Starting October 9, Gor Kirakosyan’s new comedy — set entirely inside Dalma Garden Mall — arrives on screens across Armenia’s major cities.
We spoke with the director about the healing power of humor, the challenges of filming in Armenia, his encounter with Guy Ritchie, and of course the making of “Mallorvats”.

AE: It’s no secret that in Armenia, both on TV and on the big screen, comedy is the most in-demand genre. Why is comedy so popular here?
GK: In Armenia films are either about pain or about something funny. Naturally, if that’s the choice, people prefer to escape their worries for two hours and relax a bit. Unfortunately, not every comedy is truly funny — but audiences always find something to watch.

AE: And in your case?
GK: Humor has always been like medicine for me. Back in California, the Demq Show team and I would meet twice a week for years to write comedy sketches. It was more like therapy than work. At the same time, I’ve always been in love with cinema.

But interestingly, when it came time to actually make my first film, I didn’t choose comedy. “I Hate Romeo & Juliet’s Story” was a strange experiment — artificial and not at all sincere. It taught me my best lesson: after that film, I promised myself I’d only make what feels truly mine.
That’s how “Big Story in a Small Town” happened — something I could tell in my own style, with my own humor. Comedy is my comfort zone; I know how it works. I mix other genres into it, but at its core, it’s always humor.
Only now I’m starting to feel ready for bigger shifts. We’ll see.

AE: It was 2006, you were only 24, and suddenly “Big Story in a Small Town.” For the recent era of Armenian cinema, it was huge. How did you pull it off?
GK: I was studying in the US, and the film was my course project. My father and his friends invested a serious amount, trusting that I’d bring the money back. My father had worked in theater and dance, so he could judge projects like this. Looks like he didn’t regret it.

AE: How was it received in Armenia?
GK: At the time, the only functioning cinema in Yerevan was Kino Moskva, and Armenian films were screened once in a blue moon.
The late Martun Adoian, the director of the cinema, was an old friend of my father’s and knew me through my comedy shows. When I told him I had a film and asked to screen it, he said:
“Gor jan, no one comes here to watch Armenian films. At best — one or two days. But since you’re Karo’s son and I love you, let’s do one week.”
That one week turned into three and a half months.
There was no real advertising: a banner on the cinema roof, one poster on Tumanyan–Prospekt, some flyers on Jazzve tables, and a few trailers on H2. That’s it. But people came, liked it, told each other — and the flow didn’t stop.

AE: Your filmography also includes “Ticket to Vegas” — a Russian production filmed in the US. You, a director from Armenia…
GK: I was hired as the director — it wasn’t originally my project. And when I joined, I immediately noticed a big problem in the script: the writers (a Russian husband and wife) had never been to America and only knew it from movies.
Since I had lived my whole life there, that bothered me. We worked a lot on rewriting it, I added my vision and style, brought back DP Philippe Vandevelde — a great collaborator.
I’m sad the film didn’t succeed commercially and didn’t meet the producers’ expectations. But I did everything I could, and I don’t regret the experience.

AE: What films do you enjoy as a viewer?
GK: Honestly, the films I watch are nothing like the ones I make. I can watch dark thrillers for hours. Everything by Fincher, Korean blood-soaked thrillers, Netflix’s Dark, early Guy Ritchie…
By the way, I was lucky enough to meet Guy Ritchie and discuss “Big Story.” He had watched it at home with Madonna — my brother Mihran was dancing in her crew at the time.
He told me he was impressed by one particular scene and said: “It was great — I’m going to steal it from you.”
I said: “Go ahead, I’ve stolen plenty from you.”
He replied: “Whatever you stole from me, I stole from someone else.”

AE: Do you follow other Armenian films?
GK: I try to watch everything. Recently I was very impressed by Anna Maksim’s “The Other Side of the Medal.” A rare case where you can feel the soul inside the film. I was glad to help organize screenings in the US.

AE: Do you watch your own films?
GK: Only when I have to show them to someone. Usually, the flaws jump out — things I now realize years later. Recently I rewatched “Lost & Found in Armenia” with new acquaintances and kept thinking the pacing could’ve been faster.

AE: Has filming in Armenia become easier over the last 20 years?
GK: At least many professions that didn’t exist back then now do. When shooting “Lost & Found” we brought all the equipment — from the camera to the last cable — from Georgia in three trucks, along with Georgian lighting and technical teams.
Today that’s not a problem. The equipment is here, people have grown, new ones have appeared.

AE: “Mallorvats” is your second collaboration with Diana Malenko. Do you write with actors in mind?
GK: Usually no. I try to create the character without tying it to anyone. Sometimes it becomes obvious while writing who the perfect choice is — like Hrant Tokhatyan in “Big Story,” or Misho Poghosyan in “Lost & Found.”
For Malenko’s role in “Mallorvats,” I considered four people — although she was first on the list.

AE: In the new film, one of the main “characters” is Dalma Garden Mall itself. How did it become your setting?
GK: The initial idea belonged to Grigor Danielyan and Garik Stepanyan. It was 2020, during the war; we were at the Chamber Theatre organizing aid. Between tasks we’d sit, talk, and throw around movie ideas.
They told me the concept: a little kid accidentally stays in the mall on New Year’s Eve, while thieves try to rob the place — they even had a few scenes in mind. I loved it.
We called Narek Margaryan (ArmComedy), and together we shaped the final script.

AE: How did the collaboration with Dalma happen?
GK: Through mutual connections. We reached out, and it turned out Dalma also wanted to shoot a film or series. Our visions aligned.
We prepared in November and started filming in January. We spent about 15–16 nights inside Dalma. Nights, because we’d arrive at 9 pm and leave at 9 am.
It was tough: we had to shoot inside first because of holiday decorations that couldn’t stay forever. The mall’s staff had changed — many things were new for them too. One café wanted to start renovations, and we barely convinced them to wait.
Then came the exterior scenes — Stepanavan, Kapan, Georgia — cold, winter…
But in the end, everything worked out beautifully.

AE: You’ve lived and studied in the US. Do you want to make an English-language film with American actors?
GK: Very much. I even have scripts written. But I haven’t yet found the door — or the person who will open the door — into big American cinema.
And if I have an idea, I don’t want to make a cheap, inferior version of it. Filming in the US would cost several times more than in Armenia.
But I’m not sitting and waiting. I work here and try to do my best. The door will open one day.

AE: What’s next?
GK: I always have projects growing in the background. I water them and wait to see which one will bloom. I have a fairy-tale script from 2014 about a modern father and son who end up inside the world of Tumanyan’s fairy tales — I wrote it when my son was just born. Back then it felt impossible to make; now maybe it’s time.
I’m also thinking of trying myself in dramedy — still using humor, but tackling more serious themes, with characters facing deeper problems. Something with the tone of the French Intouchables. That could be a real step forward for me.