If Only Everyone

Gurgen works as an electronics expert in a body shop and carries himself with a gloomy ease that hides a quiet pride in his combat merit from the Karabakh conflicts. He remains respected by those around him, yet the war's weight lingers in his eyes. His day-to-day routine hints at a man looking for meaning beyond memory.

A young girl named Sasha, daughter of his fallen half Armenian, half Russian comrade, asks Gurgen to escort her to her father's grave to plant a birch tree she brought. She presses him with urgency, insisting that he knows the road better than anyone to help honor her father's memory. The request pulls Gurgen from routine into a mission rooted in grief and duty.

They set out with the hope that a friend in Vayk can locate the grave's exact location. The journey hints at rekindling an old circle of acquaintances who once inhabited the war's margins. The mission becomes a search across memories as much as across geography.

Upon reaching the area, they discover the grave lies beyond the border, forcing them to face the reality that some memories reside in contested ground. The mood shifts from a hopeful errand to a perilous undertaking. They realize that planting the birch will require crossing into dangerous territory.

They decide to take their chances and attempt to plant the birch at the grave despite the political risk. The decision marks a turning point as personal memory collides with physical danger. The birch becomes a living thread between families separated by decades of conflict.

An Azerbaijani shepherd checks them while they work, a reminder that both sides carry loss. He explains that his ten-year-old son died on a landmine after living in Shushi. He too would like to plant a tree in memory of his son, sharing a common impulse to remember the dead.

The shepherd's grief reveals a common humanity across the divide and intensifies the idea of honoring life through trees. The conversation plants a seed of empathy between former foes who briefly share a grieving moment. They understand that memory can become a bridge rather than a barrier.

Gurgen and Sasha decide to plant a second tree on the Azerbaijani boy's gravesite, honoring the loss that transcends national lines. They commit to a double act of remembrance that binds both communities through shared sorrow. The trees stand as living witnesses to the war's human cost.

The war's chaos has scattered people and muddled loyalties, yet the encounter intensifies their resolve to do something meaningful together. The story emphasizes that behind every headline, real lives persist with unsoftened feelings and unresolved grief. The act of planting roots becomes a way to cope with the past.

Gurgen must confront his past and the old friends with whom he once defended their ideals, realizing their paths have diverged over twenty years. The confrontation hints at re-evaluating loyalties, guilt, and forgiveness. The reunion is less about reconciliation and more about facing the consequences of long-ago choices.

The daughter of a Russian soldier and an Armenian woman who suffered in the Sumgait pogroms awakens long-forgotten sentiments in Gurgen and his companions. Her memory becomes a catalyst for renewed empathy and a reevaluation of their own lives. Her presence threads through the memory of the battlefield and the personal losses that fuel their present actions.

Together they join efforts to help their friend's daughter, facing trials and adventures along the way. The mission tests loyalties, courage, and the willingness to redefine purpose beyond mere memory. They learn that the birch tree stands for life as much as memory.

The birch tree planted becomes a symbol of life, not just a token for the departed, and it ties their renewed bond to a future they can share. They come to understand that their lives have purpose and that their actions on this journey give meaning to the past. The film closes on a note of continuity between memory and living, rooted in the trees they planted.