It was quite a notorious figure who once remarked that the easiest way to make a fortune is to start a religion. In the case of the inhabitants of a small mining town in Georgia, they discover an even more profitable way to become wealthy, which is the sudden discovery of a miner that has seemingly been mummified in a crucified position. Excavating his body, he is viewed as something of a saint, with many flocking to see his body, which in turn is handed between people since no one knows quite what to do with this individual other than hoping that there can be some explanation, even if it is a work of divine intervention. This very strange premise forms the foundation of Citizen Saint (Georgian: მოქალაქე წმინდანი), in which director Tinatin Kajrishvili takes several broad leaps in logic to create a daring and provocative dark comedy that dares to be different, even in ways that are not always the most sensible. An ambitious and essential voice in contemporary European cinema, Kajrishvili proves to be quite an intriguing director, her previous directorial efforts being scattered sporadically over the last decade, each one touching on some major issues that she finds simmering beneath the surface of her native country, and which she has once again repurposed into a striking and unforgettable film that carries an abundance of meaning, inviting the viewer to explore her version of reality, which is off-kilter and bizarre in ways that can sometimes be quite bewildering, if not entirely deranged in many ways. It’s not the most straightforward film, but it also never implies that it requires us to make sense of what is happening on screen, with every intricate detail being contrasted with a broader and more complex set of ideas that are both delightful and daunting to explore, which is ultimately all part of the film’s overall identity, and the reason it feels like such an unconventional marvel.

Ever since the dawn of artistic expression, religion has been a factor that influences many creative individuals and inspires their work, whether they intend to worship or express incredulity towards religion as a whole. Citizen Saint is yet another strong entry into this trend, and it proves to be one of the most scathing and unsettling depictions of faith we’ve seen in quite some time. Much of this comes from the fact that the director doesn’t ever make her position on the subject clear, so we aren’t entirely aware of where she stands in terms of the debate, and thus we are forced to draw our conclusions, which can be an unexpectedly difficult task when it comes to something as broad as religion. The film lays out a few facts from the start, but keeps the answers to many of the more important questions hidden for as long as possible, often refusing to outright resolve many of the curious loose ends until the last minute, after which time we have already likely decided on an interpretation of the film, which could either be supported by the concluding remarks, or fall apart entirely, the latter being far more likely based on the nature of the story being told. To its credit, Citizen Saint never once promotes itself as being the definitive work on any of its ideas, and we find ourselves becoming more confused by the film the further we try and unpack its intentions. Instead, we are asked to view it as an allegory for religion as not the source of comfort or spiritual guidance, but as a social phenomenon, a communal experience that sees people brought together under a shared belief, which can be viewed as either inspiring or deeply unsettling, which is directly correlated with how far they are willing to go to prove their belief and admiration for a particular subject, under the guise of showcasing their relentless faith. It’s a fascinating depiction of the darker side of religion, and while it isn’t traditionally controversial, there is still a sense of deep despair that governs this film and pushes it forward to the point of being quite unsettling.

Citizen Saint was filmed in the town of Chiatura, which likely does not appear by name in the film, but yet immediately captures our attention, since it has quite a peculiar appearance, one that evokes the concept of a ghost town, which seems entirely appropriate for the film being made. This isn’t only a work that intends to be a broad allegory on religion, but also a more expansive examination of Georgian culture, both past and present. It is set in an indeterminate place and time, and thus there isn’t much for us to go on when it comes to situating the film, which creates the illusion of this community being suspended in time, trapped in an endless cycle of existential despair, which is in turn momentarily interrupted with the arrival of their saint, who not only brings their small town some fame but also gives them something to distract from their everyday existence, which is decidedly more dull and lifeless than they were perhaps comfortable to admit. Citizen Saint is as much about belief as it a social satire, and the pitch-black humour contrasts with some of the hard-hitting narrative details, which creates a very peculiar experience, and one that is deeply enthralling and always very engaging, even at its most straightforward, which is quite rare but still a factor in the development of this film, which is far more detailed than we may initially expect, especially about the small, almost inconsequential details that push this story forward and make it such an incredibly layered work. We may not understand every reference or detail, and it was certainly made with broader intentions in mind that will likely speak to natives and those who are experts on socio-cultural matters in Georgia, but even for casual viewers, Citizen Saint manages to be far more captivating than we would expect, which is a credit not only to Kajrishvili for her extraordinary direction, but the entire team tasked with bringing this film to life.

While the story itself is compelling, what truly draws us into Citizen Saint is the style, and Kajrishvili proves to be quite a master of framing and composition since every moment of the film could be a painting. It is not traditionally beautiful in theory – a harrowing psychological drama set in a remote mining town, in which most of the action takes place in squalid homes and dust-covered mines is not a particularly appealing concept. However, the director set out to prove that any story can be striking and beautiful when the right amount of effort is put in, and we find that Kajrishvili approaches the visual aspects of the film with the same amount of dedication as the narrative. The cinematography, handled by the director of photography Krum Rodriguez, is filled to the brim with unforgettable images, and even the most haunting carry with them a sense of genuine beauty. It all serves to be the foundation for the underlying narrative, which conveys the sense of bleak existentialism, and the black-and-white photography underlines the monochromatic life these people lead, and how the complete lack of colour begins to erode our sanity in much the same way that their banal existence causes them to spiral into despair. There is a harshness in these images, a kind of stabbing sharpness that is difficult to overlook, with the jagged angles being reminiscent of the work of masters like Béla Tarr, who seemed to linger as quite a notable inspiration in this film, especially in how the images are used to demonstrate the cyclical monotony of these characters’ lives and how it slowly forces them to descend into madness as a result.

By the time we reach the final shot of Citizen Saint, every viewer is going to be more than likely asking the same questions, essentially around trying to figure out exactly what the film meant, and what it is being represented in this story as a whole. For what it is worth, this is a universal experience and one that the film acknowledges as being intentional, and there are very few moments where it feels entirely lucid or straightforward, which is precisely why the film is such a masterful examination of certain ideas, which are tenderly placed throughout the story and allowed to flourish in their peculiar ways. There’s a sense of genuine curiosity that pushes this film forward and makes it so incredibly captivating, and it only adds more credibility to the discussion around Georgia undergoing something of an artistic renaissance, a New Wave that has seen countless fantastic voices emerging and telling their stories, drawn from a country with a rich culture that has not been given the exposure it perhaps has deserved, which is finally being rectified. As a whole, Citizen Saint is a fascinating film – some of its ideas are a bit too abstract, and the viewer is always kept at arm’s length, which can prevent us from truly becoming invested in the development of the story – but the quick and concise nature of the storytelling, coupled with the unique sense of cynical humour and genuine curiosity, makes it a much more enthralling film than we may expect, and its nuances are truly unforgettable, being drawn from a place of genuine curiosity about some of the more indescribable elements of the human condition. It can be quite bewildering at times, but this is all part of the experience, and it is fair to say that anyone who walks about from Citizen Saint thoroughly confused is demonstrating the exact reaction intended by the filmmakers, who seem to be more than willing to forego logic for the sake of this challenging and provocative film.