Wet Sand review – a sombre hymn to identity and self-acceptance

Cathartic, with a mellow ache, Wet Sand is a brooding drama of loss and discovery where grief births new understanding. Elene Naveriani’s sophomore feature is the universal tale of negotiating the cost of true self in a climate that condemns one’s identity, made specific through Georgian socio-political contexts and a private revelation of family belonging.

While Levan Akin’s And Then We Danced set the stage for LGBTQ+ cinema in modern-day Georgia, Wet Sand takes a similarly thoughtful approach but redirects attention from Tbilisi to a small coastal village where gossip spreads like wildfire. Moe (Bebe Sesitashvili) arrives at the sombre shores from Georgia’s capital at the news of her grandfather’s death. The purpose of her visit is to arrange his funeral but she finds herself untangling the hidden threads of a 22-year relationship between her grandfather and another man, Amnon (Gia Agumava).

With her contemporary perspectives and boyish looks, Moe is gawked at by the village’s aged population whose non-progressive values perfume the air and leave her and fellow pariahs choking. Gleaming sunlight and the rhythmic soundtrack of ocean waves suggest an idyllic holiday affair and yet Naveriani’s quiet filmmaking style shatters this perception with the confrontation of omnipresent and inescapable homophobia. “You aren’t a family… you’re a plague,” spits one of the men, disgusted at the possibility of gay people living amongst them. Agnesh Pakozdi’s cinematography counters this overwhelming claustrophobia with expansive shots that see queer characters existing in their own frames. The visual isolation grants the likes of Moe and Amnon a freedom that this village community otherwise refuses.

Sesitashvili’s quietly mesmerising performance is also where Naveriani’s deliberately pared back lens lingers. Similarly, Agumava’s turn as the mourning lover is powerfully moving; bottled up emotions threaten to spill over and in laying his lover to rest those buried feelings are exhumed. The inner lives of these core characters are slowly revealed with pregnant pauses to accentuate the potent dialogue. Although this leads to the same crawling pace as the residents' movements, the sentiment underlying Wet Sand proves ultimately rousing.

Contemporary Georgian cinema is having quite the moment. This sombre hymn to identity and self-acceptance in a deeply conservative community is a resoundingly restrained – but nevertheless lyrical – drama, another urgent tale of queer life from a country with plenty to tell.

Wet Sand was screened as part of the BFI Flare Film Festival 2022. A UK release date is yet to be announced.