Daughters in the Dust is one of those rare movies that truly makes you wonder long and hard about the possibilities of the film form. The film as pure narrative leaves much to be desired; yet it's is not concerned about telling the intricate and sentimental goings-on of one or two human beings; a single tale told in one moment in time. No, the film's scope is much wider and anthropological in scale, thus requires more than just a passing judgment on its entertainment value.
The film concerns itself with the Peazant family; proud members of Gullah creoles who originated from slaves traded along the remote islets of South Carolina and Georgia. Even before the Civil War generations of the Gullah people lived quietly as rice farmers on these islands and thanks in large part to regional isolation they were able to rebuild and retain much of the linguistic, cultural and religious heritage that had been wiped out by the slave trade. By 1901, the Peazants are mulling over the idea of relocating to the mainland.
The film has the narrative distinction of being told from the perspective of an unnamed and unborn member of the Peazants played by Kay-Lynn Warren. At only four, the young Warren peeks through the hole of her family's history only appearing twice herself as a sprite. We meet her pregnant mother Eula (Rogers), her aunts Haagar (Moore), Viola (Bruce) and Yellow Mary (Barbara-O) as well as Nana (Day) the matriarch of the family. Nana is old enough to remember the scourge of slavery and as a result is resonant to move to the mainland. Meanwhile Haagar is the strongest advocate for the move saying "If Nana wants to live and die on this island, then God bless her old soul." Two members of the clan have already moved away; Viola who moved to Philadelphia to become a ardent Christian; and Yellow Mary, who according to Viola is a "wasted woman".
Despite showcasing a family hungry for change and progress, the film gives proper reverence to the traditions of the Gullah people. The most respected people on the island are the elders who consist of Nana and Bilal Muhammad (Abdurrahman) the resident mullah. The spiritual ceremonies of the family relies on a mixture of Christianity, Islam and African animism that gives everything natural around them a lyrical quality. Yet underneath the pleasant depictions of sun-soaked beaches and marshy lowlands the internal conflict behind the eyes of the Peazants can't help but surface during communal gatherings. "We are two people in one body," says Nana as she defies the rest of the family who hope to travel north with their hopes and dreams.
If there is one glaring problem with Daughters of the Dust it's its expectations of the viewer. During production director Julie Dash wanted to keep the authenticity of the people intact and thus had actors speak only in the Gullah dialect and didn't consider subtitles. A minority of audience members may find this tact a mesmerizing exercise in linguistics. A feeling not unlike hearing the warm familiar sounds of your parents speaking while you were a toddler. From a purely anthropological perspective this was the best narrative choice one could hope for, allowing those with patience further rewards with repeated viewings. Unfortunately if you're not one of patience or a strong interest in anthropology or etymology you might find yourself distracted and looking for other stimuli.
There are many ways to read a movie of this nature. Most movies start and end with a graspable narrative, quick and easy explanations to plot details and an clear resolution. Daughters of the Dust doesn't let you off the hook with easy solutions. It instead asks serious questions. Questions that highlight the consequences of modernity's encroachment on tradition, cultural identity, cross-generational turmoil and diaspora. Furthermore the movie gives willing audiences a sense of belonging among the Gullah people; a warmth you seldom feel on the screen. It also does so in a very spirited and exquisite way featuring some of the most lyrical visual storytelling $800,000 can buy.
The film concerns itself with the Peazant family; proud members of Gullah creoles who originated from slaves traded along the remote islets of South Carolina and Georgia. Even before the Civil War generations of the Gullah people lived quietly as rice farmers on these islands and thanks in large part to regional isolation they were able to rebuild and retain much of the linguistic, cultural and religious heritage that had been wiped out by the slave trade. By 1901, the Peazants are mulling over the idea of relocating to the mainland.
The film has the narrative distinction of being told from the perspective of an unnamed and unborn member of the Peazants played by Kay-Lynn Warren. At only four, the young Warren peeks through the hole of her family's history only appearing twice herself as a sprite. We meet her pregnant mother Eula (Rogers), her aunts Haagar (Moore), Viola (Bruce) and Yellow Mary (Barbara-O) as well as Nana (Day) the matriarch of the family. Nana is old enough to remember the scourge of slavery and as a result is resonant to move to the mainland. Meanwhile Haagar is the strongest advocate for the move saying "If Nana wants to live and die on this island, then God bless her old soul." Two members of the clan have already moved away; Viola who moved to Philadelphia to become a ardent Christian; and Yellow Mary, who according to Viola is a "wasted woman".
Despite showcasing a family hungry for change and progress, the film gives proper reverence to the traditions of the Gullah people. The most respected people on the island are the elders who consist of Nana and Bilal Muhammad (Abdurrahman) the resident mullah. The spiritual ceremonies of the family relies on a mixture of Christianity, Islam and African animism that gives everything natural around them a lyrical quality. Yet underneath the pleasant depictions of sun-soaked beaches and marshy lowlands the internal conflict behind the eyes of the Peazants can't help but surface during communal gatherings. "We are two people in one body," says Nana as she defies the rest of the family who hope to travel north with their hopes and dreams.
If there is one glaring problem with Daughters of the Dust it's its expectations of the viewer. During production director Julie Dash wanted to keep the authenticity of the people intact and thus had actors speak only in the Gullah dialect and didn't consider subtitles. A minority of audience members may find this tact a mesmerizing exercise in linguistics. A feeling not unlike hearing the warm familiar sounds of your parents speaking while you were a toddler. From a purely anthropological perspective this was the best narrative choice one could hope for, allowing those with patience further rewards with repeated viewings. Unfortunately if you're not one of patience or a strong interest in anthropology or etymology you might find yourself distracted and looking for other stimuli.
There are many ways to read a movie of this nature. Most movies start and end with a graspable narrative, quick and easy explanations to plot details and an clear resolution. Daughters of the Dust doesn't let you off the hook with easy solutions. It instead asks serious questions. Questions that highlight the consequences of modernity's encroachment on tradition, cultural identity, cross-generational turmoil and diaspora. Furthermore the movie gives willing audiences a sense of belonging among the Gullah people; a warmth you seldom feel on the screen. It also does so in a very spirited and exquisite way featuring some of the most lyrical visual storytelling $800,000 can buy.