Spoilers ahead.
Roman Musheghyan’s film It’s Spring(2022) carefully navigates the tension between Armenian national pride and personal ambition, posing the poignant question: what is it that matters most?
For protagonist Levon, this question manifests in a decision to participate in national military service or not. Set against the backdrop of Armenia’s tumultuous and devastating history and based on the events of the Four Day War of 2016, this film ruminates on the complicated idea of unquestioning patriotism.
An entrancing violin solo opens the film. A talented musician captured by the sound he produces is revealed as Levon, a young Armenian man. Levon plays in front of an orchestra for a competition; the prize – a coveted spot in one of London’s most prestigious music schools…and a valid reason to be exempt from participating in Armenia’s two-year compulsory military service. However, if Levon abstains, he would be betraying his grandfather Aram, a retired Army commander who had actively fought for his country.
The recurring question of the value placed on individual desires versus a commitment to the collective struggle of your country is explored through the characterisation of Gnel, Levon’s father, and Aram. Gnel,vehemently against the prospect of his son having to go through the gruelling experience of military service, loves his country, but is not willing to sacrifice everything for it.
Intended to contrast, Aram sees service as a crucial commitment to the longevity of Armenian existence. A tense dinner table scene sees these opinions boil to the surface, Though the performances are convincing and invite the audience to understand perspectives from both ends of the spectrum, the dialogue often lacks subtlety. Amidst a natural increase in tension during an argument, Aram’s perfectly formulated monologue is still able to cut through:“Nobody wants war, Gnel. No parent wants his son to go and sacrifice his life, but if you don’t protect your borders today, tomorrow the enemy will be breaking down your door.”
Importantly, Gnel and Aram’s starkly contrasting positions highlight an intergenerational divide on Armenia’s fight for self-determination.
Flashbacks periodically shown throughout the film reveal that Aram is speaking from experience. Though his commitment to Armenia cannot be questioned, his relationships with his family have clearly been impacted. His inability to care for his sick wife is a recurring motif, as well as his fractured relationship with Gnel, symbolising the sacrifices tied to his commitment to his country.
Decision time for Levon is a peak moment of tension in the film. With a swift exclamation at the dinner table, the scene is set. He will serve. Engulfed in a warm amber glow, Levon lifts his violin, inspects it, and plays for the final time. The viewer’s gaze traces the instrument, and Levon’s captivating musical prowess.
The tension breaks with a knock at the door, though Levon’s playing remains loud. A letter reveals he has in fact won the competition and been accepted into the prestigious music school in London. His father tries to tell him, yelling to gain his attention. Levon continues playing embodied and unmoved, drowning out his father. He will not change his decision. Though a visually and aurally stunning sequence, the symbolism is once again a little heavy handed, with the audience watching Levon bid adieu to his ambitions and dreams.
Where this film excels is in its capturing of the culture and natural beauty that is perhaps being preserved by this commitment to the army. Aerial shots of Armenia occur between scenes, showcasing the beautiful landscape. Additionally, a trip to an Armenian wedding invites the audience to bear witness to traditional Armenian practices. Armenia has historically been subject to genocide and with that, continued cultural loss. Thus, the film devotes the time and effort to representing what it is these soldiers are fighting to maintain.
The final half an hour of the film is marked by a long military sequence and is unquestionably devastating. While at first Levon’s military service seems uneventful, a twist signals a tonal shift and the military is no longer dormant. The military sequence that follows is violent and garners visceral reactions. Audience comprehension of the duty and cost of war are, however, inhibited by a degree of triviality. For example, a cartoonish set piece that sees Levon kill an enemy with his violin bow.
While the film’s message is important, it would have perhaps benefitted from a lighter touch with its symbolism and metaphors. Additionally, the female characters were underutilised, and only existed in respect to their male counterparts. Despite this, It’s Spring is a critical watch, giving an important voice to the difficult tension between individual ambition and one’s responsibility to the collective, particularly in the Armenian context.
It’s Spring (2022) was the closing film at the Armenian Film Festival as part of a spotlight on Artsakh.
