While researching the country of Georgia for this review, I uncovered an eye-popping statistic: 69% of Georgian citizens polled in 2013 firmly believe that abortion is never excusable. Along with this societal stigma, endless government-mandated hurdles exist to deter people from this procedure. This includes what the Safe Abortion Access Fund describes as a policy wherein "patients seeking abortions must now first have an interview with a social worker, psychologist, and obstetrician-gynecologist.”
Abortion may be legal in Georgia, but it’s a nightmare to procure. Meanwhile, seething societal stigmas make the potential aftermath of abortions too daunting to contemplate. This is the horrifying modern reality April protagonist Nina (Ia Sukhitashvili) exists in. Writer/director Déa Kulumbegashvili chronicles this obstetrician as she drives out to remote Georgian corners to provide abortions to people who need them. Some folks simply don’t have the resources to fulfill all the prerequisites needed to get a legal abortion. Others (especially parents of underage girls who need abortions) are terrified of how anti-abortion sentiment will affect their lives and loved ones.
This is why Nina ventures into the shadows and uses her medical skills for technically illegal means. However, problems arise as Nina’s reputation as an abortion provider begins to spread through whispers amongst the townsfolk. Even more pressingly, on Nina’s official job, a newborn baby perishes as their mother is giving birth. An investigation is opened into this demise, which could allow hospital higher-ups to finally let Nina go. Both on the margins of Georgian society and in her very public hospital job, the storm clouds never stop thundering for Nina.
Kulumbegashvili and cinematographer Arseni Khachaturan display a level of visual control that's nothing short of extraordinary in April. This is only Kulumbegashvili's second feature-length movie, yet she imbues April with the imagery prowess of a seasoned pro. Much of that impressiveness comes from lengthy, unbroken shots capturing very mundane corners of Nina’s life. They're chiefly deployed when Nina drives great distances for her secret clients. The camera’s positioned on the car hood to somewhat simulate this woman’s point of view in the driver’s seat as cars, buildings, and other nearby objects zoom past.
Uninterrupted camerawork magnificently communicates how much energy Nina exerts before she even gets out her operating tools. To reach people in need requires an odyssey across Georgia that Kulumbegashvili’s uber-dedicated camerawork captures vividly. Such tremendous effort is required for tasks that could easily lead to Nina’s demise. All that turmoil also requires mundane obstacles, awkward code-laden conversations, and unexpected weather-based difficulties. Ordinary hurdles in these voyages potently materialize through mesmerizingly unvarying images.
Similar impressive visual expertise emanates from the camerawork in a critical sequence where Nina performs an abortion on Nana (Roza Kancheishvili). This operation is framed in a tight shot that lingers on her stomach. Everything above her shoulders and below the waist is off screen. The faces of Nana, Nina, and Nana's mother Mzia (Ana Nikolava) are invisible in this prolonged single take. There’s a clinical, candid quality to this framing that removes the sensationalism surrounding the demonization of abortion. Kulumbegashvili conveys the urgency of this operation, but also quiet tragedy that Nana can’t do this in more professional, comfortable confines. The problem here is not the abortion.
Instead, the issue here is the turmoil folks of marginalized genders must experience autonomy over their bodies in oppressive societies. Look at all the lengths people have to go to just to control when they are or aren’t pregnant. April isn’t the first movie to communicate this concept. However, the precise framing of this sequence, particularly removing people’s faces (a detail that also suggests this situation could happen in any country to anybody), is incredibly idiosyncratic. Also impressive in this standout sequence is the tremendous acting Nikolava does just with her writhing stomach and hand movements. Deprived of her face or speaking, Nikolava still offers evocative yet subtle glimpses into Nana's point of view. Her tremendous work encapsulates how this April scene is nothing short of a tour de force in its visual intricacies.
Much like the absent faces in that abortion sequence, April wrings immense power out of what isn’t on-screen. This includes sequences at Nina’s hospital job where her back is to the camera. As this woman experiences dressing downs from her superiors and patients, viewers don’t see her face. This is an inspired mirror of how Nina must keep so much of her life secret. She can’t express what she really feels just like moviegoers aren’t witnessing her facial expressions. Meanwhile, men who say the creepiest things to Nina exist off-screen. “Good girl” is what one guy barks out to this woman. When Nina is out traveling to a patient, meanwhile, some random dude out of frame begins sexually harassing her with.
There’s an infuriating tragedy to this behavior sprouting up throughout April. The women Nina encounters express terror over taking control of their lives. The very idea of even whispering the word “abortion” in public sends chills up their spine. Even Nina’s offer of birth control pills to non-pregnant women (who privately yearn to control when they have kids) goes nowhere. “What happens if my husband finds out?” these ladies inquire. April’s assorted women exist in constant distress. One wrong move, one pill that shouldn’t be there, one “evil” medical procedure, and their lives are over. Meanwhile, men just bellow out the crudest, dehumanizing phrases to women with aplomb. Treating women as objects will, if anything, only improve their standing with other men. The real injustice in society is women affirming their humanity.
Georgian society's double standards (which infiltrate capitalist nations worldwide, including America) tremendously inform the imposing stakes of Nina’s plight. They also enhance the impact of brief digressions into more tranquil sequences. These scenes, isolated from conventional society, focus on tight close-ups of flowers or cherry blossoms on gloriously sunny days. They also included recurring segments where Nina manifests as an older, naked woman. This version of Nina (finally displaying physical vulnerability she can't afford to express in her real form) is contemplatively sitting in a cabin or procuring silent support from a male co-worker.
These scenes are exceedingly impressive displays of imagery, whether it’s in the radiant hues of Georgian foliage or Nina’s alternate form inhabiting what looks like the black void from Under the Skin. They all contribute mightily to making Déa Kulumbegashvili’s haunting atmosphere so devastating. Within April’s understated form, displays of existing under ceaseless societal oppression ring out as loudly as a shotgun blast. Pre-viewing encyclopedic knowledge about Georgian abortion rights is not necessary to comprehend the filmmaking mastery informing April.