Honeyland

This movie focuses on the tiny things that can make the life beautiful. Hatidze owns close to nothing, doesn't have own family but still manages to enjoy life.

What is the reason for Hatidze to continue living? Do we humans need to have a goal that drives us throug our everyday and what when we fail achieving it?

Those are the two questions that haunt me after watching this masterpiece.

Hatidze Muratova collects honey from local bees in rural North Macedonia. She's alone caring for her elderly mother. Times are getting tougher. A Turkish family moves in next door with their cattle. Then they start raising their own bees and conflict follows.

This is a documentary of a woman and her bees. At first, I figured that it'd be a simple movie of beautiful poverty and living with nature. I did not expect the devastating neighbor drama and the tragic perseverance with her mother. I'm almost certain that some of the conversations have been recreated. In fact, the story is so great that I wonder if it has been manufactured. The chainsaw scene is just devastating. That whole conflict is so small and so important. This is a personal epic.

In a microcosm you get to see what humans are doing wrong. The amount of time the filmmakers have spent with the subject of the film, shows in the level of intimacy that the camera has acquired in their lives. As if it's a pair of eyes. And not a camera. Making this a thoroughly engaging film.

The relatively modern tools Hussein uses to weigh honey only help to cement the film's clear microcosm of the tension between sustainability and industrialization; between restraint and a catastrophic lack of foresight. In that sense, watching "Honeyland" is like looking at the greatest problems of our time through a pinhole, but the film sees the situation with a clarity that gets under your skin and breaks your heart. Far from a scolding, rub-your-nose-in-it depiction of environmental havoc, this is a tender story about the chaos of abandoning the common good. By reflecting Muratova's relationship with her hives against the social contract that she's formed with her mother - and that binds Hussein to his family - Kotevska and Stefanov shine a light on what the bees have always told us: They survive by serving each other. And if they ever disappeared completely, people would only have themselves to blame.

Fighting with your neighbors. Struggling to care for your aging parent. Plying your craft and trade in the compassionless barreling economy of scale, so different from, and destructive to, the natural economies of being human. It is the same here, there, and everywhere. When there is no social contract their is imbalance and suffering, when the natural order is defended, there is simplicity and sustainability. One of my favorites of the year. Cinema is many things, but at its most beautiful it is an empathy engine.