Why should anyone watch a decades-old biopic about a centuries-old Armenian troubadour that relies not on dialogue, not on a straightforward narrative, but on scenes that are cryptic as hell? The Color of Pomegranates won’t be for most viewers, but even without the historical context, cinephiles will appreciate the artistic vision Sergei Parajanov crafted alongside the words from Sayat-Nova himself, the series of meticulously assembled tableaux that aren’t easy to forget. Every image is intentional. As each image flashes on screen, recreating what must have been the poet’s daily life, Parajanov also immortalizes Armenian culture– the textile crafts, the folklore, the language, and the iconography– at a time when Armenia was under the rule of the Soviet Union. Soviet censors blocked its distribution, pushed it to the underground, and re-cut the film, but Sayat Nova, as well as the culture he came from, still remains an iconic masterpiece that meditated on suppression and art as a living memory.

Sofiko Chiaureli plays not just the poet in his adolescence, but also his love, his muse, a mime, and the Angel of Resurrection. It’s an interesting choice to cast the Armenian actress this way, but it’s why the film is so memorable.