Honeyland

Day off today so what better than a trip to the cinema? Screen 7 of the Luna in Leederville isn't very big but it still smells new and, what with it being a Friday morning session of a Macedonian documentary about beekeepers, you can guess how packed it was. More's the pity for the lack of an audience because this is a fantastic film.

Honeyland is all about Hatidze Muratova, a middle-aged Turkish/Macedonian wild beekeeper, living and barely subsisting in a small, near deserted village with her elderly mother in central North Macedonia. The directors, Tamara Kotevska and Ljubomir Stefanov, flag their intentions early by showing Hatidze walking through a vast tract of land, ending up on a cliff's edge. Here she cracks open some of the rock to reveal too many bees for anyone's good. Honestly, if bees aren't your thing (I'm thinking of an old college mate, Fraggle Rock, specifically), steer clear of Honeyland. As you might expect from the title, the little buzzing fuckers infest the film, but their importance - locally AND globally - is brought front and centre in due course.

Complications arise when a family of farming nomads arrive in truck and van and proceed to set up their house and cattle in the dilapidated ruins of the village (apparently named Bekirlijia). Initially, Hatidze seems to get along well with them, especially the kids but the father, Hussein, notices her beekeeping set-up and tries to muscle in on the honey trade, meagre though it is. The nub of the problem is the theme of the film - is it possible to live in harmony with nature? Hatidze takes half the honey from the bees and leaves them half to carry on their bee work. She co-exists with her environment. Hussein, though, requiring money to feed, clothe and educate his family, decides on a more 'capital-based' approach, thus endangering every bee in the area. The film-makers elicit these scenes in such a way that there are no villains, just hard choices and a kind of grinding fatalism.

Honeyland is quite unlike any film I've seen recently (though the landscape and decrepit buildings remind me of Calabria in Southern Italy). Before the nomads enter, Hatidze makes a trip to Skopje to sell some honey and do some shopping at the markets. This section of the film felt oddly familiar, simply because it was a city and not the desolation of the village. Contrails appear in the sky a few times, presumably to hint at a distant modernity. The nomad family fashion a makeshift antenna from an old metal plate and this crackly connection brings weather reports and crappy music, much to the delight of Hatidze.

The film's focus is on Hatidze and she's a really interesting character. She's good humoured but occasionally quick-tempered, mostly with her mother. She's good with kids and animals. At times, she appears innocent but is also realistic. She's regretful about not marrying but fiercely independent too. And her loneliness comes through above all else, which is why the third act scenes have so much power to them. But you can find out the rest when you see it. And you should see it.

See also:

Zhang Yimou's The Story of Qiu Ju (1992) is similar in look and Bill Condon's Mr. Holmes (2015) has Gandalf himself pottering around an apiary. Both worth watching.