Cannes Review: Imago Finds a Chechen-Born Filmmaker Searching For Home

Halfway through Imago, an engaging documentary from Déni Oumar Pitsaev, the director has a conversation with his mother about the piece of property she bought for him in Pankisi (a valley in Georgia near the Chechnya border). When he asks why she purchased it, she responds: “…so you don’t get lost, with no homeland… everyone needs a homeland.” This idea of “home” seeps through every frame of the film.

In 1996, as the First Chechen War raged on, young Déni fled with his mother to Russia. As of today, they cannot return to Chechnya, which is part of the Russian Federation. Imago follows Pitsaev’s adventure in Pankisi: reconnecting with his family, surveying his land, and debating building a house on it. There are laughs, revelations, and constant needling from loved ones about when Pitsaev will find a wife and kids. His cousin Daoud Margoshvili––a former Olympian, small-business owner, and intrepid family man––stands in stark comparison to Pitsaev. He is, according to those in the valley, everything a Chechen man should be. Daoud, to his credit, is very charming.

Imago‘s aesthetic often suggests a narrative feature, its staging and lighting sometimes implying something a bit more rehearsed than captured. Sylvain Verdet and Joachim Philippe are both credited as Director of Photography, and there is a soft touch to the image that nearly betrays authenticity. It is admittedly a strange criticism to say a movie looks too good; luckily, exchanges throughout cut through any pretense of style. Consider a lovely moment in which Pitsaev’s mother strokes his hair and tells him what she would have liked his name to be. It wasn’t her choice; nobody even asked for her opinion on the matter. They have a strong bond, despite the nagging about a family and all of the rest. She separated from his father a long time ago, surviving the war as a single mother.

When Pitsaev’s father does show up in Imago‘s back half to discuss the potential house and catch up, things grow a bit more tense. “My heart doesn’t allow me to feel close to you,” the director confesses to him at one point. And in a good example of the film’s image offering a distinct benefit, the cinematographers track over a beautiful, lush run of forest during a particularly heartbreaking section of a climactic conversation between father and son. There are other, lovely observations. In uncomfortable moments throughout the picture, certain people speaking will try to distract themselves with other, inane activities, as though picking at a tree branch will escape them from their reality. It’s childish, but so very real.

The idea of home is so specific in Imago, yet incredibly universal. Anyone will relate to that feeling. Of how it changes throughout your life while staying the same. There’s where you grew up. Where your family lives, parents and relatives. And then, if you so choose, where you are with your family (partner, children, whatever it may be). Each place, each group of people, harbors memories both good and bad. For Déni Oumar Pitsaev, he cannot go back to that place. But the people live on, as do the memories. What do we owe those who came before? Imago is a fascinating document of a lost boy, conflicted on how he wants to be found.

Imago premiered at the 2025 Cannes Film Festival.

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