‘Sunday’: Red Sea Review

Dir/scr: Shokir Kholikov. Uzbekistan. 2023. 97mins

An elderly Uzbek couple resist the forward march of modernity in Sunday, Shokir Kholikov’s impressive first feature which mines deadpan mirth from the couple’s conflicts with the next generation and each other. Ultimately, the film becomes less about the exasperations of old age as it deepens into a heartbreaking celebration of enduring love. The film’s lugubrious charm casts a beguiling spell and a healthy festival presence should ensue for a work that recently won the Shanghai IFF Asian New Talent Award.

A  quiet, touching drama

Shokir painstakingly establishes how much this couple are set in their ways. The unnamed man (Abdurakhmon Yusufaliyev) and his wife (Roza Piyazova) live far from the city. Their rickety, rarely-used car has seen better days and their crumbling house is in need of some TLC. Yet they seem perfectly content. The woman is long-suffering but retains a generous spirit (no visitor leaves without a watermelon to take with them) and while the man is often truculent, the two of them rub along in companionable silence. They have bread to eat, fresh water comes from a local stream, a cow provides milk, and sheep supply the wool that they dye and weave into technicolor carpets. They often sleep under the stars on a raised platform covered with blankets and pillows. Their needs are few and their demands even less. 

That, however, does not prevent their sons from trying to drag them into the 21st century. The unseen Jasur works abroad but has ambitious plans to tear down the family home and build a new one. The frantic, infrequent visits of their other son Botir (Nasrullo Nurov) are usually accompanied by a shiny new object in place of their tried and trusted cooker, television or telephone.

A good deal of the film’s dry humour comes from the inability of the couple to cope with new technology that inevitably leaves them worse off than before. Using a television remote seems beyond them, while the husband questions its purpose when he already has a wife to turn the channel for him. A running gag underlines their Luddite instincts, as every visitor is asked if they might have a spare match.

Beautifully shot by Diyor Ismatov, Sunday mainly unfolds around the couple’s house and courtyard. The space is almost a theatrical setting, the scene only intermittently interrupted by a visit from neighbours or Botir. Shokir favours static camera shots in which the action takes place within the frame. It is deliberately slow and meditative, designed to reflect the pace of life for the older couple and demanding that the viewer show a little patience.

The reward comes as we start to share the director’s fascination with his characters’ comforting rituals and routines. They cook, spin wool, prepare tubs of water for the dyeing process and generally fill their days. There is something about their perseverance that becomes heroic and, when one of them falls ill, the tender ministrations of the other is the only expression of love that is required. Roza Piyazova is particularly affecting as the hard-working, slightly doleful old woman who barely tolerates her husband’s never ending demands and haughty attitude. A roll of her eyes or a tilt of her head speaks volumes, but her affection still shines through.

The deadpan mien of Sunday is reminiscent of Kaurismaki and the theme of an old couple in their twilight years invites comparisons with classics like Ozu’s Tokyo Story or Leo McCarey’s Make Way For Tomorrow. The couple here are happy in the moment. When one of them remarks:“ We lived well, no matter what, didn’t we?”, it conveys the deeply felt emotions that run through this quiet, touching drama.