QUICK AND DIRTY: LIVE FROM LOCARNO

Gonga (Nikolo Ghviniashvili) and Bart (Nika Gongadze) are cousins. They set up a get-rich-quick scheme by converting rusty crosses found in the local landfill into neon crucifixes. Their sales efforts result in a kaleidoscopic journey through the homes of fascinating people. Holy Electricity serves as an unconventional love letter to the city of Tbilisi. Kotetishvili wants to capture the unrelentingly colourful capital in all of its magnificence. We slowly drift around Tbilisi, stumbling upon eccentric houses and peculiar characters. The two males are the self-proclaimed “kings of the scrapyard”, modern-day scavengers of sorts. They provide the story’s main perspective, but in reality the film has a different protagonist: the city itself.

The cinematography is spellbinding, evoking The Colour of Pomegranates (Sergei Parajanov, 1969), from neighbouring Armenia: both movies emphasise elaborate, evocative long shots. The set design is immaculate. Just sit back and breeze through the lively settings. Objects are at the core of the aesthetic of Holy Electricity. The way that Kotetishvili arranges each household is masterful. The attention to detail in is unmatched, tempting the viewer to scour the screen for each unintentional item. The dreamy collection of meticulously crafted vignettes contains some genuinely memorable images. Holy Electricity seeks to inject surrealism into the banal and the mundane.

Kotetishvili has a Richard Linklater-esque passion for the flaneur. The two cousins are observers. They are not the most efficient salesmen, their best tactic becomes listening to the woes of each potential buyer, winning their affection in the process. The plot is simple, and the development is gentle. The focus is on these peripheral characters, their microgestures, and the conversations about friendship. These interactions are delicately uncanny and yet palpably warm. The vaguely nonchalant attitude of the characters and comedic undertones may bring Yorgos Lanthimos to mind.

Ghviniashvili and Gongadze are newcomers, and at times this shows. Their performances occasionally lapse into numbness. The relationship between the cousins is a little vague and ambiguous. We begin to understand the tensions as their journeys drift apart in the second half of the movie.

Ultimately, Holy Electricity is a film bursting with optimism. It sheds a very positive light on the community portrayed. Kotetishvili’s humanistic approach finds both pride and joy in Georgian culture. A strikingly well executed debut signals a promising career ahead.

Holy Electricity just premiered in the Cineasti del Presente section of the 77th Locarno Film Festival.