Music documentaries – and for that matter, those about artists of all stripes – can often fall into the trap of hoping the subject itself will provide the innovation. It can leave films feeling far less thrilling than the radical work or complex individual that they are depicting. In Alexander Koridze’s Atonal Glow, which was selected for the documentary competition at the Sarajevo Film Festival, there is a real sense of trying to capture the energy and contradictions of the film’s star, the Georgian piano prodigy Tsotne Zedginidze. Home movies and candid observational documentary are combined with footage of incredible recitals to capture both the aura of watching him play and the tensions between being a child and a virtuoso.
Part of what Koridze does so well in the film is juxtaposing the personal and public, showing the boy behind the musician. In an early scene, Tsotne tries out a scuffed old piano and is frustrated by the poor quality of sound emanating from it – “Horrible!” Almost immediately after this, he is seen blowing out the candles on his tenth birthday cake. The push and pull of these two sides of Tsotne’s life constantly recur. In another instance, he is seen refusing to practice and throwing a tantrum at the very possibility, despite an impending concert which his grandmother, Nina, reminds him he’ll want to be ready for. Elsewhere, during a break from his rehearsals with the Georgia National Symphony Orchestra, Tsotne turns gleefully to the camera to explain that they’re spending their downtime in Dunkin’ Donuts.
Another way that this manifests itself is through the inclusion of excerpts of videos that Tsotne himself has made. Some of them are almost like diaries – in one sequence he records and narrates a trip to visit the celebrated Georgian composer Nikoloz Rachveli – and others are comical short films that hum with the same exuberance and energy as his piano playing. In the Atonal Glow’s opening moments, Tsotne and his younger sister, Nino, perform a ballet for the camera as if they are at the Bolshoi. At other points, the subjects range from an unexpectedly disquieting little horror film to a whimsical adventure in which a stovetop kettle valiantly foils a burglary. This is the closest that Koridze is able to bring us to Tsotne’s perspective, and it is telling – and a fitting reminder – that these videos are skewed more towards playing games than music.
Of course, one of the most memorable and electrifying elements of the film is Tsotne turning his hand to the piano. Across the course of the 67-minute running time, there are numerous examples of this, ranging from the aforementioned stroppiness at an out-of-tune instrument to his public performances and a special private recital for Daniel Barenboim, the director of the Berlin State Opera. Koridze captures these different experiences in different ways, with the public shows – perhaps from necessity – shot at more of a remove, while some of the practice sessions are filmed with intimacy, askew angles, and cut together at a furious pace. The form seems to emanate from the force and resonance of the notes themselves. In one particular scene, Tsotne is demonstrating a new composition to Rachveli and, as he explains the different components and structure of the piece, the waves of delight breaking over the venerated conductor’s face are as exhilarating as the music itself.
Elsewhere, Tsotne recalls to Rachveli what formed the inspiration for his first atonal composition: “then my father pulled my aunt’s ear and we started crying.” While Koridze doesn’t necessarily seek to draw specific lines between Tsotne’s family situation and his music, the above is just one of several asides that hint at a complicated dynamic. Tsotne and his sister live with their grandmother and not their father who makes occasional visits to teach them English and deliver gifts. There is clearly an underlying tension with regards to this setup. As the film progresses it becomes evident that a custody battle is underway and that the children wish to stay with their grandmother, claiming to fear their father. The veracity of these claims is never interrogated, but this situation – along with the death of their mother, mentioned in passing – form a fascinating backdrop to Tsotne’s astonishing music. It is just another way in which the audience is reminded that they are watching a little boy. A boy who lost his mother, who gets tired and cranky as a ten-year-old should, who has a raucous and creative sense of humour, and who composes enrapturing music that belies his tender age and experience. Bravo!
Director, screenplay, cinematography, editing: Alexander Koridze
Music: Tsotne Zedginidze
Production company: Spark Laboratory (Georgia)
Venue: Sarajevo Film Festival (Competition – Documentary Film)
In Georgian
67 minutes
