Dry Leaf

Acclaimed filmmaker Alexandre Koberidze’s latest lo-fi (and lo-res) peculiarity takes its name from a football shooting technique in which the ball briefly floats through the air before dropping back down in an unexpected way. A perfect metaphor for this ethereal road trip that stretches time, bends space, and gently reshapes your perception of beauty and ugliness.

Lisa, a photographer documenting abandoned football fields in the Georgian countryside, has gone missing. Her father Irakli—played by Koberidze’s own father—sets out to find her, accompanied by Levani, Lisa’s mysterious (and invisible) boyfriend. Together they wander through the lush Caucasus landscape, where animals and villagers—both visible and unseen—cross their path.

Koberidze (WHAT DO WE SEE WHEN WE LOOK AT THE SKY?) shot this hypnotic odyssey on an old Sony Ericsson cell phone, but in his hands the grainy pixels take on a painterly glow, recalling the brushstrokes of Cézanne and Monet. The images are carried by a spellbinding score from Giorgi Koberidze, the director’s brother, making DRY LEAF both an intimate family project and a radical meditation on disappearing, letting go, and the pleasures of being on the road—in the spirit of Abbas Kiarostami.