Through raw, emotional footage captured in a decaying sanatorium called Abastumani on the mountainsides of Georgia, directors Mariam Chachia and Nik Voigt tell the story of tuberculosis patients and their struggle to normalize their situation. Following a handful of patients through the echoing halls, Chachia and Voigt sublimely illustrate the world of isolation and uncertainty each tuberculosis patient finds themself engulfed in. 

Shown at Ragtag Cinema on March 3 as part of the True/False Film Fest lineup, “Magic Mountain” revolves around the world of tuberculosis patients isolated from society. The documentary was originally released in 2023, but made its American debut on Feb. 29 this year. 

Set in a withering hospital, the shot pans to peeling paint as tuberculosis patients cough and groan in the background. The building itself resembles a prison of some sort, the only difference being the care and consideration of the prisoners — or patients. It’s obvious the hospital is falling apart, with rotting walls and aged furniture finding itself into almost every frame. The windows creek as nurses force them open and floorboards moan under each footstep. 

Many patients had been cooped up in the sanatorium for several months at the time of filming — some even years. While countless of the patients roaming through the halls had experienced some sort of relief from the harsh symptoms, a few would meet their end from the terrible disease. 

The human condition is an overarching theme throughout the entire documentary, pulling at the heartstrings with frames of patients smiling and playing cards as they swallow their coughs. I couldn’t help but feel attached to some of the patients shown throughout the film because of shots featuring human connection and relation. 

The compelling twist to the documentary was that Chachia herself also suffered from tuberculosis. Pulling from her own experiences and understanding of the disease, Chachia offered a personal touch that really brings the documentary together outside of the chilling shots. 

Using blunt and brutal realities, Chachia recalls when she had been diagnosed with tuberculosis and how it impacted her. Chachia’s dialogue throughout the film, drawing on her own confrontation with the disease, read almost like a letter to Abastumani; she asks it questions and refers to it as “you.” I thought this particular decision added an even deeper meaning to the directors’ vision for the documentary by further pushing the personal aspect.

The documentary takes an abrupt twist toward the end when the sanatorium’s staff, nurses and cleaners alike are told that the building is going to be destroyed, throwing them out of their jobs. Racing to clean the halls of any remaining furniture or remnants of patients, the nurses found themselves bagging contaminated mattresses and clothing. The final shots of the documentary show the building being torn down in a montage as dramatic music fills the silence. 

Overall, I enjoyed the film’s haunting, cinematic shots portraying candid emotion and how it intertwines with the human condition. The documentary offers a glimpse into a unique, almost otherworldly place high in the mountains of Georgia that demands your attention and curiosity from complete strangers. 

Edited by Annie Goldman | agoldman@themaneater.com 

Copy Edited by Briana Iordan | biordan@themaneater.com

Edited by Genevieve Smith | gsmith@themaneater.com