THE PATCHWORK

As its title intimates, Rustem Abdrašov’s THE PATCHWORK is a tapestry of contemporary life in Kazakhstan. The critic Gulnara Abikeyeva has likened the film to some kind of riposte to BORAT. Although the potential for comedy remains throughout the film, Abdrašov likes his characters too much to ridicule them (with the possible exception of a local oligarch and the odd drunk).
Within the rich mosaic, an old man is unable to come to terms with his ageing bird of prey, no longer capable of hunting. A young boy faces his coming of age and the circumcision that awaits him. A man decides to go to China to find a herbal cure for his dying grandmother. A man ponders over the slaughter of his only pig and an archeologist desperately searches for physical links to the past. Together, these stories unfold against a stunning, mountainous backdrop and across various seasons.
In tone and theme, Abdrašov’s film falls back on scabrous and scatological humour. However, it also has lighter, more innocent moments. In one scene, as a sure-fire money-making ploy, one of the characters decides to paint a mule so that it resembles a zebra, and attracts passing trade with the offer of a photo next to such an exotic animal. Abdrašov plays this sequence perfectly against darker moments in the film.
With its crisp cinematography, impressive performances and an eccentric score dominated by a mouth harp, THE PATCHWORK is a wryfully engaging film.