L'apiculteur

"Fly" Alto Anghelopoulos with this painfully twilight and intimist film, collaborated by the coarse of the War Tonino poet. A mature mastroianni always convincing and a very young but equally good Nadia Mourouzi who plays the erotic liveliness that fails to affect, if not marginally, the existential indifference of the Melissokomos ". Short but intense appearance of Serge Reggiani. Metaphorical interpreters are also bees, protagonist's life comrades, but inexorable justices in the memorable final scene. Film to be rediscovered!

A middle aged teacher retires from his career, dedicates himself to his hobby, and embarks on a journey through Greece with his colony of bees in his lorry. Along the way he picks up a young woman hitch hiker, and a relationship develops between them that explores the depths of personal loneliness and and alienation.

Both Spiros and his young passenger have lost their perspective of the future - he is living in nostalgic reminiscence of the past, while the young girl's life is one of instant gratification, she seems to be aware of neither past nor future. Their inherent inner isolation expresses itself in a series of futile, almost savagely physical attempts at forming real contact with each other, that leaves the viewer with a harrowing picture of disturbed, painful existence.

This is a slow, carefully composed film, a sequence of memorable images, some visually beautiful, others showing the gritty harshness of life. There is a constant shifting between dreams and realities that leaves what actually happens shrouded in doubt, and a moody atmosphere of nostalgia that pervades the whole film.

An exceptional film that should not be missed by patient and observant people interested in the exploration of human feelings.

"The Beekeeper" (1986) is Theo Angelopoulos' seventh film and features leading man Marcello Mastroianni. The minimal and meaningless plot (following the disintegration of his family, a beekeeper embarks on a trip and has an on/off affair with a young girl) is an excuse for Angelopoulos to indulge in his trademark semi-poetic images of Greek rural and urban landscapes.

A few of the sequences stick out, but most are unremarkable (and there's too much deja-vu about them, all Angelopoulos films are pretty much the same). There is very little action, very little dialog, too much boredom, too much doodling. This is the definition of pretentious art-house pomp.

A beekeeper, Spyros, having just married off his daughter, who seems to be the only person he has any humanly connection with, embarks on a journey with his bees across the country as part of his profession. A journey during which he encounters a free spirited young girl who hitches a ride on his truck.

This movie quite brilliantly explores loneliness from two levels. One, from the aging beekeeper, who with the marriage of his daughter and the separation with his wife, has nothing for himself and seeks to fill this void through revisiting aspects from his past. The second, is from the young girl, whose loneliness is manifested through a destructive and meaningless attachment to whatever brings her instant gratification with no regard for consequences in the future. And the movie explores how the pairing of the two can lead to nothing but despair.

Theodoros Angelopoulos is a filmmaker who speaks through silence, where the unspoken is always the most expressive. And fittingly, the Beekeeper is a movie engrossed in a sense of yearning; either towards something you once had, or for things you think you should have. The tragedy of one's hopelessness in the world of Angelopoulos, lies not in one's choices, but in their unchangeable state of loneliness they so desperately try to escape.

What's not to love here?

It's strange to imagine, truly, that in a look shared above a tray of broken dishes, a person can radiate such an overwhelming sense of guilt, of emptiness and quiet sorrows that the entirety of the film could be unraveled but from that single, wordless glance.

Marcello Mastroianni helms The Beekeeper (O Melissokomos), a low-key yet profound picture set in a contemporary Greece, one fraught with winding highways and steeped in violet mists, littered throughout with fragments of a ravaged, not-so-distant past. It is a tale of being adrift, of reminiscence, shot in hazy shades of dawn and told through lingering eyes and bursts of anguished emotion.

Spiros (Mastroianni) rides along the pale hills, tending to his beehives strewn across the country, washed in silent resignation, lost along the border of nostalgia and despair. A young girl (Nadia Mourouzi) travels at his side, a girl who's just as lost as he, equally resigned to that inexorably cruel fate of simply not knowing.

It's a quiet piece, but whenever the players opt to break the silence, it rings lyrical and true. There is little music, though when it spirits past those lonely, crumbling streets, it's haunting, strange and powerful.

Throughout these one hundred and twenty minutes of mystical, almost ethereal and yet still so fundamentally real images I am enraptured, completely, fully succumbed to the beauty of this vague and poetic journey. A masterfully crafted film, one that captures these illusive thoughts and gestures with poignancy, feelings that are so impossible to describe yet nevertheless permeate our lives through every restless, stifled hour.