Disco Inferno-shvili

To continue our recent streak of blog posts about Georgian musical culture, let's have a looksie at my favorite part of it-- the dancing! This post will be fortified, supplemented, and generally gooded by the presence of just a few of the 5,000 short video clips I've taken of traditional Georgian dances at various venues. It's further gooded by some shots of the Georgian national ballet. See if you can tell the difference.

Note that modifier-- TRADITIONAL Georgian dances. You might think this is like the reminder from the last post, where I condescendingly insisted that you realize that Georgians don't just listen to traditional music. Well, as on-point and obvious as that was, it's a little different in this situation. Yes, I have seen Georgians in Discoteca mode, and they generally dance like Americans do but in a less blatantly scandalous manner (although occasionally, the young folk will break it down like it's an Akon video). The difference, though, is that I don't think I've been to a Georgian dance party where they didn't bust out the moves of their Caucasian ancestors; it's probably not something they do in the debaucherous night clubs of Tbilisi, but of course I wouldn't think of going to those. No one ever invites me.

So braid your hair into four parts, stick a knife in your waistbelt, and come with me to a land of swirly skirts, acrobatics, and permanent knee damage.

The first thing I noticed about Georgian dance is that the boys get all the cool parts. The men jump around and spin on their knees, the women clap. The men fight with swords, the women drop their handkercheifs to stop the violence. The men create a human tower, the women get up on their toes and slowly circle in place. We could read into this, and we'd have a decent chance of making at least one or two apt observations, but then we'd be generalizing, and nobody likes that. Instead, let's make some wide, sweeping observations:

- The men and women in Georgian dance don't touch. There's some dances where they're partners and the man will guide the woman around the stage, but his arms and hands are always at a safe distance lest he be overcome with desire at a brush from her hand. Actually no, it's an act of respect for the man not to touch her, but it's still kind of funny to think of it as a straw-and-camel's-back situation.

- Women are graceful, floating creatures that gracefully float around the stage, long dresses billowing in their floaty breeze. Their main role is to slowly move their hands at the wrist while they raise and lower their arms, then rinse and repeat. There are a few dances where women get to break a sweat, and these are coincidentally my favorites.

- The dances are mostly regional. Perhaps, having not paid attention during that segment of World History, you're unaware of the regions of Georgia, or that Georgia has regions, or that Georgia is an independent nation. In any case, the regional variations in the costumes, gender roles, music, etc. are all the geography lesson you'll need, unless you've had the pleasure of taking the cross-country train and watching as The Nature of each region fades into that of the next. Only 9 lari from Tbilisi to Poti, but buy your tickets early.

On to the videos! If you only watch one, watch the last one-- the Khevsuruli. If you watch two, check out my fifth graders (3rd video). If you watch three, you may as well watch all six.


This one took place at my school. The dance is called kartuli, fyi. In fact, I might have already included this video in the Bolo Zari post, but you'll live. Check out the way the female dancer moves her wrists like a pro, slowly spinning like it's her birthday. Other things to notice include the eyes of the dancers, which are important in this one-- the male dancer stares at the female dancer like she's a vision chart, and the female dancer casts her eyes down. Why? OUT OF RESPECT. Or something like that.


Either Mrs. Thompsonshvili dropped the ball on this year's costumes, or the sleeves are supposed to be that long (they are). This is the Ossetian dance, and the most delightful part about this jaunty little ditty is that-- in case you didn't notice-- the boys and girls dress the same and dance the same. Gender equality in Ossetia!


These dancing machines are last year's fifth graders at my school. Thanks to the same-yard proximity of a dance studio, our school's students get only the most thorough of cultural educations. In this clip, they're dancing the Acharuli like no one's ever Acharulied before. The dance is from the region of Ajara/Atchara, which is even now more liberal than much of the country. Does that stem from centuries of dance where women and men kick and spin and reach in two-part harmony? The world may never know. It could just be because all the tourists go party on the beaches of Batumi every summer. Liberalism is contagious.


Just wanted to show you what it looks like when it's not choreographed. At supras, they'll usually hop aboard the dance train somewhere after the sixth or seventh toast, occasionally with video camera in tow to catch every excruciating moment of the American's impromptu dance lesson. It's a bit different without thirty people dancing in unison, but it's still harder than it looks. Videos which prove this will never be posted.


Khorumi! This all-male dance has some pretty blatant references to being on the warpath and listening for enemies. Usually when you're watching a traditional dance based on war, it takes some interpretation to see the similarities, kind of like looking at a constellation. Deciphering war from the Khorumi is like looking at a giant billboard that says "THIS IS A WAR." You'll see what I mean.


Why did I recommend that you watch the Khevsuruli? Because I think it has the most "Ooo, Aaa" moments. If you're tired of waiting for arthritis to settle in, why not accelerate the process by learning this dance? Jump five feet in the air and land on your knees! Hop across the stage on the curled tip of your unsupported big toe! All these stunts of amazing manliness are accomplished during the part of the dance where men try to outdo each other's feats of osteo-defying magnificence, so if you're looking for that part, skip past the beginning where they're feigning gentleness for the woman on the stage in all her graceful, floating loveliness. On a side note, I'm not sure I've ever seen someone sword fight like this... oh wait, there is that one Georgian music video with traditional music in the background, where 10th-century Georgians are having a supra in a field, when suddenly an innocent Georgian damsel is plucked away by a gang of ne'er-do-wells (probably also Georgian), and then the first group of Georgians slam their clay cups of wine to the table and race to her rescue, where they engage the second group of rapscallions in spinning sword fights. Don't worry, it ends well.

That's probably excessive enough for now. When you come visit me in Georgia, we'll go see the National Ballet if they're in town, where you can fully appreciate the sensation of watching a dance that people were probably doing in the same place fourteen centuries earlier. There's more adrenaline involved, too, not only from the girly reactions of awe at the sparkly costumes, but also a legitimate fear that the knives that the dancers are throwing into the floor are going to bounce out and stab you in the eye. Fun for the whole family!