye multicoloured menagerie of images that initially appear as paintings on screen, and together create a journey through a gallery of Armenian colour with splashes of joy and sharp strokes of despair.
This is not your regular film. If allowed, it takes you to a different place where the mind can imagine what might have been…
An artist uses another to held celebration for all things he holds dear. Because sometimes the most essential political acts are the most personal.
Morose prose from the tormented source. Torrent, sole soul and pole purposes. Engulfed by stretched words, breached in screen with rhythmic rhymes. The birth, the blossom, the get by, the goodbye. Opened books and the wind flipping the pages. The child and the witnessing. Picking strings and ticking tunes. The blueprint of his childhood moon. Silver, lettered, high above the ground.
And there she was, the muse. The source of stimulus and abuse. Of selfish love, of selfless love, on and off. Erotic colors at the peak of the blossom. Fire in fire cloth. Desire and the raining lyrics. Crimson in person, imprisonment of God's son. And then heartache, followed by heartache. Another one, and then some.
Fire at the…
