‘Another Birth’ review: Lyrical Tajikistan drama sees a young girl search for a mythical creature

Dir/scr: Isabelle Kalandar. Tajikistan/US/Qatar. 2025. 66mins

The imagination of little Parastu (Shukrona Navruzbekova) blends with the melancholic reality of the adult world in this lyrical drama set against the backdrop of the Shakhdara Valley in southern Tajikistan. Taking its title from a collection of poems by Iranian Forugh Farrokhzad – to whose memory the film is also dedicated – its gossamer light plot is infused with Farrokhzad’s work in general and, most specifically, ’I Pity The Garden’ and ’Let Us Believe in the Dawn of the Cold Season’.

Quiet contemplation over plot development 

Premiering in Busan Competition, Another Birth is part of an intended ’On Exile’ trilogy from US-based Tajik filmmaker Isabelle Kalandar, to be followed by Still We Must Live and When Soft Voices Die. This drama is likely to find an audience with those who favour quiet contemplation over plot development and is elevated by careful framing and a strong sense of place. The prospect of further poetically-inclined films in the trilogy could also help it catch the attention of festival programmers.

In her poem ‘Age Seven’, Farrokhzad refers to that point of a child’s life as “a magnanimous moment of departure”. It seems an apt phrase for Parastu, who is about that age and who often peeps in on the adult world through windows or skylights. That perspective is emphasised by Janis Brod’s measured camerawork, which frequently adopts her point of view. One encounter, with a ‘wise man’ (Mamadmuso Mamadaliev) includes a delightful back and forth shot/reverse shot as the camera alternately peers up at him from the children’s perspective, and then down at the kids from his. When Parastu comes to believe that her ailing grandfather (Niezmamad Navruz Bekov) is pining away through sadness, she starts to hunt for a mythical Pari in the hopes that the fairy-like creature can help bring her long-absent father home.

This set-up provides a simple framework in which Kalandar – who also plays Parastu’s mother Parvin – can explore ideas of loss and yearning. Including large chunks of recited poetry in her film is a risk, as it makes these segments quite dense, although their rhythm has a hypnotic quality that some will find appealing. The dialogue, particularly from the children, is heavy and lacking the naturalism you might expect from this sort of setting and nonprofessional cast. Parastu, for example, tells her grandfather that “I won’t let you wither away from longing”, while another child at one point references “patricide”, before going on to explain what it means; decidedly weighty topics for the under 10s.

When it comes to striking visuals, however, the director has a good eye and she and Brod make excellent use of the natural light. It dances and flickers through Another Birth, from the dappled sunshine that falls on Parastu and her best friend Guliston (Shoira Abdulgaezkhonova) as they play outdoors, to the moonlight that gently shafts down on the bed Parastu shares with her mother.

Colour is also deftly deployed, with the bright yellow trousers of Parastu standing out against the brown and rocky environment. The film has a fable-like and mystical quality in general, enhanced by a tinkling element within the scoring from Noah K and Rosie K – perhaps more familiar to international audiences as members of US dream pop band Dollshot.

There’s an inherent sadness to Another Birth’s trajectory but Kalandar also captures the hopeful determination of her young protagonist. As mist blows across the water, or a milk jar tribute turns out to contain something unexpected, you may not fully believe in the existence of the Pari – but it certainly seems like a tantalising possibility.