“A very personal examination of cultural differences and where our place in the world is.”

In the not so distant past the remote Pankisi Valley of Northern Georgia, in the foothills of the Caucasus, was a place of refuge for Chechens fleeing the two wars in their home country just across the border. Many of director Déni Oumar Pitsaev’s family or ‘clan’ also found their home there; Pitsaev’s trajectory was different, ending in exile in France. When he is given some land in the valley, he sets a plan in motion to build a house and settle between the members of his extended family after being away from the region for years. But can he still settle in a part of the world he once called home, and what old scars will it rip open? This is the subject of Pitsaev’s debut feature-length documentary Imago, a very personal examination of not just cultural differences and where our place in the world is, but also the relationship between Pitsaev and his parents.

While enjoying the hospitality of his cousin Daoud, Pitsaev slowly embeds himself in life in the valley, speaking to both men and women, notably in separate conversations. Most of the valley’s population is Muslim, and most of the valley still thinks traditionally. The importance of faith is imprinted on him by local men, while in a conversation with a group of older women the subject of ‘freedom’ comes up. While Pitsaev doesn’t reveal too much about himself until late in the film, it is clear that he is a bit of a fish out of water here. Yet he tries to integrate, and lets both his parents, separated since Pitsaev’s birth, come over. His mom loves the idea, and already sees herself living in the valley with her son. When his father visits, together with Pitsaev’s half brothers and his stepmother, the family is less enamoured by the idea, especially once he shows them the architectural sketches for the house he intends to build (an elevated A-frame which, admittedly, would feel just as much out of place as Pitsaev himself does).

This leads to a lengthy one-on-one between Pitsaev and his father, which doesn’t really touch upon Pitsaev’s planned move, but is an honest and heartfelt conversation between the two men about a son feeling the lack of a father throughout his life, and especially in his time living in an under-siege Grozny with his mother. That was a time when he needed a dad most, but dad had left and built a life somewhere else. His father’s retorts are feeble, and the two can’t come to an understanding, but this conversation sows doubt in Pitsaev’s mind; is this the place where he can find that sense of belonging he has been looking for his whole life?

And thus Imago develops into something broader and more universal. Displacement is not uncommon in the region, or even beyond; just look at what is happening in Ukraine right now, or in Gaza. There are many like Pitsaev, forced to build up a life far from where they were rooted, longing to get back to those roots. In that sense the film is like an imago (the final stage of metamorphosis in insects) itself, as it morphs into a story that is universally applicable. It’s a neat transition from the personal to the universal, while retaining Pitsaev’s story at its heart. Unfortunately the film feels like it has no ending, as we rush to Pitsaev’s decision to sell the land after all, not truly able to find what he was looking for. But for a brief moment Imago soared in that lengthy conversation between two generations.