Let­ters to Max

Set against the dis­as­so­ci­at­ed voice of Max­im Gvin­jia – the epony­mous Max – this por­trait of the ter­ri­to­ry which was once attached to Geor­gia is the lat­est film by direc­tor Eric Baude­laire. Abk­hazia is recog­nised by only a hand­ful of coun­tries fol­low­ing a pro­tract­ed war with their for­mer rulers, and Let­ters to Max doc­u­ments its strug­gle to become a nation state.

Max is the for­mer For­eign Min­is­ter of Abk­hazia, and as such has a unique insight into its short his­to­ry. The pleas­ing­ly philo­soph­i­cal politician’s voice dom­i­nates the sound­track as he responds to the short, unequiv­o­cal let­ters sent to him from Paris by Baude­laire. The endear­ing rela­tion­ship begins with Baude­laire send­ing (what he believes to be) an impos­si­ble let­ter to a coun­try which, in the eyes of France, doesn’t exist.

Max is sur­pris­ing­ly can­did in his respons­es, cre­at­ing an easy atmos­phere that con­trasts with the some­times bleak imagery accom­pa­ny­ing his nar­ra­tion. He hap­pi­ly records his own fail­ings and tri­umphs for pos­ter­i­ty, and through their cor­re­spon­dence, a clear pic­ture of a coun­try in flux aris­es. (Recog­nised by their imme­di­ate neigh­bours but oth­er­wise locked out of Europe, rely­ing on Rus­sia alone for trade and tourism, Abk­hazia is striv­ing for more uni­ver­sal acknowledgment.)

Baudelaire’s let­ters appear, unspo­ken, as text on the screen while the unob­tru­sive film­ing style cap­tures images of every­day life: peo­ple danc­ing; school­books tied up in cor­ri­dors; once opu­lent hous­es now returned to nature; the dev­as­ta­tion of war still very much appar­ent. The judi­cious use of silence is over­whelm­ing, forc­ing focus onto the images of a nation nos­tal­gic for the rule of the Sovi­et Union. Max appears in the visu­al aspect of the film but remains silent, or with­out sub­ti­tles, as with most of the oth­er native Abk­hazians. The focus is entire­ly on Max’s author­i­ta­tive voice, express­ing opin­ions and expe­ri­ence of the new state, gov­ern­ment and war.

This leads to a sin­gle-mind­ed nar­ra­tive in which Abkhazia’s tri­umph and free­dom from oppres­sion is cham­pi­oned. It is only in the clos­ing stages of the film that the issue of dis­placed Geor­gians is brought to the fore; while Max express­es lim­it­ed sym­pa­thy, the refugees’ voic­es remain unheard. While not with­out its rough edges, Let­ters to Max is a beau­ti­ful and enlight­en­ing por­trait of an all but for­got­ten cor­ner of East­ern Europe.