★★★☆☆
A Room of My Own is an intimate but unfinished portrait of female friendship, desire, and self-discovery in contemporary Tbilisi.
Ioseb ‘Soso’ Bliadze’s second feature, A Room of My Own, attempts to explore female friendship, intimacy, self-discovery, and the breaking of patriarchal norms against the backdrop of a COVID-ridden, locked-down spring in Tbilisi.
The film begins with Tina (Taki Mumladze) moving into a rented flat where Megi (Mariam Khundadze) lives. Megi parties, drinks, smokes, works for a sketchy foreign pharmaceutical company, dances under neon lights, blasts techno, parades around naked, befriends neighbourhood men, and faints a lot. In contrast to Megi’s flamboyant, cool-girl persona, Tina appears restrained and shy, seemingly a bit lost amidst the noise around her. Needless to say, the girls do not get off on the right foot.
Megi’s cool, aloof friends spend a lot of time at their apartment. During one of the parties, Vajiko (Lashao Gabunia) asks Tina about herself, only to learn that she is neither working nor studying: she left university after getting married, and that after her divorce, her only goal in life is to move in with her boyfriend Beka (Giorgi Tsereteli).
As the film unfolds, we learn that Tina cheated on her ex-husband with Beka and that her ex stabbed her — the angry red scar on her ribcage is shown several times. Her ex-husband is now in prison, and Tina is trying to begin a new life with Beka, though it soon becomes clear that these hopes are futile. Beka breaks up with her because his mother has learned about Tina’s ‘tainted’ past and does not want her son to date her. From his phone calls to their brief in-person encounter in a car, Tsereteli perfectly portrays an irresponsible and useless Georgian ‘mama’s boy’ who has no idea what he wants from life and lacks the backbone to stand by Tina.
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Following the breakup, Tina, estranged from her family because of the shame they believe she brought upon them, returns to the shared apartment and her forced self-discovery begins. She opens up to Megi and tries to embrace her lifestyle.
One night, after heavy drinking and smoking to celebrate Megi’s long-awaited US visa, Megi puts Tina to bed and, in an attempt to comfort her by massaging her stomach, sexually assaults her. There is no other way to describe it: the scene takes place between a nearly unconscious, highly intoxicated Tina and a fully conscious Megi, with consent neither asked for nor present. More importantly, the assault is never acknowledged or discussed and the scene adds nothing to the plot.
After her mother’s sudden death from COVID-19, Tina is not allowed at the funeral. This time, she initiates intimacy herself, seeking solace in Megi’s arms. Again, however, the scene falls short.
Mumladze and Khundadze, who won Best Actress Prize at the Karlovy Vary International Film Festival and give strong performances throughout the film, falter during the sex scenes. The artificiality is obvious, and so is the actors’ discomfort. From the first moments of these intimate scenes, the viewer — especially one accustomed to queer cinema — can tell that the film is both directed and shot by men (the director of photography was Dimitri Dekanosidze). The problem is not that the scenes feel overtly voyeuristic or crudely male-gazing; rather, they lack chemistry and intimacy. Visually present yet emotionally underexamined, they do not centre female pleasure, and it remains unclear whether they are meant to represent Tina’s queer awakening, an intimate rite of passage between two young women sharing a space, or a dissociative response to trauma after the earlier assault.
From its title, with its strong feminist allusion, to its restrained atmosphere, its sharp societal commentary, screenplay (written by Taki Mumladze and Bliadze himself), and performances, the film has the makings of something good. Its COVID-19-era limitations — minimal locations, sparse scenes, and a small cast — even strengthen the story’s intimacy. But in the end, it is not good or fresh enough, leaving the story feeling half-baked, half-told, and half-finished.
Film details: A Room of My Own (2022), directed by Ioseb ‘Soso’ Bliadze, 2022. It is available to watch at Cavea+.
