GLASGOW FILM FESTIVAL 2020 - Running to the Sky
GLASGOW FILM FESTIVAL 2020
There is a parallel to be drawn between Mirlan Abdykalykov’s Running To The Sky (Jo Kuluk) and Tony Richardson’s The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner, which stretches between the elements of the narrative and the thematic landscape explored by the filmmaker.
However, branding this film as a Kyrgyzstani attempt at kitchen sink realism would be, at the very least, superficial, because Abdykalykov depicts the world in a manner almost completely devoid of political persuasion. He doesn’t seem interested in using a child’s perspective to explore class divisions within the Kyrgyzstani society, nor does he make any grand political statements or indictments of the ruling castes. Instead, he allows the story – narratively simplistic as it is – to do the talking for him and enable him to make more profound comments on certain aspects of the Kyrgyz culture and the intricacies of the human experience.
This story about Jekshen (Temirlan Asankadyrov), a young impoverished boy caring for his alcoholic father (Ruslan Orozakunov) and also happens to be a talented runner, becomes much more than an ode to Tony Richardson’s work. In fact, it carries a substantial baggage of inspiration derived from the work of Richardson’s predecessors – Italian neorealists like Roberto Rossellini and Vittorio De Sica – in that, it places its focus squarely at capturing life as it happens and effectively side-lining politically charged opinions. This filmmaking methodology renders Running To The Sky an increasingly interesting specimen, because it is simultaneously a fully functional coming-of-age drama, a piece of soulful neorealism, a hybrid grandchild of the aforementioned The Loneliness Of The Long Distance Runner and Bicycle Thieves, and a curiously poetic exploration of the human condition on a more general level.
Therefore, the film invites a multi-pronged analysis. It is possible, and perhaps encouraged, to apply these different filters and see the entire film completely differently on each separate occasion. One can surely drown out most of the neorealistic misery and focus on Jekshen’s affable character. or vice versa. However, a more holistic perspective may be needed to absorb most of the message intended by the filmmaker. Running To The Sky is at its most powerful when the net momentum of its constituent thematic and aesthetic pillars is considered. Although any of these cinematic flavours are strong enough to thrive in isolation, their combination gives the movie a rather unique character. It is a piece of poetic realism woven from the same fabric as the works of Asghar Farhadi, Abbas Kiarostami or Satyajit Ray. The movie freely transcends the confines of a brutally procedural storytelling and imbues its subject matter with a featherlight spirit and poetic ambiguity, which are especially noticeable towards the end.
This is a stunningly mature and profoundly subtle look at a culture which is both exotic to a western viewer and somehow familiar at the same time. Abdykalukov’s emotionally invested and technically accomplished filmmaking is what allows the film to homogenize its widely disparate inspirations and yield a thoroughly refreshing and compelling cinematic experience. Running To The Sky is a living example of how the legacy of post-war realism evolves differently under different cultural circumstances and, as a result, gives the audience a unique opportunity to examine archetypal themes of hardship, stepping up to the plate and navigating a seemingly hostile universe from a fresh perspective. That’s why this feature is great and why Mirlan Abdykalykov is a young, up-and-coming virtuoso who is well on his way to grow into the shoes of the masters he idolizes in his current work.
