As a Georgian, I’ve never been more proud to say it than when I watch The Lullaby (Iavnana) over and over again like it’s some kind of spell I can’t break.
I first watched this when I was little, too young to really get it, but even then, something about it stayed with me. Especially that song Iavnana my mother used to sing it to me when I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what it meant back then, not really. But it made me feel safe. And now It makes me cry without fail. Every. Single. Time.
The mother, Keto, the spaces between them. you feel all the love that doesn’t get said out loud. You feel the grief in the silence, the weight in the glances.
This film holds Georgian pain, beauty, memory, and pride in one breath. It smells like old furniture and wildflowers, it sounds like the wind in Kakheti and the lullabies of generations. I know that sounds dramatic, but if you’re georgian you’ll get it. And if you’re not? Watch it anyway. It’ll still break your heart open in the best way.
For the past two years, I’ve watched this like a person looking for a missing piece. And maybe I found it in this film. Or maybe I just keep watching because it reminds me of my mother. Of being held as a child with nothing to think or worry. Of hearing Iavnana and thinking , maybe everything will be okay.
If you’ve ever loved someone, lost someone, miss your childhood or tried to remember something you were never told you owe it to yourself to watch The Lullaby. Not just as a film. But as a feeling.
As a Georgian, I’ve never been more proud to say it than when I watch The Lullaby (Iavnana) over and over again like it’s some kind of spell I can’t break.
I first watched this when I was little, too young to really get it, but even then, something about it stayed with me. Especially that song Iavnana my mother used to sing it to me when I couldn’t sleep. I didn’t know what it meant back then, not really. But it made me feel safe. And now It makes me cry without fail. Every. Single. Time.
The mother, Keto, the spaces between them. you feel all the love that doesn’t get said out loud. You feel the grief in the silence, the weight in the glances.
This film holds Georgian pain, beauty, memory, and pride in one breath. It smells like old furniture and wildflowers, it sounds like the wind in Kakheti and the lullabies of generations. I know that sounds dramatic, but if you’re georgian you’ll get it. And if you’re not? Watch it anyway. It’ll still break your heart open in the best way.
For the past two years, I’ve watched this like a person looking for a missing piece. And maybe I found it in this film. Or maybe I just keep watching because it reminds me of my mother. Of being held as a child with nothing to think or worry. Of hearing Iavnana and thinking , maybe everything will be okay.
If you’ve ever loved someone, lost someone, miss your childhood or tried to remember something you were never told you owe it to yourself to watch The Lullaby. Not just as a film. But as a feeling.
