If you were to ask a group of people what insect they feared the most, chances are, at least one of them will say it’s the bee. Despite the delicious honey they produce, the thought of bee stings can send shivers down many spines. Thus, on the surface, Honeyland may seem like your typical informative National Geographic documentary about the bee population, giving us facts, numbers, and shots that hope to alleviate that fear. However, Honeyland provides us the minimum with bee facts as it unravels itself into a beautiful yet heartbreaking tale of one woman’s resiliency.
Honeyland follows the day-to-day life of Hatidze Muratova, one of the last “bee-hunters”, as she cultivates honey from the mountains of Macedonia. Here, she lives alone with her mother, putting in all her time and energy to make sure they live happily and peacefully. However, this peacefulness is disrupted when a Turkish family of farmers intrudes, establishing their own tactics of raising farm animals, cultivating honey from bees, and harming the environment in which Hatidze has worked so hard to protect. With this intrusion, we are invited into a heart-aching tale of the effects of this family on not only the bees Hatidze has protected for so long, but also the personal well-being of Hatidze and her mother.
If there is one thing that is clear about Honeyland , it is that it is visually stunning, emphasizing just how extraordinary Honeyland’s storytelling is. Directors Tamara Kotevska and Ljubomir elegantly navigate the Macedonian landscape by showing us the whole scope of the area, from a minimalist focus on two bees mating, to a large overhead shot of monstrous fires in the middle of the mountains, to the delicacy of Hatidze’s handling of the bees. They utilize the natural beauty of the sun to create magnificent silhouettes, cascading shadows, and intimate looks at the faces of its subjects, invoking the complicated stress, happiness, and loneliness Hatidze faces. Kotevska and Stefanov give us a type of visual storytelling rare for documentaries. Instead of lengthy interviews or voiceover narration, the information we receive from this film is from simply watching and digesting.
The effectiveness of the visual storytelling adds another jarring layer when the intruding family arrives on scene. Using the same elements that made us truly understand the Macedonian landscape, we also get a better appreciation of the slowness in which Hatidze operates and the lengths she goes to protect the very thing helping her survive when we see her efforts threatened. As we watch the intrusive family move around and destroy everything in their path, the film slowly becomes a plea to us about how we can better treat our environment. It puts us in the shoes of Hatidze, feeling more and more helpless as these careless farmers exterminate the remaining bee population.
With Honeyland’s emphasis on visual storytelling, there is a non-traditional factor within it that makes Honeyland feel like a slice of a life feature film rather than a full-blown documentary, supported by the non-intrusiveness of the camera and the curious amount of trust Hatidze has for the camera crew. There is never a time in the film in which Hatidze acknowledges the camera. This lack of acknowledgment allows us as viewers to just watch Hatidze mind her own business. By having no one recall their past to us, we feel as if we are with Hatidze as we watch and digest her movements. It’s exhilarating, stunning, yet heartbreaking as we watch Hatidze struggle, knowing we can do nothing but watch. We watch her work, we watch her battle, we watch her struggle, we watch her do everything.
Thus, despite the visually stunning shots or its plea to be more environmentally conscious, at its core, Honeyland highlights the life of a resilient woman. Even though we only experience a sliver of the roller coaster this intrusive family has caused her to go on, we come out knowing that through her determination, she will somehow find her way past these obstacles. During the 85 minutes we spend with Hatidze, we understand the nuances of what makes her strong and unique, and through it all, we become more in awe of her determination to keep her family (the bees and her mother) alive as her world crumbles around her. As the film came to close, I found myself at a pause. How can someone so kind and so resilient be forced to live through such a heart-wrenching moment of life? Despite not getting my answer, I felt appreciative that I know that someone like her exists.
3.75/5 STARS