April (15) Close-Up Film Review

Set in a small Georgian town, we meet Nina (Ia Sukhitashvili), an obstetrician-gynaecologist, who’s all about her patients.

She’s single, emotionally reserved, and not one to mix business with pleasure. She lives for the Hippocratic oath and you can tell she wears it like armour. But when a newborn tragically dies seconds after delivery under her watch, Nina’s whole life gets flipped and dissected under a microscope.

The hospital, the town, her colleagues—they all start pulling away. And then the real twist? Nina’s been secretly performing abortions for women in the area. She’s not doing it for money, fame, or drama. She’s doing it because no one else will. In a community where silence and stigma scream louder than facts, she’s become the only option for many. But now, that choice is about to cost her everything.

This is where director Dea Kulumbegashvili grabs you. She doesn’t rush or sugarcoat a thing. Every frame is still, deliberate, and loaded with tension. The cinematography by Arseni Khachaturan is gorgeous in its bleakness—so many wide shots of Nina just… being. Alone. Still. Judged. And honestly, it mirrors the emotional numbness Nina carries as a shield.

Sukhitashvili delivers a powerhouse of a performance—low-key, internal, and haunting. You don’t get melodrama or grand speeches here. Just quiet defiance. She plays Nina like a woman who’s had to shut down every emotional door just to keep functioning. Her silence speaks volumes.

But let’s be real – April is not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. It’s intentionally slow, almost painfully so in parts. You’ll need patience. The minimal dialogue, the stillness—it’s all part of the film’s DNA. It wants you to feel the weight of Nina’s world, the loneliness, the judgment. And while I get and respect that, I also found myself wishing for just a little more emotional access. A crack in the surface. Something.

Also, I would’ve loved more from the supporting cast. There’s rich potential there, especially with characters like her ex David (Kakha Kintsurashvili), but the film keeps them at arm’s length. It’s Nina’s story, yes, but digging deeper into the people around her could’ve added stronger emotional stakes.

That said, I admire the film’s guts. April doesn’t shy away from complicated moral territory. It asks tough questions about reproductive rights, medical ethics, and isolation—and it never hands you easy answers. The eerie, almost mythical creature wading through a lake that pops up now and then? Yeah, that left me scratching my head but intrigued. Kulumbegashvili is clearly saying something symbolic there—maybe about Nina’s inner turmoil, maybe about societal judgment. Either way, it adds a strange texture I kind of loved.

April might not be explosive, but it’s quietly powerful. It’s a film about doing the right thing even when the world says you’re wrong. About carrying burdens silently. About being a woman who’s both needed and rejected. I didn’t love every second of it, but I respected the journey and the craft behind it. For that alone, I’d say it’s worth watching—especially for those who like their cinema meditative, layered, and bold.