April

Not quite a thriller and not quite a horror movie, “April” is all the more haunting for never pinning down the roots of Nina’s retreat from life while dedicating herself to improving the lives of others.

It’s a serious approach that declines to show the audience the mother’s catharsis, a challenge to the idea that birth is always joy, and abortion always terror.

April confirms Kulumbegashvili as among the most essential and uncompromising European filmmakers, extending the promise of her 2020 debut Beginning.

By granting these medical interventions their proper duration and respect, Kulumbegashvili infuses them with an element of the sacred.

You could easily imagine April screened in a gallery as video art: part of its brilliance is in the tension it maintains between storytelling and a hardcore commitment to the imagistic.

“April” is as exquisite as it is excruciating: a film that will linger with you long afterward, but you’ll probably never want to watch it again.

... a quietly powerful exploration of oppression and resistance that’s both stylish and provocative — giving fresh relevance to familiar themes.

It's a formally audacious work whose stunning visuals are given that much more life by its stellar sound design.

It’s not unusual to say that something cuts through the silence but in Dea Kulumbegashvili’s April it’s the silence that cuts through us.

It’s such a bravura display of filmmaking that you’ll keep your eyes on the screen even when you want to look away.