Honeyland

Co-director Tamara Kotevska

Directors Ljubomir Stefanov and Tamara Kotevska

Producer and Editor Atanas Georgiev (left to right) with filmmakers Tamara Kotevska and Ljubomir Stefanov

HONEYLAND                      B                    

Macedonia  (87 mi)  2019  d:  Tamara Kotevska and Ljubomir Stefanov

Winner of the World Documentary Grand Jury prize at Sundance, with Special Jury awards for cinematography and “impact for change,” this is an unflinching yet excruciatingly painful view of dire poverty, in stark contrast to Nadine Labaki’s heavily acclaimed yet overly manipulative Capernaum (Capharnaüm) (2018) that rubs viewers faces in the misery, yet here nothing is contrived, offering a wide-ranging and encompassing view of one of the more isolated regions on earth that also includes a striking portrait of a resourceful woman who manages to survive in the rural outback of a region time forgot, living by her wits and her respect for nature, something the ever-changing world around her ignores at its own peril, becoming a cautionary tale about survival.  The opening ten minutes reveal the essence of the film, featuring intimately quiet choral music written by the Macedonian band Foltin that has an ancient sacred sound that both opens and closes the film, using a cinéma vérité style, gloriously filmed by Fejmi Daut and Samir Ljuma, capturing the barren emptiness of the land from a view on high (taken by drones), where humans appear as tiny specks on the ground, set in the hilly upper plateau of the rugged terrain of the Macedonian Balkans.  It’s here that we find a solitary inhabitant crossing the landscape, making her way to a harrowing mountain edge, a dangerous precipice that leaves little wiggle room for the cinematographers hovering nearby, removing a large flat stone, discovering a hive of bees hidden inside, carefully removing half of the honeycomb, “Half for you, and half for me,” her credo of living in harmony, using puffs of smoke to calm the anxious bees at so rudely being discovered, seemingly left unhindered for centuries.  This eye-popping opening says it all, introducing viewers to Hatidže Muratova, a scrawny, middle-aged woman with horribly crooked teeth, whose weathered face reveals a life of hardship and duress, yet through patience and accumulated wisom, she calmly endures.  Living in a one-roomed shack with no water or electricity, lit only by candlelight, she cares for her aging mother who is blind in one eye and can no longer walk, spending her entire existence bedridden under a swarm of flies, relying upon the considerable talents of her daughter, with cats and a lone dog having the run of the place, often seen curled up next to the wood-burning stove, providing her mother with constant companionship, not that she notices.  Their running dialogue is spare, yet pointed, revealing little affection or personal detail, mostly trying to get her mother to move around or eat something, spending most of the film buried under a pile of blankets.  Their lonely, solitary existence is interrupted by the nomadic presence of new neighbors arriving in a trailer home, Hussein and Ljutvie Sam and their seven children setting up camp next door, bringing along their livestock cows, creating a maelstrom of disorganized youthful energy, with absolutely nothing for those kids to do, continually berated and chastised by their father for not helping out enough, where he’s always on their case for something, as they seem to thrive on hostility. 

Hatidže initially tries to be a good neighbor, becoming especially fond of their oldest son, treating him like a son, patiently showing each meticulous step in caring for the bees where you don’t get stung, which he picks up very quickly, soon realizing his father has not grasped the art of details, more aggressively taking shortcuts, where his lack of calm guarantees that they constantly get stung, angrily denouncing his son afterwards for critiquing his methods, behaving like a tyrant, authoritatively dismissing any advice while banning future visits with Hatidže, where they typically end up shouting profanities at each other.  The Sams show little interest in actually looking after their children, or their livestock, as they’re left unfed and alone most of the time, both beaten regularly, soon discovering their lifeless animals are dying right before their eyes in painfully graphic imagery, losing as many as 50 cows.  While Hussein insists they’ve encountered a disease, and maybe they have, but more likely they’re just underfed, depleting their immune systems.  Quickly realizing this, Hatidže shares her knowledge about caring for the bees, stressing how important it is to practice methods of sustainability, as there’s little else in the vicinity to provide food and an occasional source of income.  Hatidže makes the long trek by foot and by bus into the nearest town of Skopje, the capital city of the Republic of Macedonia, a thriving urban metropolis teeming with outdoor food vendors, walking around like she owns the place, announcing her Turkish heritage, finding a scattering of Albanians and Serbs, developing an easy rapport so they trust her, selling her unfiltered honey for anywhere from 10 to 20 euros, buying a hand fan for her mother to swat away the flies while indulging in hair dye for herself, though we always see her head covered by a scarf.  Living this lifestyle, there’s not much of a need for money, rarely venturing into the city, but it’s profitable nonetheless, establishing a reputation among the vendors for having the richest tasting honey, making them willing to pay a little extra.  Despite the utter isolation of her life, she’s gregarious and social, even dances a bit to ethnic music she likes, where there’s plenty to choose from, considering the historical melting pot of neighboring cultures, even returning with a few bananas that she eagerly shares with her mother, who’s not much of a conversationalist, but surprises us from time to time with her acerbic humor.  Never revealing much personal information, Hatidže inquires as to why her mother never arranged for a marriage, as is the custom, but her mother had no issue with the prospective suitors, claiming it was her father who refused.  Other than that, absolutely no backdrop information is ever provided, with no narration, leaving viewers to adventurously find their way in this rather raw and unfiltered slice-of-life narrative.        

The filmmakers themselves were visiting the region in search of making an environmental documentary along the Bregalnica River in North Macedonia, as the panoramic landscape is filled with stunning vistas and very few people, with the vacuous location testing them as perhaps few others do, where the degree of physicality needed to survive in such an uninhabited region is enormous, recalling the equally remote Sibel (2018), shot in an isolated mountainous region of Turkey.  And while there are many questions that come to mind, wondering what actually happened and what was staged for the camera, once having met Hatidže, realizing her conscientious approach to survival, she became the central focus, with the filmmakers visiting her regularly over a period of three years, initially spending weekends over a 6-month period due to the difficulty of transporting food and needed equipment into the region (unable to approach by car, requiring an all-terrain vehicle, which limits the amount you can carry), acquiring more knowledge over time, eventually adding these mysterious shots of jet streams passing overhead, with modernity making its presence in what otherwise resembles Biblical times.  This feeling of being out of time prevails throughout the film, yet Hatidže seems to find the right harmonious balance, disturbed by the overly intrusive presence of her neighbors who don’t take the same precautions, feeling ever more desperate with so many mouths to feed, eventually agreeing to quick money up front from a shady businessman, with Hussein promising more honey than he could possibly provide, lured by the dollar signs, eventually selling the entire honeycomb and lying about it to Hatidže afterwards, claiming he’s perplexed by it all and doesn’t understand what happened, leaving angry bees without a hive, quickly attacking Hatidže’s healthy bees, wiping them out entirely, leaving her helpless and utterly disconsolate, sharing her dejection with her mother who sardonically offers the words of wisdom, “May God burn their livers.”  Similarly, according to a recent publication, Plos One, the prevalent use of toxic pesticides in American agriculture has destroyed ten million bee colonies in the United States since 2006.  The question could just as easily be asked if the enveloping presence of modernity isn’t the problem, with its reckless habit of disregarding what came before in its rapid pursuit of the future.  Hussein’s belligerence is simply the metaphoric stand-in for this ill-advised approach, representing the encroaching future that he thoughtlessly destroys.  In no time, they’re packing up their belongings and heading down the road for another destination, returning Hatidže and her mother to a quiet and solitary existence.  This coincides with the changing seasons, which her mother fails to survive, growing wintry and more brutally harsh, having to fend with the snow and the plummeting temperatures.  But spring does arrive, with Hatidže having to start building her bee hives all over again, basically starting anew, but despite the long and arduous treks needed, she knows where to find them, using knowledge accumulated over time, becoming a final survivor in this bleak and desolate environment.  Of unique interest, viewers may contribute to local community improvement by donating to the website http://honeyland.earth in exchange for 30g (a quarter of a cup) of pure unfiltered honey extracted from the region.  

The Line (Čiara)

THE LINE (Čiara)                  B                    

Slovakia  Ukraine  (112 mi)  2017  d:  Peter Bebjak              Film Čiara: The Line  

A tongue-in-cheek comedy about the travails of border smuggling, where police bribes are the key to their success, revealing a world where corruption is the only way to do business, though lurking behind the scenes is a darker, Mafioso gangster that everyone is actually working for, who is nothing less than ruthless when it matters, exposing a harrowing world of crime and punishment.  Set in 2007, the film is a mad rush to make what profits they can while security is still lax before Slovakia joins the Schengen Area, an EU collective of states that operates with open borders without passports or Visa’s, where the appearance of efforts to beef up security concerns are in full swing prior to the change-over.  Welcome to the Slovak-Ukrainian border region, where the film attempts to resemble the stylishness of an Emir Kusturica film, who is a clear influence on the director, though as he puts it, “If you have a story with people drinking, fighting and playing an accordion, it does not necessarily mean it is Kusturica.”  Fair enough, but this film pales in comparison to the director of TIME OF THE GYPSIES (1988) and UNDERGROUND (1995), whose rollicking political satires offer an entirely different view of the world through an absurdist lens, while this film is entertaining, but never kicks it into another level.  Slovak strongman Adam Krajňák (Tomáš Maštalír), an Eastern version of Jason Statham, is a hard-assed crime boss that preaches the importance of family, but rules with an iron fist, where cutting off the finger of one of his henchmen is viewed as the right thing to do, as he knowingly crossed the line, violating his principled position to refuse smuggling hard drugs across the border, even though this jeopardizes everything he’s worked for, because if he doesn’t do it, someone else will, which takes money out of his pocket.  Navigating one’s way through this minefield of principled ethics and routine corruption is no easy matter, as Adam answers to Ukrainian crime boss Krull (Stanislav Boklan), who operates with no moral boundaries whatsoever, killing anyone that stands in his way.  Nonetheless, the film uses plenty of sight gags, like every time Adam’s gang meets to discuss “the next job,” with each absurdly lighting a cigarette in unison as they huddle around him to get the details.  

The film spends plenty of time with Adam and his cohorts, including his most trusted confidante, Jona (Eugen Libezňuk), his Ukrainian partner on the other side, who picks up from Krull what needs to be smuggled, anything from cigarettes, liquor, even Afghani refugees, where safe passage is guaranteed by the Slovak border police captain, Peter (Andrej Kryc), who always gets his cut.  Influenced by Russia with its lawlessness and black market economy, always operating outside the rules, this is another one of those hard-edged, everyone is corrupt kind of films, as there are no jobs, where presumably the only opportunities for upward mobility are illegal, where payoffs are so routinely built into the system that no one blinks an eye, but there’s little concern how this affects others outside this ring of thieves, as the film literally couldn’t care less, instead it mocks those at the lowest end of the economic scale, who are seen as bottom feeders pilfering one of Adam’s transport trucks that crashes on the side of the road, taking all they can carry, where the whole town from elderly seniors down to infant children are seen puffing away on cigarettes the next day.  There’s also an amusing narrative strand about a group of young elementary school kids that take off in their parent’s pink convertible that simply never develops, still out on the loose, apparently, completely forgotten by the director and his screenwriter Peter Balko.  So while the film has a distinct point of view, emulating the family crime dramas of The Sopranos or even THE GODFATHER (1972), it offers precious little insight into social concerns, save for a brief glimpse into the harrowing life of escaped refugees, where the film seems to be made with blinders on.  Nonetheless, the free-spirited style, constantly shifting storyline, and underlying suspense is injected with wall-to-wall Balkan-inflected music by Slavo Solovic that keeps the energy level high, showcasing the fluid camerawork of Martin Žiaran.  After initially pushing a Ukranian youngster aside as a lovable loser, deemed a detrimental influence on his oldest daughter Lucia (Kristína Kanátová), Adam is forced to reconsider after learning she’s pregnant, welcoming Ivor (Oleksandr Piskunov) to the family, who happens to be the brother of Jona’s wife, even finding a spot for him in the smuggling business.  Peter, the police cop, even sings at the engagement party, which more closely resembles a biker convention, with all manner of derelicts showing up drinking themselves into a stupor.

The contrast between contemporary and old school is charming, where there is honor among thieves, so long as business is good.  But that’s where the troubles begin, as Adam’s business is sabotaged on all sides by the deceitful actions of Krull, prefaced by a memorable meeting with the crime boss at his kid’s soccer game, with Krull the only spectator in an otherwise empty stadium, where his overweight nephew on defense has a tendency to wipe out anyone that comes in his direction, claiming innocence afterwards when the player is injured, but Krull owns the referees, allowing him to make the calls from the stands — No foul.  In the very same breath, he wants Adam to move narcotics across the border, something he adamantly refuses to do, which instigates a parting of the waves, as the two don’t see eye to eye.  While the meeting was cordial, with Adam pledging complete trust and reliability, Krull sees things differently, undermining his operations, causing one disaster after another, leaving Adam in a tough spot, as he grows more and more isolated, even assassinating one of Adam’s henchmen (who gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar) right before his eyes at a flooded rock quarry in an antiquated ritual that suggests these men have met here many times before.  Spiraling into an anxiety-ridden corner, made that much worse by the impending closure of the border, the film is steeped with an increasing paranoia about the world closing in on Adam, as the powers that be are quickly turning on him, allowing the film to expand its horizons and grow more contemplative, where the absurdity of living in the East kicks in, where a supposedly brighter and more hopeful future may actually shut down his gangland operations.  That is, if he doesn’t get killed first.  Things get pretty grim, where he’s down to final options, when his mother (Emília Vásáryová), a macabre spectre in the family, keeping silent most of the time, with a backstory we never learn about, finally comes out of the shadows and rises to the occasion, making her presence heard, though things have changed considerably since her glory days. Even so, combining elements of a thriller with black comedy, and a touch of the surreal, this is a thoroughly entertaining film, with multiple storylines all plunging headlong into an ominous climax that tragically marks that auspicious occasion when the EU finally cleans up border operations, suggesting life will go on, as humans have endured far worse fates.