Given her exceptionally poor living conditions in the nearly deserted hamlet of Bekirlija, Hatidze would often say that her main wish, out of her newfound fame, is to move to a better house in the near-by village of Dorfulija which offers far better living standards… One attacker was arrested and another shot dead in the attack on Monday night, Austrian broadcaster ORF reported. She herself lives in what amounts to a hole in the rock, a cave-like hut where she tends her ancient mother as gently and patiently as she tends her bees. Children are at the heart of the film: we see them swimming in a bomb crater and painting a burned-out shell of a bus. This is the first of many surprises in Honeyland (2019), a documentary set in a rugged, barely inhabited region of Macedonia where an extraordinary woman named Hatidze maintains ancient traditions of wild beekeeping. You can see a trailer for the film, ravishing beyond any description I can write. From the start, Georgiev said they were very aware about their responsibilities to their subjects and the eco-system — both natural and human — that they come from. The filmmakers use contrasting visual styles to emphasize the gulf between two ways of life, with jerky handheld camera intensifying the chaos and messiness of Hussein’s hapless family, the parents always yelling at their unwashed, unruly children. ), The filmmakers originally planned to make a short video portrait of Hatidze. Are you going to be a humanitarian organization or a filmmaker? Now it’s about finding the time. We had a screening in Woodstock for one person. Kotevska says there were many other disadvantages from the beginning of the shooting but most of them ended up working out well. Quiet returns, winter comes; Hatidze chops firewood in the snow, chases wolves off with torches, sits by the little stove singing to her cats. A nomadic family—Hussein and Ljutvie Sam and their seven children—pulled up in a trailer and began living next door to Hatidze. Before the falling out over honey, Hatidze befriends the family, playing with the children and taking one boy under her wing, teaching him her ways. But did you ever think about making a film about the last traditional Kosovo flute player?’, LS: Because we won three awards at Sundance, we had to keep giving speeches. Hatidže lives with her 85-year-old, partly blind and bedridden mother Nazife, who is completely … For other nationalities, what happened to Hatidze might be easier to understand, because they’ve seen similar behavior all around them.

At first, as the film wordlessly follows Hatidze on her treks through the desolate countryside and the ruins of a village where bees live among the stones of crumbling walls, we could be watching a movie about survivors in a post-apocalyptic wasteland, or even a story set on another planet, so alien does this life seem. The debut feature from documentarians Ljubo Stefanov and Tamara Kotevska HONEYLAND was shot over three years by a skeleton crew committed to an intimate collaboration between filmmakers and subject. Stefanov says that in the traditional communities in that part of the world, regardless of the religion or ethnicity, "there is an unwritten rule that the last-born female child stays with the parents until their death". I wouldn’t say competing, because the documentary community is very supportive. “We were doing it by instinct, and then as soon as we got the translations the plot was all there.

Indeed, the contrast could not be more stark to Hatidze’s solitary life in Bekirlija, where she tends her hives of wild bees, only ever taking half the honey so the bees would always have their due. But Hatidze was longing for her own family. “I’ve become like a tree,” she says, explaining why she cannot move from the house. We share this money equally. This was the beginning of a "crazy adventure" of three years, filming through scorching summers and freezing winters. H: Do you feel comfortable with that aspect of the industry?

They have since helped set Hatidze up in a new winter home close to her relatives in the “nearest village to civilization.”. The mother, Nazife, is a one-eyed crone with a child’s voice, who occasionally arrests the film with a poetic utterance. "They make you extremely creative, we thought of the solutions that turned out to be quite unique.". A woman walks alone across a valley as bare as the moon. But the similarities between people and bees do not stop there. It is well known that male and female bees fill very different roles, but the film shows everybody doing the same jobs. As she climbs a narrow cliffside path, the camera follows close behind until she reaches a beehive hidden behind a rock. When her daughter asks if she can imagine spring coming, she responds cryptically, “Too many winters have passed.”. But it has still connected with a worldwide audience through the protagonists' body language, relationships and emotions. She says that beekeeping has made Hatidze such a remarkable person.

Due to its location in a secluded mountain, the village has no access to electricity and running water. We changed Hatidze’s life. TK: The festival organizer, who was half-French and half-indigenous, was telling us how there are 28 local languages for every tribe, and in none of them is there the word “I.” Doesn’t exist. In one scene, one of the young sons is shown helping a cow give birth, while another boy attempts milking with his father nearby. "The Sam family that comes later are the other group of bees who are attacking the previous group of bees, which is Hatidze and her family. Three years in three minutes, In pictures: Trump and Biden through the years, Trump supporter replaces neighbour's stolen Biden sign.

Honeyland closes with a close-up of Hatidze’s remarkable face. Now it has become the first film ever to get Oscar nominations for both best documentary and best foreign language movie, Hatidze has become a full-blown celebrity who gets stopped in the street by Hollywood stars. Honeyland has much to say about conserving nature, but its lessons are also about human life and relationships. As with many scenes in Honeyland, it feels like a privilege simply to witness this moment. The diary-style, on-the-fly footage is intercut with panoramas of Aleppo, smoking at sunset, its rubble and white crumbling shells of buildings spreading out in bird’s-eye drone shots.

Waad questions them about what is going on, and they display an appalling ability to distinguish between different types of bombs and shells. And, like the jobs in the village of Bekirlija, the making of the film was shared between Stefanov and Kotevska, who is one of only a handful of female directors to be nominated for an Oscar this year. Both qualities are written on Haditze’s face, making it an image to hold in the mind’s eye, now and in the troubles to come. Hussein, his wife and the children all share the roles around the cattle. TK: More or less. TK: If Hatidze and her neighboring family let you into their way of life, that means both are okay with the way they live.

July 24, 2019, Honeyland (Ljubomir Stefanov and Tamara Kotevska, 2019).

In For Sama, she and fellow director Edward Watts weave this harrowing footage together with her own story: her marriage to Hamza, a doctor who winds up running the last remaining hospital in the rebel-held portion of Aleppo, the birth of their daughter Sama, and their determination to stay in the devastated city and continue their fight against the regime of Bashar al-Assad.