A secret time-space protected from patriarchal surroundings, the tonratun (bakery) functions like a psychotherapy room, liberating the voices of Armenian women who take refuge there to make and bake lavash. Documentary filmmaker Inna Mkhitaryan, who is initially heard off-camera, gradually enters the frame to ask or rephrase questions, without ever judging. She almost takes on the role of a mental health professional as the discussions become more sensitive and intimate—drawn out through tears and back-and-forths between past and present stories.

Between sessions of kneading and baking bread in the tonir—a vertical oven where the dough is slapped onto the hot walls—there is talk of war with Turkey, which led to the loss of a large part of Armenia’s territory, its incorporation into the USSR, the earthquake, the fall of the Soviet Union, and forced labor. But above all, the women speak of sacrifice: lives devoted to motherhood, repeated abortions to favor the birth of boys, and absent or controlling husbands. Bearing these burdens, they gave up their dreams, their hopes of escaping their social conditions and villages. As their voices begin to flow, their words appear to embody a "natural" sacrifice—when in truth, it is the product of a traditional society steeped in the collective suffering of an entire people.

The film’s stunning cinematography, reminiscent of 17th and 18th-century classical painting, evokes the works of Murillo and Giacomo Ceruti, who immortalized poor but dignified peasant families in genre scenes. Tonratun: The Armenian History told by women is indeed a living painting of reality—animated, expressive, and profoundly feminist. The fire crackles in the bakery, driving away evil spirits and dark memories, in a cathartic setting.

Bruno Boëz
Producer, critic and programmer