BAKU, Azerbaijan, October 14. Making traditional war movies will be difficult after the film "44".
This was stated by famous journalist Vyacheslav Sapunov in his post on Facebook following the grand premiere of the large-scale historical feature film "44," dedicated to the heroism of the Azerbaijani people during the Second Karabakh War, aimed at preserving historical memory and fostering patriotism among the younger generation, held at the Heydar Aliyev Center.
“The premiere of the feature film ‘44’ took place at the Heydar Aliyev Center. An extraordinary audience gathered in the hall: ministers, filmmakers, architects, musicians, writers, journalists, and many other prominent figures.
Films about the Karabakh War have been made here before. Perhaps not as many as one might wish, yet there have been worthy productions. However, ‘44’ is a unique, outstanding project. I cannot recall a war film of this scale ever being produced in Azerbaijan before.
First and foremost, the sheer volume of work accomplished is staggering. Five years of production, over 130 filming locations, and thousands of extras, including active-duty military personnel and special forces troops. The core team numbered 455 people, while specialists from 13 countries were brought in for various stages of production. The scale of this undertaking is hard to even imagine, though it is clearly visible on screen. Anar Alakbarov, the film’s artistic director, co-wrote the screenplay with Ismayil Iman. The film was directed by Ismail Safarali and Maxim Smetana.
The battle scenes are particularly impressive, featuring real tanks, armored vehicles, and weaponry, alongside numerous explosions and firefights. The production team had authentic military hardware at its disposal and worked with pyrotechnicians, stunt performers, and military consultants.
Sound designer Teymur Karimov deserves special praise. It seems he meticulously crafted every gunshot, explosion, footstep, rustle, and breath. At times, one instinctively flinches at the sound of gunfire, while during moments of quiet, one hears subtle sounds that heighten the tension even further.
Ruslan Aghababayev’s beautiful music, alternately lyrical, rapid, and poignant, weaves organically into the film’s symphony, unfailingly heightening the emotional impact of the action on screen.
And, of course, the cinematography by Alexander Pozdnyakov is superb: sweeping mountain panoramas, rapid camera movements during combat sequences (it seems there is hardly a single static shot in the entire film), beautiful cityscapes, and intimate close-ups of the actors. The footage shot on the cliffs near Jidir Duzu is particularly striking; the camera shifts seamlessly from capturing vast expanses to positioning itself right alongside the fighters as they scramble up the rocks under enemy fire.
At times, I had the uncanny sensation that I had already witnessed the events playing out on screen. Indeed, certain shots seemed to have stepped straight out of wartime documentary photographs I had seen in exhibitions, newspapers, or online, familiar angles, faces, scenes, and settings. Yet now, it all came to life and motion, filled with sounds and voices. You suddenly recognize what you had previously seen only in a still image, and this further reinforces the film’s historical authenticity.
Another remarkable touch by the filmmakers relates to the tragic events in Ganja. Do you remember little Bakhtiyar Heydarli, whose photograph circulated around the world in October 2020? The boy, his face bloodied after surviving a missile strike on a peaceful city, was smiling despite the pain and the horror he had endured. Well, this episode made it into the film as well. In the movie, the boy is named Aydin, but it was obvious to me that the character was based on that very same Bakhtiyar. And what a perfect choice for the young actor! He bears a striking resemblance to the child in the famous photograph.
Fortunately, the filmmakers also made room for scenes of everyday life. Characters fall in love, get married, quarrel, and await the return of their loved ones. Pre-war Baku is beautifully captured, featuring recognizable streets and stunning cityscapes. And the location shots outside the capital are magnificent: Lerik, wedding and funeral scenes, mountain landscapes, and the villages of Karabakh. Some shots are so beautifully filmed that one wants to linger over them.
The protagonist, special forces officer Rashad Khalilov, is played by Ibrahim Chingiz, an actor from the Azerbaijan State Academic Russian Drama Theatre. He delivers a wonderful performance. His Rashad is vibrant and charming, far removed from any glossy or idealized caricature. He feels authentic. The same goes for his love interest, the Turkish doctor Zeynep, played by Özge Gürel. They make a beautiful on-screen couple, with their emotions ringing completely true.
However, I would like to highlight two other performances in particular.
The first is by Gurban Ismayilov, who plays the father of one of the special forces soldiers, a native of Lerik. He has very few lines, yet his facial expressions and range of emotion are extraordinary. The scene involving the map, where the father marks the Azerbaijani settlements that have been liberated, is brilliantly conceived. At first, he tracks the progress of his son and his comrades-in-arms; later, he continues the task as the father of a martyr. In the final moment, he drives a red thumbtack into the map at the location of Shusha. The emotion with which he performs this act is unforgettable. Without uttering a single word, Gurban Ismayilov conveys such a depth of feeling that this brief scene leaves as lasting an impression as the most spectacular battle sequences.
Another standout performance comes from Hikmat Rahimov, who plays an Armenian sniper. He creates a truly chilling character, despite there being nothing outwardly demonic about his appearance. We see a man fanatically devoted to his cause, a selfless and skilled fighter ready to spare no one, not even his own compatriots, should they dare to acknowledge defeat.
The battles for Hadrut and, of course, Shusha make a powerful impression. The assault on Shusha is arguably the highlight of the film’s combat sequences. Special forces soldiers scale nearly sheer cliffs meter by meter from the direction of Dashalti, fight their way into the city, and engage in fierce combat. The battle scenes in Shusha are filmed on a breathtaking scale; at times, watching them is truly terrifying.
The soldiers feel authentic. They know how to fight, how to be friends, how to joke, and how to support one another. And, of course, they fear losing their comrades. These relationships are portrayed naturally, without unnecessary melodrama.
We all know the historical outcome, yet that does not detract in the slightest from the suspense of the two-and-a-half-hour film. Then comes the Victory Parade, footage that surely leaves no one unmoved. Following that, we see Neftchilar Avenue, where hundreds of servicemen march carrying portraits of their fallen comrades, our martyrs. Leading the procession is the President of Azerbaijan and Supreme Commander-in-Chief, Ilham Aliyev. It’s a deeply moving scene.
However, the premiere evening didn’t end there.
Before the screening, the film’s score was performed by a symphony orchestra and the State Choral Chapel. The musical prelude was accompanied by historical newsreel footage, and a palpable sense of emotion already filled the hall.
Then, after the film, something happened that perhaps no one had expected.
When the evening’s key figures were invited to the stage, the audience prepared to welcome the film crew, but the first to appear were the mothers of the martyrs. There were so many of them, more than a hundred. The mothers of our fallen warriors, the very people who made this Victory possible. It was impossible to listen to their words without being deeply moved; many in the audience did not attempt to hide their tears.
Following the on-screen battle scenes, the parade, and the stirring music, we found ourselves in the presence of women who had paid the ultimate price for Victory. And, in all likelihood, it's these very moments that will linger in our memories for a long time to come.
The film ‘44’ will undoubtedly go down in the history of Azerbaijani cinema. After this, it will be difficult to make war films in the old way; the filmmakers have demonstrated with such conviction what the genre is truly capable of.
I sincerely hope that this work does not remain a solitary achievement but marks the beginning of a new stage in our cinema, and that as many people as possible see the film, including audiences outside Azerbaijan,” the post noted.