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Feb. 12th, 2013 04:12 pm
Mennischde im Kino
Whenever a film gets as much good press as Stellet Licht (a.k.a. Silent Light, Luz silenciosa, Lumière silencieuse), I'm always a bit apprehensive about seeing it, lest I fail to see what all the fuss is about. Doubly so when I'm somewhat tired, and I know that long elegiac sequences which under different conditions would hold me entranced are liable to put me right to sleep. But I gambled on being so fascinated by the language that I would stay awake no matter what. And I knew that whatever I ultimately thought of the movie, it would be like nothing else I'd seen before. I was proved correct on both points.
This is the only feature-length film in Plautdietsch, a.k.a. Mennonite Low German, a language with a history as convoluted as that of the Mennonites themselves. They began adopting it in the 16th century when they sought refuge in West Prussia from persecution in their home territories--mostly the Low Countries, but also the Münsterland, Switzerland, and even the Tyrol. West Prussian dialect was already something of a mongrel, being the result of relatively recent resettlement (mostly from Low German-speaking regions further west, but also Silesia and elsewhere) and became more of one due to input from these diverse Germanic varieties.
Catherine the Great invited Germans to settle in Russia en masse, a policy continued by her successor Paul I, with whom the Mennonites signed an agreement which allowed them to settle along the Dnieper. Successive bouts of religious persecution and interference in their affairs pushed to Siberia, thence to Canada, and then in the early part of last century, a sizable group relocated to Mexico--principally Chihuahua State, where the movie is filmed and set. The lead actors--all amateurs and native Plautdietsch-speakers--recapitulate this history in their own origins: Cornelio Wall, the central character, is chihuahuense; Miriam Toews, who plays his wife, is from Manitoba; and Maria Pankratz, as his mistress, was born in Kazakhstan (Stalin's favourite dumping ground for deported minorities).
Relying on non-actors appears to be something of a fetish for director Carlos Reygadas, and here it pays off with some extremely naturalistic performances. Judging by surnames, Wall's father is played by his actual father and his and Toews' children are blended together from two sets of siblings. I wondered how the dialogue was composed, given that Reygadas (also credited as writer) can't possibly have known Plautdietsch. The making-of featurette shows him explaining to the leads (chiefly Wall) in Spanish or English what he wants from each scene. At one point, Wall is shown translating these instructions at length for the benefit of Jacobo Klassen, who plays his best friend.
This process of interpretation results in a serious disconnect between the spoken dialogue and the subtitles. It took me until halfway through the film to realise that part of my difficulty understanding the Platt wasn't just how crazy it is even from the point of view of other Low Saxon varieties (I've never had this much trouble with Bremer Platt, for instance, or Holsteinisch) but that the subtitles was actively misleading me. I even tried switching to Spanish in the hope they'd be more accurate, but to no avail; clearly Reygadas simply gave the subtitlers his shooting script rather than having a competent bilingual retranslate the dialogue in the final cut.
Other quirks of Reygadas are an affection for long takes and natural light and sound. There is some beautiful imagery in this film (though I confess these were also the scenes where I found myself fighting not to nod off). In fact, one of the Mennonites interviewed in the featurette seemed to think the movie was little more than a documentary of their lifestyle. There is that element, but it's nicely understated; the characters never once talk explicitly about their distinctive lifestyle or religion--it's all simply taken for granted. God's will is mentioned often, but the central conflict--how do you know who you're meant to be with?--would be fundamentally the same even if the community were atheist.
As a consequence, the whole film plays out in a place that is at once almost unreal (with its incomprehensible speech and folkways) and at the same time extremely well-grounded. One of the most striking aspects for me was that almost every interaction happens against a background of toil; conversations take place at a garage, on a milking floor, during a car trip. It's as far as imaginable from the typical rom-com, where characters' occupations are tangential at best and forgotten from one scene to the next. Children may not be heard much, but they're often seen; this is not a milieu where responsibilities can be easily cast aside even when desirable.
In the end, even if I was occasionally bored, I felt very satisfied for having seen this. Not enough to watch it twice in a weekend (though I would have if![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
monshu had been interested), but I would like to revisit it again sometime. (Preferrably after having a chance to study a bit more of their moon man German.)
This is the only feature-length film in Plautdietsch, a.k.a. Mennonite Low German, a language with a history as convoluted as that of the Mennonites themselves. They began adopting it in the 16th century when they sought refuge in West Prussia from persecution in their home territories--mostly the Low Countries, but also the Münsterland, Switzerland, and even the Tyrol. West Prussian dialect was already something of a mongrel, being the result of relatively recent resettlement (mostly from Low German-speaking regions further west, but also Silesia and elsewhere) and became more of one due to input from these diverse Germanic varieties.
Catherine the Great invited Germans to settle in Russia en masse, a policy continued by her successor Paul I, with whom the Mennonites signed an agreement which allowed them to settle along the Dnieper. Successive bouts of religious persecution and interference in their affairs pushed to Siberia, thence to Canada, and then in the early part of last century, a sizable group relocated to Mexico--principally Chihuahua State, where the movie is filmed and set. The lead actors--all amateurs and native Plautdietsch-speakers--recapitulate this history in their own origins: Cornelio Wall, the central character, is chihuahuense; Miriam Toews, who plays his wife, is from Manitoba; and Maria Pankratz, as his mistress, was born in Kazakhstan (Stalin's favourite dumping ground for deported minorities).
Relying on non-actors appears to be something of a fetish for director Carlos Reygadas, and here it pays off with some extremely naturalistic performances. Judging by surnames, Wall's father is played by his actual father and his and Toews' children are blended together from two sets of siblings. I wondered how the dialogue was composed, given that Reygadas (also credited as writer) can't possibly have known Plautdietsch. The making-of featurette shows him explaining to the leads (chiefly Wall) in Spanish or English what he wants from each scene. At one point, Wall is shown translating these instructions at length for the benefit of Jacobo Klassen, who plays his best friend.
This process of interpretation results in a serious disconnect between the spoken dialogue and the subtitles. It took me until halfway through the film to realise that part of my difficulty understanding the Platt wasn't just how crazy it is even from the point of view of other Low Saxon varieties (I've never had this much trouble with Bremer Platt, for instance, or Holsteinisch) but that the subtitles was actively misleading me. I even tried switching to Spanish in the hope they'd be more accurate, but to no avail; clearly Reygadas simply gave the subtitlers his shooting script rather than having a competent bilingual retranslate the dialogue in the final cut.
Other quirks of Reygadas are an affection for long takes and natural light and sound. There is some beautiful imagery in this film (though I confess these were also the scenes where I found myself fighting not to nod off). In fact, one of the Mennonites interviewed in the featurette seemed to think the movie was little more than a documentary of their lifestyle. There is that element, but it's nicely understated; the characters never once talk explicitly about their distinctive lifestyle or religion--it's all simply taken for granted. God's will is mentioned often, but the central conflict--how do you know who you're meant to be with?--would be fundamentally the same even if the community were atheist.
As a consequence, the whole film plays out in a place that is at once almost unreal (with its incomprehensible speech and folkways) and at the same time extremely well-grounded. One of the most striking aspects for me was that almost every interaction happens against a background of toil; conversations take place at a garage, on a milking floor, during a car trip. It's as far as imaginable from the typical rom-com, where characters' occupations are tangential at best and forgotten from one scene to the next. Children may not be heard much, but they're often seen; this is not a milieu where responsibilities can be easily cast aside even when desirable.
In the end, even if I was occasionally bored, I felt very satisfied for having seen this. Not enough to watch it twice in a weekend (though I would have if
monshu had been interested), but I would like to revisit it again sometime. (Preferrably after having a chance to study a bit more of their moon man German.)