The Color of Pomegranates (1969) – Review

First Impressions and Finding the Film

I went into The Color of Pomegranates with some hesitation. It was another late night, lights off, and I found it while searching for something similar to The Holy Mountain and On the Silver Globe. The title had me intrigued—pomegranates, a fruit that hints at something fresh, maybe even bloody.

It wasn’t easy to track down, but I managed to find a copy from the BFI on Amazon. Before the film even starts, there’s a note about two versions being restored—Parajanov’s cut, using the original camera negative by Gosfilmofund in Russia. With that setup, I was ready to dive in.

Visually Striking but Challenging

The film opens with striking visuals—chaotic, repetitive, and minimalist at times. There’s a scene with dying fish, suffocating, which sets the tone pretty quickly. The whole thing feels more like recorded theatre, almost like a silent movie with overdubbed sounds. But it’s not really about the technical quality—it’s more of a visual piece of art. Each scene feels like a meticulously crafted photo, meant to communicate something through the image alone.

This is not your typical narrative-driven film. It’s abstract, experimental, and demands patience. Some critics call it "visceral and immersive," and I get that. There’s a deeper connection here, maybe because of the themes or the heavy use of abstract imagery, but you’ve got to work for it.

Sayat Nova and Cultural Context

A lot of people highlight the cultural significance of Sayat Nova, the Armenian poet and troubadour the film is based on. Without any prior context on him, though, this could be a bit of a challenge to watch. I’ll admit I didn’t know much going in, but doing a bit of research after the fact helped. The film’s use of Armenian culture and history comes through in strange, powerful visuals, but I was definitely lost at times.

Abstract Symbolism and Performance Art

There’s a lot of symbolism here—water, pendulums, life stages—things that feel important but aren’t immediately clear. At times, it feels like performance art on film. It’s easy to see why people describe it as avant-garde and rebellious, especially for the Soviet era. The film doesn’t follow a conventional structure, and the non-linear storytelling can be disorienting.

There’s a quote from the film that stuck with me: “In this healthy and beautiful life, only I have been made to suffer.” That’s kind of how it feels to watch this film—it requires a patience that might test you, but the visuals are strong enough to keep you going.

Visual Piece Over Narrative

I’d say The Color of Pomegranates is more of a visual piece than a narrative film. Each scene feels like an art exhibit—a series of tableaus or paintings, rather than a story unfolding. The film works more like a meditation on Sayat Nova’s life and themes of life, death, faith, love, and identity. It’s minimalist, but it communicates emotionally, even when the meaning isn’t always clear.

Critics focus on the film’s symbolism and artistry, but I think Parajanov captures something more about how we remember things. Memories don’t come in clean, narrative-driven forms—they’re fragmented, raw, flashes of emotion, sound, and image. Watching this felt like being inside someone’s head, seeing their memories in disjointed bursts.

Patience and Perspective

At the end of the day, The Color of Pomegranates isn’t accessible in the traditional sense. It’s not an easy watch, and if you’re expecting something modern or straightforward, you’re going to struggle. But if you’re here for the artistic appeal and don’t mind the lack of action, it’s an experience worth having.

It’s bold, it’s experimental, and it challenges you to think differently about film. For me, it felt like watching a pantomime dream—something deeply personal and culturally significant, but also abstract enough to make you work for its meaning. And that, in itself, is what makes it worth watching.