I remember showing the trailer of one of Jivan Avetisyan’s films during my exhibition dedicated to Armenian cinema at New York University Abu Dhabi. Back then, I never thought I would have the honor and the privilege to sit down with this talented Armenian director to discuss his most recent projects and artistic trajectory. Avetisyan is an Armenian filmmaker born in Gyumri, raised in Stepanakert and an important name in the international cinema world. With successful films such as Tevanik, The Last Inhabitant, Gate to Heaven, Broken Childhood, Karabakh a Hidden Treasure and many others, Avetisyan has gained an international reputation. He was selected as a member of Berlinale Talents in 2020 and a member of the European Film Academy in 2024, one of the most prestigious film institutions in Europe.
Milena Baghdasaryan (M.B.): You had the concept for making Revival as early as 2018, and then the 2020 war broke out. Despite the tragic events of 2020, you continued with the film. How did you find the strength to continue making the film?
Jivan Avetisyan (J.A.): You’re right. In autumn 2018, we had already begun conceptualizing the film Revival, and by February 2019, during the European Film Market, the project had matured significantly. It was at that point that I began meeting with international producers. However, the film we envisioned in 2019 is very different from the one we have now. The 2020 war changed everything. The 2019 version depicted the events of the four-day war in 2016, but what we have now is dedicated to the 2020 war.
During the 2020 war, I joined the Artsakh TV team in Stepanakert, working alongside director Hrayr Avetisyan. I traveled to many places during the war — battlefields, hospitals, basements — and as I witnessed the unfolding tragedy, the script began to change in my mind. Each time I returned to the basement of the TV station, I took notes and shared my thoughts with the screenwriter, Narine Voskanyan. While we had the idea of incorporating the AI element in the film already in 2018, the 2020 war made me ponder how AI might perceive the war with its ‘smart’ eyes. During the war, I told myself that if I survived I would have to speak up and tell the world about these events. I survived, but we lost Artsakh.
After the war, we began revisiting and revising the script with screenwriters Narine Voskanyan and Monique Peterson, transforming the focus from 2016 to 2020. We also decided to incorporate extensive archival footage from journalists and TV channels with whom I documented the war.
The film endured many challenges along the way. As for finding the strength to continue, I must confess that since the events of 2020, I wake up every morning feeling shattered. But then, I remind myself that I must act, I must make a change, I must achieve the impossible. I draw strength from the belief that the situation we face now is temporary. I know it won’t be easy — we’ve lost irreplaceable things, such as human lives — but we must turn the wheel of history. Life loses its meaning if I do nothing to make a change. We all owe a debt to those who sacrificed their lives for us.
Making Revival was incredibly difficult. My international friends and colleagues often asked how I managed to overcome all the obstacles. My answer was simple: I want to return home. I can never forget the eyes of the young people standing on the border as we returned to the shelter at the TV station. I don’t know if those eyes are still alive or if they’ve taken the path of the eternal. What I’m doing is so small compared to what they have done. I carry a profound sense of indebtedness. I can’t accept the current reality; I can’t settle for just memories.
Sometimes, my thoughts drift back to my grandfather’s village, Khachmach, and I long for it deeply. I miss sitting on the bench under the grapevine, watching the sun set behind the mountain horizons. All of this fuels my drive to keep creating. With Revival, I wanted to make a difference through my existence and my art.
M.B.: You were in many dangerous places during the 2020 war and encountered numerous life-threatening situations. How have these experiences shaped your artistic vision and signature? Would you still be willing to put yourself in such dangerous conditions for the sake of making a film if that film was not related to our homeland?
J.A.: I often ask myself, how far can I climb? How many awards can I win? How far can I go? Even if I were to win an Oscar, it wouldn’t be enough. My true aspiration is to reach the height of Mount Ararat — 5,165 steps…For me, that’s the highest point in the entire world. I always say that even if I had all the awards in the world but didn’t have Ararat, I would have nothing. Ararat is more than just a mountain; it’s a philosophical and metaphorical symbol for me. It embodies not just Ararat itself but also Artsakh and many other things that hold deep meaning for our nation. If you have those, nothing else matters. I wanted my film to serve a higher purpose.
I also don’t want you to think that I’ve endured the worst possible conditions. Yes, I’ve been in many dangerous situations, but there are others who have faced far worse. I wouldn’t willingly put myself in someone else’s war — not because I value my life too much, but because I want to focus on themes that are personally important to me and to my people. Of course, I feel deeply for those affected by other wars around the world. To me, war is the worst creation of humanity — it destroys not only physically but also morally. In war, a person is forced to choose whether to remain human or to transform into something else entirely.
But still, I wouldn’t make a film about other wars. I do not consider myself a wartime journalist. I wanted to create a film that would compel people of all ages, nationalities and backgrounds to witness what happened in Artsakh in 2020.
I wanted to speak out through my film, because one of the reasons we find ourselves in this situation is that we haven’t spoken enough about Artsakh. We’ve only whispered a drop of water from an entire ocean when we should have been flooding it with our voices.
Many of the political scenarios and situations we see in the world today were discussed in films five to 10 years ago. Films are powerful mediums that prepare audiences for realities yet to come. Unfortunately, we haven’t fully utilized this medium to its potential.
M.B.: Artsakh is a recurring theme in your films. What’s the main message that you try to convey through your films, and is the message of Revival different from the message of your previous films, if we take into consideration the difficult current reality where Artsakh is, at least temporarily, not ours anymore?
J.A.: I speak about themes and topics that disturb my peace. The three films I created before the war — I wish I had made six, eight, 10 or even more. While all my films center on Artsakh, each of them is different in message and approach. Revival explores the theme of Artsakh from a unique perspective. It examines the events through a journalistic lens, using AI to reveal how the world perceived and reported on the conflict. Many international media outlets framed the events as though Armenia had initiated the war, and the film delves into this wave of disinformation while also trying to debunk it. At the same time, it shows what was happening across various European countries at that time, highlighting the interconnectedness of the events.
In the film, AI evolves to the point where it begins to empathize and care for the human beings who created it, as it witnesses banned weapons being used by the Azeris on the battlefield to destroy Armenians.
My other feature film, Angels 2020, is dedicated to the doctors who risked their lives to save others during the war. What these doctors did from the very early days of the conflict was nothing short of heroic. I spoke with over 40 doctors who were involved in the 2020 events. We had sincere, open conversations, and I must confess that each of their stories could be a film in itself. So, I aimed to create a film that captures the collective image of these Armenian doctors, honoring their sacrifices and ensuring that their contributions are remembered.
M.B.: When watching the teaser of your film, I recognized many familiar, locally and internationally renowned faces. What do you pay attention to when choosing the actors for your films?
J.A.: I never hold traditional casting sessions. Instead, I watch films, and observe actors’ performances, and only after thoroughly understanding their work do I decide if a particular actor fits a role. This was the case with Armand Assante, and also with Maia Morgenstern, who played the mother of Jesus in Mel Gibson’s The Passion of the Christ. Once I’ve chosen an actor, I present the script to them, aiming to make them fall in love with the story, to see themselves as part of it. Actors of such caliber and reputation receive countless great offers, and money alone isn’t enough to attract them. The story needs to resonate with them on a deeper level, something more valuable and important than just a paycheck.
I’m always confident in my scripts. Often, actors and producers respond with amazement, asking, “Is this a real story? Did this really happen on our planet?” or saying, “This is insanity — I want to be part of this story.” My collaborations with internationally renowned actors rely solely on the strength of the story. Interestingly, we often become very close friends through this process. There’s a unique connection that forms between us, one that I find difficult to explain. I’m not sure how common this is with other directors, but it has happened frequently to me.
Some of the actors and producers I work with initially know nothing about the Artsakh conflict, so I take the time to explain it to them, starting from the historical roots so they can fully grasp its significance. Occasionally, actors are hesitant to participate in my Artsakh-related films, fearing repercussions from their own governments or potential backlash from the Azerbaijani side. I am transparent with them, warning them that they might even end up on Azerbaijan’s infamous blacklist.
The experience and positive reputation we’ve built over the years have been crucial in convincing internationally acclaimed actors to join our projects. We always see our projects through to completion, ensuring they reach their full potential. Our films have been sold to AMC Theatres, HBO Europe and numerous other international broadcasters and streaming platforms across Europe, the U.S. and beyond. We constantly strive for excellence and better results.
M.B.: Revival features not only Armenian but also American, German and Romanian actors. How do you manage to establish a healthy relationship between actors of different nationalities on set, and how do you overcome the linguistic and cultural barriers?
J.A.: I’m not entirely sure how we’ve managed, but you’re right — we have. I strive to convey my thoughts, feelings, wishes and emotions to the actors. I try to spread what I feel to my team, like a virus. I spend a lot of time talking and engaging with them. Getting to know my actors, spending time together, and sharing my thoughts with them is one of my favorite phases of the filmmaking process. I aim to make the role mature in their minds, like a fruit that’s fully ripe and ready to fall from the tree at the slightest touch. You have to bring your actor to that level.
When I write the script, I already have an idea of which actor would be perfect for each role. I know their character, their mannerisms, their behavior. During our in-person or online meetings, I use the opportunity to clarify and refine my understanding. This process is crucial in ensuring that the role becomes a natural extension of the actor, allowing them to fully embody the character.
M.B.: What advice do you have for young Armenian filmmakers?
J.A.: I often meet with students and always ask them, “What have you done today for your project?” You need to keep going and never give up. I’m now sharing my own experience, and my own journey, rather than offering textbook advice or quoting other filmmakers. My path has been challenging and filled with obstacles — from financial struggles to countless other issues. One day, I made the decision to leave my job at the TV station, to give up the security of a fixed salary and to dedicate myself entirely to filmmaking. Despite all the difficulties, I made it to the Marché du Film, Cannes Festival. I remember my wife telling me this year how at ease I seemed at Cannes, as if I was working in Armenia.
It’s a great feeling to know you’re part of the big boat on the ocean — it requires a lot of effort, but it’s worth it. Tens of thousands of films are made each year, but only a few make it to the major festivals, and only a few carve out a name for themselves. My target is the international film market and audience, since I need to make my voice heard, to tell my story and the story of my people to the world.
Making films is hard, very hard, but I did it, and if I did it, you can too. I wasn’t special in any way — I didn’t have big financial resources or industry connections. I created my own path from scratch. I was just stubborn; I didn’t give up, I didn’t quit. You have to be stubborn to make a film, whether you’re in Armenia or abroad. The market is vast, and the competition is fierce, but if I could do it, you can do it too! Be stubborn and tell your story!
If you would like to support Jivan Avetisyan’s newest project, Angels 2020, please visit reArmenia, Invest in AM or Opensea.
Milena Baghdasaryan
Latest posts by Milena Baghdasaryan (see all)
- Armenia and the UAE: Opportunity or missed potential? - January 7, 2025
- Meet Araksya Melikyan, 2024 Best Actress award winner - December 10, 2024
- “Dear Mountains”: Interview with Karen Ouzounian and Lembit Beecher - November 25, 2024
Be the first to comment