Since Otar Left

In a weather‑worn district of Tbilisi, three generations occupy a modest, crack‑ling‑electricity apartment that buzzes with the ordinary struggles of post‑Soviet Georgia. The streets outside echo with frequent blackouts and the slow rhythm of a city trying to rebuild itself, while inside the cramped rooms a quiet resilience takes shape. The mood is simultaneously weary and warm, a blend of faded Soviet nostalgia and the restless promise of a world beyond the city’s aging walls.

Eka, the family’s matriarch, clings fiercely to the letters and imagined voice of her son, a doctor who left for far‑away Paris in search of a better life. Her love for his French ways is matched only by her steadfast, old‑world convictions, creating a delicate tension between past and future. Marina, her daughter, bears the weight of practical survival—selling heirlooms to keep the household afloat—yet feels a deep responsibility to preserve her mother’s fragile peace. Ada, the bright‑eyed granddaughter, straddles the line between youthful optimism and the heavy expectations of her elders, dreaming of a life that might echo her uncle’s adventurous spirit.

The film moves like a soft‑spoken confession, its tone a tender mix of melancholy and hope. As the women navigate the thin line between reality and comfort, they craft a shared illusion to shield Eka from a truth that could shatter her already frail world. This delicate charade becomes the quiet engine of the story, inviting viewers to wonder how far love and imagination can stretch in a place where every day is a quiet act of survival.

Last Updated: August 10, 2025 at 10:49