[REL] Elias of het gevecht met de nachtegalen (1991)

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[REL] Elias of het gevecht met de nachtegalen (1991)

Post by jezevex »   64 likes

Very rare movie. I'm not interested in the scene that RFF mentions, but in the older (probably 13 y.o.) cousin.




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Re: [REL] Elias of het gevecht met de nachtegalen (1991)

Post by plonkah »   0 likes

Thanks Jeevex
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Re: [REL] Elias of het gevecht met de nachtegalen (1991)

Post by ferdi111 »   1 likes

Thank you :)

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Re: [REL] Elias of het gevecht met de nachtegalen (1991)

Post by pillowbaker »   3 likes

Thanks you jezevex and ferdi. This film Elias (I have seen it written as Elias, or the Struggle with the Nightingales) looks oddly interesting, mystifying even. I suspect it may start out with a boy, actually a couple of boys, but I anticipate and spiritedly expect there to be a cute girl that shows up once things get going.

From imdb
Elias has hardly left his childhood behind him than he is sent to boarding school with his older cousin. But before that he spends his holidays on the isolated estate belonging to his family, a little group fully out of touch with the world.
I am not sure what drew me to this, but I saw it was based on a novel by Maurice Gilliams, and I was able to find it fairly easily online, but only in the original Dutch.

The book has this reticent, atmospheric narrative, and it's incredible how deepL seems to be capturing it! The writing displays as a definite prose of reminiscence. I thought google translate and deepL did great with the children's books, but please look at this. The flow of language is lovely. I suspect that the machine translators are better at Dutch to English than it is for many other languages. I have only had to gently edit the following passage. To me, the opening line is astonishing.
deepL wrote:I
When Aloysius troubles our hearts, we hang upside down in reality like enchanted monkeys. He is sixteen and over four years older than me. In bed at night we fold paper boats, which we float out the next day on the creek by the estate. Hidden under the covers, Aloysius is fiddling, I suspect with a pencil. Without showing himself to me, he reaches out to me, one by one, the cahier sheets, in which I regularly make the same folds. Of course, I do not understand the secret laws of this curious game and I blindly help him in his operations.

I do not understand why he wants to help me wash in the morning; he does it very roughly and the soap bites my eyes, and how sparing of water he is. His hands are scratched and his dry, crusty lower lip has been stained by the fever.

- The boats! he says diligently.

We drop the towel and jump at the same time to the bed; from between the sheets, at the foot of the bed, we collect them. A few have become unusable, and one cannot be found in the overturned bedsheets. Aloysius hides them like secret documents under his blouse and we run down the stairs to the second floor, where we go to say good morning to grandmother through a crack in the door.

After breakfast we are soon in the park.

We penetrate the undergrowth and stand for a while shivering amidst the dewy green. It is a windy corner here. Now and then I sense the fingers of Aloysius and I understand the intimate meaning of his steady grip. We creep up between the creaking branches, listening. Is anything there? It was only a wild pigeon taking flight. It is rainy and the sky becomes evenly gray.

It's available online here:

What do you think?
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