An introduction to Gondola
Notes from an introduction to Gondola (Helmer 2023) by Dr Jonathan Williams at our screening in April 2025.
Our screening tonight is of the 2023 film Gondola, from German writer and director Veit Helmer. Gondola was nominated for best film at Tokyo International Film Festival in 2023 and was a centrepiece film at last year’s Melbourne Queer Film Festival. It’s also been nominated for and won a handful of other minor international awards. The score is by UK-born, German-based composer Malcolm Arison and Icelandic multi-instrumentalist and singer-songwriter Sóley. It was filmed on a small budget and with a very small crew due to the pandemic.
I’m going to intersperse this talk with some questions that you might like to think about while you’re watching, or discuss afterwards - or at our film chat on Saturday if you can come along.
Summary
Gondola is set in the mountains of western Georgia. Iva (played by Mathilde Irrmann) is new in town - although it seems she might be a returnee, we don’t get much backstory as to why she’s there. The old cable car attendant (possibly her father or grandfater) has died, so she heads to the office to apply for the suddenly vacant position. She meets Nina (Nino Soselia), her fellow attendant, and the simple story of their friendship and budding romantic relationship goes from there. Iva and Nina interact with each other in seconds-long moments as their gondolas pass in midair above the precipitous valley walls. In many ways, it’s an extended metaphor for all our lives, where we pass each other in our own bubbles, at the timetables and whims of external forces, needing to make a real effort if we are to connect at all.
No spoken dialogue
The film is shot entirely without spoken dialogue (although there’s one “OK” in there - listen out!). This is actually a long-running experiment or stylistic choice from Veit Helmer. Three of his previous features - Tuvalu (1999), Absurdistan (2008) and The Bra (2018) - all have minimal spoken dialogue, as do many of his short films. Helmer argues that this style increases audience concentration and participation, “because you can't watch a film [like this] and be ironing at the same time.” He also mentioned his unique challenges and freedoms in casting: casting directors often aren’t sure what he needs from an actor, but the lack of spoken lines allows him to cast very internationally. I’d also argue that filming without dialogue is a savvy choice for films that will probably get most traction on the festival circuit (rather than through theatrical releases) as it makes them very accessible for international audiences.
Questions: How does the lack of dialogue affect your interaction with this film? How might it have been different if there was spoken dialogue in Georgian (as per the setting and one lead), German (where the director is from), French (like the other lead) or even English?
Location & time
Veit Helmer has said he chose to set the film in Georgia simply because he liked the kinds of cable cars they have. The gondolas in question certainly are picturesque in a former-Soviet-era way - although I have questions about whether the cars really could stand the breadth and weight of the modifications Iva and Nina make to them over the course of the film! I also don’t think you can watch this film and not come away believing that the mountain landscape must have influenced Helmer’s choice to film there, too. There are many lingering shots of the setting, softly swirling clouds and scattered villages - the overall scale dwarfing the tiny gondolas as they slowly travel across the sky.
Thinking about the location brings up questions about the story’s temporal setting, too - what era is it set in? The film feels almost ahistorical, with a mix of contemporary, mid-century and pre-modern elements. One idea I had was that the villain of the story, the gondola boss, is given the most contemporary and also capitalist trappings: a tracksuit, a position of authority to bestow or withhold payment to his workers, and the means to afford a pretty up-to-date car (possibly the only one in the whole film). I wonder if that’s a political comment? The two leads seem to embody an era of mid-century European film glamour, with their neat uniforms, silent film-like hijinks and good life picnics. Even Nina’s dreams of working as airline cabin crew feels nostalgic. Meanwhile, the villagers below the gondola look like they could have been pulled from almost any time in the last few hundred years. This all creates a slippery timelessness that heightens the sense of this being a fable or fairytale.
Real history vs ahistoric fantasy
The sweet story of this film’s central relationship, the apparent lack of homophobia in the community, the gorgeous landscapes and quirky gondolas might make you want to pack your bags and head off on holiday! But it’s worth remembering that this fairytale setting has a tumultuous political history - and is also a pretty dicey place to live for queer people.
Today, Georgia shares borders with Turkiye, Armenia, Azerbaijan and Russia. It’s been been part of the Russian Empire, had a brief stint as the Democratic Republic of Georgia, went to war with Armenia, spent 70 years incorporated into the USSR, gained independence, had a civil war, drew international attention during the Rose Revolution (a nonviolent change of power in 2003), was declined EU member status in 2022 then granted it in 2023 in the shadow of Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.
Georgia’s record in the area of queer rights is extremely patchy. Georgia is one of the few post-Soviet states that technically protects people against discrimination based on sexuality, but it does not allow marriage or civil partnerships between partners of the same sex. In 2008, trans people were allowed to change their official gender markers in some instances. However, queerness is generally frowned upon - perhaps unsurprising, given that the country’s value system is underpinned by Orthodox Christianity. A 2021 study showed that 84% of Georgians believe that sexual relationships between two adults of the same sex are always wrong (the highest score in Europe). In 2024, parliament passed a bill which sought to remove many protections for queer people and banned queer “propaganda". (Something you might remember from Section 28 and Blue Jean last year!)
It’s debatable whether these contexts are addressed in Gondola. On the ground, life could be considered pretty bleak, but the film creates a fantasy that sails high above any complications of real life, like the cable cars soar above the valleys.
Questions: Could Gondola be a political statement that challenges Georgia’s homophobia and incorporates a glimpse into lives of rural poverty - or is stubbornly apolitical? What do you think of the ethics of films that use a place as a setting without engaging with the real contexts?
Pace, sound, metaphor
The slow pace of the film allows us to experience a kind of viewership that is extremely rare in mainstream cinema with its tight story lines, action sequences, intricate interpersonal dramas and heightened emotional impact. It gives us as an audience a lot of space to pay attention to the visuals and the soundscape: the whistling of wind, the serenades and duets, the wine glass music, the soundtrack - and the music in the sounds of everyday life.
One recurring motif is the grinding and clunking of the gondola machinery as the system finishes its trip one way, pauses, then reverses. Through constant repetition this heavy, continuous rolling eventually starts to create an almost oppressive rhythm under the lighthearted, sugary plot, sub-plot and feel-good vignettes. To me, this feels tied to the manager’s controlling nature over the two attendants - and also in a meta way, to the tight control of the director over the characters, especially the restriction he’s put on them to never speak on screen. While the women make the best of their situation, and while the gondola itself is a romantic image, Iva and Nina are still trapped by the back-and-forth of the cable car machinery - just as the film is trapped by its own limitations. So when the climax comes (no spoilers here!) it’s almost as though that cut is what allows the characters to escape the central conceit of the film.
Final questions: Given that the plot is so simple and could almost be a short film, why do you think the director chose to make it a feature? What does that extra time enable in the story, on the screen, and in you as a viewer?
I hope you enjoy the film!
Further reading
Gondola: Tokyo Review - Wendy Ide, Screen Daily, 23 Oct 2023
Review: Gondola - Fabien Lemercier, Cineuropa, 6 Nov 2023
Gondola [review] - Jennie Kermode, Eye for Film - 23 Jun 2024
Veit Helmer, Director of Gondola [interview] - Alfonso Rivera, Cineuropa, 24 Jun 2024
Meet the filmmakers! Director Veit Helmer of Gondola [video] - Galway Film Fleadh, 5 Jul 2024
Queer Screen Film Fest 2024 Review: Gondola ★★★★ - Chad Armstrong, The Queer Review, 13 Aug 2024
Gondola [review] - WLW Film Reviews - 01 Apr 2025