FILM REVIEW: Daughters of the Dust by Jill Hardy
Images courtesy of Cohen media.
The images of Julie Dash’s visually mesmerizing Daughters of the Dust could tell a story all their own, even without the unique dialogue that accompanies them. From the opening frames, the tone of the movie is set by the waves of the sea, the palm trees, Spanish moss...you can almost feel the sand under your feet. Dash’s story of a family on the brink of change at the turn of the twentieth century is a vehicle for both a glimpse of the unique Gullah culture of the southeastern coast of the United States and an examination of how people are both individuals, who need to seek their own happiness, and parts of a greater whole. The plot centers on the Peazant family, who live on an island off the coast of Georgia. The relative geographical isolation has meant that family members have mostly stayed close through the years, but a move is in the works that would remove the younger generations to the mainland, with the exception of the family matriarch, Nana Peazant. The return of two very different women— Viola and Yellow Mary—to gather with the entire family one last time on the island represents the type of changes that contact
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with the outside world may bring. Viola has become a fervent Christian, adopting orthodoxy not common to the island, and paints the move as a consciousness expanding journey. Yellow Mary has lived a life marked by hard circumstances and loss, and brings a young woman back with her who is hinted to be her lover. Their voices balance the vision of what life off the island will be, and serve to moderate the dreams and address the hesitations that the other family members have. Although insular and conducive to cultural preservations that have strengthened its members, the island is by no means depicted as a pristine paradise. The elders’ indigo stained hands and Nana Peazant’s stories serve as reminders that slavery was the genesis of their community, and the movie’s narrator, the Unborn Child, is the baby carried by Eula, who was raped and doesn’t know if the baby is her husband’s or her attacker’s. Dash’s vision is singular, and the pacing, while slow, is perfect for what this film is—ideas set to the background of a place and time. Who goes to a new place in the hopes of
achieving the most possible, and who stays in the place that grounds you? How do you respond when your dreams don’t turn out the way you planned? Where is the line between honoring your ancestors, the people who brought you to this point and time in your life, and seeking out what is best for you as an individual? Are they really that far apart? Does everyone have the same answer? Many—probably most—movies that appeal to the art lover in us are trying to do what this director does, and not many achieve it. Non-linear storytelling in Daughters of the Dust means that you have to work a little harder as a viewer, to piece together bits of information about characters and timelines. You also have to listen more closely, since the movie’s dialogue is in Gullah dialect— but this is a different film experience. Let yourself be immersed and you’ll find yourself thinking about the macro ideas in each individual’s story and the overall narrative for quite a while after it’s over. n Jill Hardy is a freelance writer and can be reached at jdhardy4@msn.com.