Filmmaker Emily Mkrtichian

There Was, There Was Not: Emily Mkrtichian’s Quiet Tour de Force about Artsakh

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“The falling of a leaf is quieter than the felling of a forest, but it tells us just as much about the coming of autumn.”

Anon

It is a truism of introductory film school courses that the camera should show and not tell. In her first feature documentary, “There was, There Was Not,” American director Emily Mkrtichian lets her camera seep into the lives of four women from Artsakh, whom we follow before, during and after the 2020 Nagorno-Karabakh War, all the way up to the surrender and evacuation by Artsakhtsis of this historically Armenian land.

Svetlana (Sveta) Haratunyan works as a minesweeper; Siranoush Sargsyan is an aspiring politician; Gayané Hambardzumyan, a women’s rights activist; and Sose Balasanyan, a world-class judo competitor who gives lessons to young children in Stepanakert. These four brave women try to better their communities in this idyllic Artsakh setting.

A still from “There Was and There Was Not”

We meet Sveta while she is picnicking by a riverbank with her two daughters. They eat fresh mulberries, make jokes and splash water at each other. There are references throughout the film to Artsakh being like heaven. Here and in sweeping shots of the surrounding mountains, we feel that this is perhaps indeed the case.

Some images that remain after a first viewing include a chair in the middle of a field where Sose and the others take turns sitting, and the filmmaker running to hug one of the women as she breaks down and cries. The recurring image of water boiling over as Gayané, now a refugee in Yerevan prepares Armenian coffee and worries about not having the proper cups to serve it in. Later she describes to one of the other women her memory of the rustling of leaves as air traverses the trees in the village of Jdrduz. One of them says: “People who saw what happened think they understand. But they don’t…The place (Artsakh), becomes part of you.”

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Apart from scant footage of bombs falling on Stepanakert, Mkrtichian mercifully. spares the viewer the bloodshed and violence that accompany so many war-related documentaries. She shows us instead Sveta lighting candles and then, still holding her cell phone tightly, crying herself to sleep when she cannot reach her daughters whom she has evacuated the night before. We see Siranush contemplating a map of a unified Armenia and Artsakh on her wall being comforted by an elder — a friend or her mother perhaps — who tells her quietly:  “Listen: this land that we had, this is a strange game going on. We really don’t know what happened and it’s not up to us…Our boys that’s another story. The land is temporary but they’re gone forever.“ For the two women, but for the viewer as well , this works both as a message of resignation but also strangely enough, offers hope that things may someday change.

Apart from a few reverse shots of people crossing the street backwards, Mkrtichian avoids using technical devices or cinematic clichés to get her points across. Also to her credit, she also avoids falsely demonizing Azeris, though she clearly outlines the crimes their army and government commit against the Armenians in Artsakh. It is through pacing and by her astute choice of whom to portray in the first place that she achieves much of the emotion that the viewer feels throughout the documentary. Their charisma makes their emotional journey ours as well. The only criticism that I might have of the documentary is that Mkrtichian might have pushed the feminist angle at work here even more: i.e. would we have war if women ran the world? For me, it is the theoretical elephant in the cinematic room at the end of Mkrtichian’s bravado 94 minutes of filmmaking. Maybe the filmmaker can take up this in a different documentary, under different circumstances.

A still from “There Was and There Was Not”

There was and there was not. Traditional Armenian folktales begin with this admonition, one often hard to decipher. Here the metaphor and reality meet on different levels. By bookending her tale with this quote and by herself poetically reciting a retelling of the Biblical flood story in which Artsakh and not the Ararat plain are the site where man repopulates the Earth, Mkrtichian brings a fascinating depth to recent Armenian history. And in doing so, she also leaves the door open for the hope that one day Armenians will be back in Artsakh, and that they will continue to exist in this fabled land, just as today they continue to exist, if sometimes hidden, all along the Armenian highlands. Mkrtichian’s poetic recitation of the flood myth brings a fitting close to a small but important documentary which transcends its medium to become poetry itself.

“There Was, There Was Not “opens its theatrical release on October 10 at New York City’s DCTV Firehouse Theatre. To see a clip, visit https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LLoA6koTJF4&t=12s

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