Is Spirit of the Beehive one of the only times in cinema history where a work of art was directly influenced by a censors cut to another film?
For those who don't know, Whale's Frankenstein for many years (and certainly at the time this was set, 1940, hell I even suspect when they made Beehive in 1973) was missing those several seconds where Karloff's Monster chucks the young girl into the pond - in his undead bubble-headed brain, the Monster thinks he's following the little girl's lead as she throws little flowers into the water he will do the same. When he sees she is drowning, he freaks out and absconds, with her father carrying her body totally distraught that someone killed her. Without that scene in the movie, this little girl Ana (played by Ana Torent) is like everyone else in the world, having to fill in the gap that's left in those several seconds with ones own imagination.
Why wouldn't one think the Monster killed the little girl, or worse? If only Ana got to see it post restoration of the cut. Maybe she'd be better off... or not? It's not that this hangs over every single moment of the rest of Beehive, but it does make an impact on how she sees this moment and her faith in Frankenstein carries over into how she sees spirituality as a whole. Not to mention, more concretely, is that moment of solitude where Ana is by herself and sees that giant footprint in the earth by that little farmhouse and the field. Is it the Monster's footprint? Why not, if you have the mind and soul to believe in it? ::insert the I saw your footprints on the beach and etc etc faith::
I didn't write more about this until thinking a few days extra about it, which is the nice thing about a website like this where you can ruminate and your first thoughts aren't a final edit. What makes The Spirit of the Beehive a remarkable and absorbing film are qualities that would make it stand distinctly from other films today (even those by one of its greatest admirers, Guillermo del Toro, who called it practically "autobiography" on social media and in appreciations over the years, and it's influence on Devil's Backbone and Labyrinth can't not be seen). It's a film that has dialog and scenes where we hear voiceovers, like from Ana's parents as they write in journals, but it's very sparse by a certain point and the final half hour largely functions like a haunted silent-era film, albeit with sound effects of the wind and the lovely score very important points of the cinematic soundscape.
It's a film that has to tell its story this way in some part because the performer playing Ana (also her name, I suspect this was not totally coincidence) is a non professional actor and how she appears in scenes is kind of withdrawn and observant and quiet, and that also has to do with this character. Perhaps withdrawn is too strong of a phrase - introspective is a better word for it, someone who may be told before a movie like Frankenstein plays what it's supposed to represent in her corner of the world of Franco-era Spain, but there's something more monumental going on with a story where a being is brought back to life and (seemingly) inexplicably kills. Why should the Monster kill and destroy? Can't the Monster be kind or even just neutral, for someone else (ie a little girl) to connect with if he got a chance? Not when society gets a hold of him, no sir. Her identification, as I try best I can to read into it, with this film - despite being told it's "fake" - sticks so strongly that when another "outsider" of the soldier comes to that abandoned house and, after she sees him, gets shot for being a desserter late in the story, she just can't take it anymore and runs away.
Another part of why the film is shown like this is simply because it makes for a more interesting reading if, as I suspect, director Victor Erice wants us to try to meet it halfway and to leave things for us to figure out for ourselves. It could mean that the little girl becomes disillusioned with spirituality and faith. Maybe something breaks in her where she believes so strongly. Maybe her sister shouldn't play a prank on her and play dead and draw it out for so long, as she does about midway through. Or she simply can't take being part of this "beehive" of the world and how people are expected to be and behave and do this or that. It's ultimately more on a first viewing a profound film intellectually speaking, like the meat on what's on its mind is strong. Emotionally it was slightly more distant for me, though the music and power of the lighting in some scenes was moving, like seeing paintings of innocence and haunted malaise come to life.
The Spirit of the Beehive is a fascinating, gorgeously rendered tale of youth and belief and faith. Masterpiece? I leave for you to decide.
For those who don't know, Whale's Frankenstein for many years (and certainly at the time this was set, 1940, hell I even suspect when they made Beehive in 1973) was missing those several seconds where Karloff's Monster chucks the young girl into the pond - in his undead bubble-headed brain, the Monster thinks he's following the little girl's lead as she throws little flowers into the water he will do the same. When he sees she is drowning, he freaks out and absconds, with her father carrying her body totally distraught that someone killed her. Without that scene in the movie, this little girl Ana (played by Ana Torent) is like everyone else in the world, having to fill in the gap that's left in those several seconds with ones own imagination.
Why wouldn't one think the Monster killed the little girl, or worse? If only Ana got to see it post restoration of the cut. Maybe she'd be better off... or not? It's not that this hangs over every single moment of the rest of Beehive, but it does make an impact on how she sees this moment and her faith in Frankenstein carries over into how she sees spirituality as a whole. Not to mention, more concretely, is that moment of solitude where Ana is by herself and sees that giant footprint in the earth by that little farmhouse and the field. Is it the Monster's footprint? Why not, if you have the mind and soul to believe in it? ::insert the I saw your footprints on the beach and etc etc faith::
I didn't write more about this until thinking a few days extra about it, which is the nice thing about a website like this where you can ruminate and your first thoughts aren't a final edit. What makes The Spirit of the Beehive a remarkable and absorbing film are qualities that would make it stand distinctly from other films today (even those by one of its greatest admirers, Guillermo del Toro, who called it practically "autobiography" on social media and in appreciations over the years, and it's influence on Devil's Backbone and Labyrinth can't not be seen). It's a film that has dialog and scenes where we hear voiceovers, like from Ana's parents as they write in journals, but it's very sparse by a certain point and the final half hour largely functions like a haunted silent-era film, albeit with sound effects of the wind and the lovely score very important points of the cinematic soundscape.
It's a film that has to tell its story this way in some part because the performer playing Ana (also her name, I suspect this was not totally coincidence) is a non professional actor and how she appears in scenes is kind of withdrawn and observant and quiet, and that also has to do with this character. Perhaps withdrawn is too strong of a phrase - introspective is a better word for it, someone who may be told before a movie like Frankenstein plays what it's supposed to represent in her corner of the world of Franco-era Spain, but there's something more monumental going on with a story where a being is brought back to life and (seemingly) inexplicably kills. Why should the Monster kill and destroy? Can't the Monster be kind or even just neutral, for someone else (ie a little girl) to connect with if he got a chance? Not when society gets a hold of him, no sir. Her identification, as I try best I can to read into it, with this film - despite being told it's "fake" - sticks so strongly that when another "outsider" of the soldier comes to that abandoned house and, after she sees him, gets shot for being a desserter late in the story, she just can't take it anymore and runs away.
Another part of why the film is shown like this is simply because it makes for a more interesting reading if, as I suspect, director Victor Erice wants us to try to meet it halfway and to leave things for us to figure out for ourselves. It could mean that the little girl becomes disillusioned with spirituality and faith. Maybe something breaks in her where she believes so strongly. Maybe her sister shouldn't play a prank on her and play dead and draw it out for so long, as she does about midway through. Or she simply can't take being part of this "beehive" of the world and how people are expected to be and behave and do this or that. It's ultimately more on a first viewing a profound film intellectually speaking, like the meat on what's on its mind is strong. Emotionally it was slightly more distant for me, though the music and power of the lighting in some scenes was moving, like seeing paintings of innocence and haunted malaise come to life.
The Spirit of the Beehive is a fascinating, gorgeously rendered tale of youth and belief and faith. Masterpiece? I leave for you to decide.