The Spirit of the Beehive (1973): A Study of Trauma and a Very Clever Attack Against a Fascistic Regime
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Victor Erice’s 1973 debut, The Spirit of the Beehive, always stuck in my mind as a movie with some real artistry, belonging in discussions of the greatest films of all time. It had been eons since I last saw it, and my memory had dimmed enough that, to work out where to put it on a “best of all time” list, a rewatch was needed.
It was the kind of rewatch where I felt in a rush to reacquaint myself with it at first, and its slow pace felt at cross-purposes with that goal. My movie-saturated noggin, and my ever-shifting perspectives on life and art as I get older, often make me feel the need to rewatch movies to confirm they are still as good as I remember them.
It was also the kind of rewatch that by the end of the viewing, I was more than glad to have it bright and clear in my mind again. It is a beautiful and politically brave work of art, and the kind of movie that, though its world feels desolate and spiritually grief-stricken, its message has a good and inspirational energy.
The movie is quiet and slow paced, though its runtime is only 98 minutes. It is complex storytelling that builds a perspective that reminds you what it was like to be a child, including the constant threat of boredom. The movie could be said to be on some levels, at least until what it is saying becomes clear, boring — though sweet, emotionally complex, and shot superbly well.
As the story develops, it takes on greater character and interest, and becomes more directly engaging.
The plot follows a family living in a small village in Spain in the immediate aftermath of the Spanish Civil War, 1940. Two sisters, six-year-old Ana and her elder sister Isabel, live in a farm house with their parents, Fernando and Teresa. Fernando is a beekeeper and poet, and spends his time absorbed in these occupations, emotionally removed and in something that strikes as a traumatised-but-technically-functional condition.
The presence of the Spanish nationalists and their instruments of state in post-Civil War Spain is subtly portrayed, from the countryside. This technique of making the evil force almost invisible likely helped the film be released there in the late years…
