Return Of The Poet

Return of the Poet is a lyrical journey through Armenia, following the creation and transport of a statue. The simple telling from basic materials of the making of the clay used in the statue, and of the simple but poignant a cappella poetry that is sung as the only commentary, the film is a testament not only to Armenia's national poet but to the integrity of art, its roots far away from the superficiality of the world, and of the power and truth it can convey.

We begin by watching the artists' clay being made from the earth, mixed with water, kneaded first with bare feet and then with the hands. The refreshing and colourful earthiness asserts the simple dignity of the villager artist: "I am coarse and you're so refined," he sings of the city dwellers. "My cart is no hazard to your carriage."

There is a sense of watching the 'genius artist' at work (whatever that is). The title by now was also suggesting to me the return of poetry to our lives, especially city lives. We watch as it is conveyed with some difficulty slowly through a city.

Seeing the craftsmanship at the start, I was also 'transported', seeing how the perception of it gains in grandeur as we see the efforts put in to convey it across many miles. The song mentions the glorious churches that have been erected, even though the people have no food to eat. The implication is clear - "Look at his brains!" cries the singer.

At one point on the journey, we stop to observe some people, adults and children, emerging from a hole in a rock (presumably it is a natural local attraction). Perhaps it would be reading too much into it to say the hole, from another angle, with the sky shining through, seems like the eye of the artist, who comes from the earth. But the visual imagery is so beautiful and striking that it is easy for the viewer to find his or her own inspiration.

We pass colourful flags and festivities with costumes and dancing. There are curious (to the Western eye) wrestling sports and other local outdoor games in one rural area, accompanied by the routine slaughter and hacking up of a ewe for the pot from which all will feast. The beauty of the countryside is matched by the sincerity and ingeniousness of the rustic peoples gathered there, throwing a rare window open to glimpse some traditional Armenian life. We see the ox and cart as basics of civilised life, tilling the land. The land brings forth both sustenance and beauty, art in its different forms. There is a majesty in this silent statement, as if the sufficiency should not be wasted on superficiality. I felt that this film of such strange and poignant beauty was like a detox to the head.

"I have faith - keep your faith for the mice." Jivani was a poet who spanned the 19th and 20th centuries, a wanderer who sang to strangers. The sculpture of him is the centrepiece of the film, but this documentary stands on its own merit whether the viewer is aware of the history or not. As a reviewer, I know too little about art to express how well this film demonstrates it - I suggest you see it for yourself.