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Writing credits
Sayat Nova (poems)
Sergei Paradzhanov

Cast (in credits order)
M. Aleksanyan ....  Poet as a child
Vilen Galstyan ....  Poet in the cloister
Georgi Gegechkory ....  Poet as an old man
Onik Minasyan ....  The Prince
Sofiko Chiaureli ....  Young/Poet's Love/Nun/Mime
 

Directed by
Sergei Yutkevich (censored version)

Original music by
Tigran Mansuryan

Cinematography by
A. Samvelyan
Martyn Shakhbazyan
Suren Shakhbazyan

Film Editing by
Sergei Paradzhanov

Production Design by
Stepan Andranikyan

Other crew
Sergei Paradhzanov ....  choreographer

Production Companies
Armenfilm Studios

Distributors
Artkino Pictures (1940-1972) [us]

Also Known As:
Color of Pomegranates (1968)
Nran Gouyne (1968)
Red Pomegranate (1968)
Tsvet granata (1968)
Runtime: Russia:75 / Sweden:73
Country: Soviet Union
Language: Armenian
Color: Color
Sound Mix: Mono
Certification: UK:PG / Sweden:11

video for 604 track _God Is God_ by Juno Reactor off of _Bible Of Dreams_ CDb as well as _God Is God_ 12" on Blue Room Released is based on this film

THE POMEGRANATE

Once when I was living in the heart of a pomegranate, I heard a seed saying, "Someday I shall become a tree, and the wind will sing in my branches, and the sun will dance on my leaves, and I shall be strong and beautiful through all the seasons." Then another seed spoke and said, "When I was as young as you, I too held such views; but now that I can weigh and measure things, I see that my hopes were vain." And a third seed spoke also, "I see in us nothing that promises so great a
future." And a fourth said, "But what a mockery our life would be, without a greater future!" Said a fifth, "Why dispute what we shall be, when we know not even what we are." But a sixth replied, "Whatever we are, that we shall continue to be." And a seventh said, "I have such a clear idea how everything will be, but I cannot put it into words." Then an eighth spoke - -and a ninth -- and a tenth -- and then many -- until all were speaking, and I could distinguish nothing for the many voices. And so I moved that very day into the heart of a quince, where the seeds are few and almost silent.

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