“Impressively cohesive in both story and structure.”

It has often been said that teaching is the one profession that makes all others possible. Most of us can probably recall at least one teacher who made a profound difference in our lives by leaving a lasting impression, whether good or bad. For the protagonist of Mugalim, the poignant directorial debut of Ayana Nurdinova, the former is certainly the focus. The story is set in Balkhash, a small lakeside town in Kazakhstan, and follows Zhandos, a humble but deeply lonely young man who works as a music teacher at a local elementary school. When he is not teaching his students about the beauty of art and the importance of self-expression, he is reminiscing about the time when he seemed poised to become a major musical star before life got in the way. It’s at the top of his mind in recent days after he learns that there may be an opportunity to leave his hometown behind and pursue his ambitions, trying to balance a sincere love for his profession with a desire to be the artist he has always aspired to be. A poetic film that builds on its strong foundation of reliable emotions and meaningful discussions of profound themes, Mugalim is impressively cohesive in both story and structure, finding new methods to comment on ideas with which we are all familiar in one way or another.

In the Kazakh language “mugalim” is translated as “the teacher”, and while it more commonly refers to those who work in formal education, there is obviously a deeper meaning when we apply it to a slightly broader set of ideas. This is what Nurdinova does through this film, presenting us with a complex protagonist who has chosen a career working closely with children to help them grow into valuable and functioning members of society. Zhandos uses both the required syllabus and additional lessons that are not mandated, but rather come from his desire to set them on the right path. Much of this emerges from his own process of self-reflection, in which he’s trying to make a nearly impossible decision: should he take the opportunity to chase a dream, at the expense of leaving behind the students who have shaped his life in ways that he only begins to recognise through the process of pondering his place in the world? While it may sound like the clichéd tactic of inverting the dynamic between Zhandos and his students, where these children prove to be his teachers, the director keeps everything consistent and meaningful. She is massively assisted by Oljas Dalelkhan, whose performance as the protagonist brims with a fascinating blend of charm and melancholy. He anchors the film and allows it to build itself around his wonderful work in interpreting this complex character, who is facing a very difficult decision, where both options come with an equal share of merits and potential shortcomings.

When handling a subject that could easily tip over into melodrama, it takes quite a bit of effort to keep everything in order, requiring a constant tempering of emotions so that it comes across as not only authentic but also deeply meaningful. Mugalim is a solid example of this in practice, with Nurdinova approaching the themes with the kind of emotional honesty and deep restraint that many filmmakers take several attempts to actually master. A large part of this comes in the tone, which moves between a traditional drama and something influenced by magical realism, with brief diversions into moments of abstraction peppered throughout, done to amplify the protagonist’s attempts to make sense of a difficult situation. Considering how it is relatively conventional in terms of the story being told, Mugalim relies primarily on its soulful exploration of the dynamic between Zhandos and other characters (not only his students, but various people in his orbit, all of whom provide both guidance and hindrance in their own way) to add meaning to the narrative, which is part of what makes it such an emotionally resonant and compelling piece of filmmaking. Nurdinova knows exactly how to represent the intricate nuances of this story without becoming too heavy-handed, finding beauty in the simplicity and focusing on those elements that push the narrative further, all of which creates a quietly devastating film that is far less straightforward in its intentions than we would initially expect.

At first, Mugalim seems like a relatively conventional, by-the-numbers drama about a young man who is trying to make good on his promise to give the children under his care a formal education, and also prepare them for the future as best he can. However, as the film progresses and we see the layers slowly being peeled away, it becomes clear that Nurdinova has much deeper intentions for this story: a fascinating and deeply moving character study. You do not need to be a teacher to appreciate what this film is saying about education in its different forms, since there is something universal about what the director is communicating here. The film allows us to observe someone undergoing a minor crisis of identity, wondering whether he has made the right choice, and deciding whether to take an opportunity that may get him closer to his dream, but at the cost of something that may be even more valuable and important to him. Many of us spend our time trying to find our life’s purpose, stuck in a daily routine that can sometimes be quite frustrating. However, as we see in Mugalim, there can be beauty beneath the banality, especially when it comes to addressing the often thorny and uncomfortable nature of a past in which all hopes and ambitions have seemingly been exiled. It’s a tender and moving portrait of the human condition in its most complex and meaningful form, handcrafted by a director whose attention to detail and deep emotional sincerity create this charming and affecting drama that is as intimate as it is beautiful.