THE STORY – A farmer’s bond with a white stork intertwines with North Macedonian folklore.
THE CAST – Aleksandar Conev, Nikola Conev, Aleksandra Coneva, Ilina Coneva, Jana Coneva, Stojco Filipov & Ile Stojkovski
THE TEAM – Tamara Kotevska (Director)
THE RUNNING TIME – 80 Minutes
The world of documentary filmmaking is vast, offering countless ways for storytellers to bring truth to life. Some filmmakers rely on talking heads to explain and explore their subjects, while others take a more investigative, on-the-ground approach, capturing events as they unfold. Some, like Michael Moore, step in front of the camera to serve as audience surrogates. Each method shapes how the story is told and how we receive it. However, one of the most demanding —and often most rewarding —approaches is the invisible one: the filmmaker who disappears entirely, allowing life to unfold naturally before the lens. Academy Award-nominated director Tamara Kotevska (“Honeyland“) has mastered that art with “The Tale of Silyan,” a ravishing, deeply human work that serves as both a poetic journey through Macedonian life and a universal meditation on endurance, belonging, and change.
The film draws inspiration from a 17th-century fable about a boy named Silyan who, weary of his family’s backbreaking labor, dreams of escape. His father, angered by his son’s yearning, curses him to turn into a bird so that he’ll never see him again. Struck by lightning, Silyan transforms into a white stork. In Kotevska’s film, this ancient story is heard through a single haunting narration, the only voiceover in the documentary, before we’re immersed in the modern tale of Nikola, a farmer whose struggles echo Silyan’s in every way but the supernatural.
In the village of Češinovo, Macedonia, which has the largest white stork population in the country, farmers like Nikola are being crushed by government policies that render their high-yield crops virtually worthless. Despite healthy harvests, the food goes unsold. Generations of families who have lived and worked on this land are forced to sell their property and seek work elsewhere to survive. Nikola’s adult children depart for Germany, urging their mother to follow, but Nikola cannot bring himself to abandon the soil that has defined his life.
What elevates “The Tale of Silyan” beyond most documentaries is Jean Dakar’s extraordinary cinematography. Every frame, shot with staggering clarity, is alive with texture and light. The golden-hour hues, the quiet vistas, and the graceful movements of storks in flight transform simple observation into visual poetry. The imagery is so rich and alive that it transcends mere documentation, becoming a metaphor for the resilience and longing of the people it depicts. Kotevska’s camera is utterly invisible, unobtrusive, and patient, never once betraying its presence. There are no interviews, no explanatory text, no retakes. What remains feels pure and uncorrupted, truth caught in its natural state.
The pacing is unhurried, allowing the film to breathe. Viewers accustomed to more conventional narrative cues may find it slow, but its quiet tempo feels essential. Within its silences lies immense tenderness. Despite his hardships, Nikola’s life is filled with small acts of love and friendship, shared laughter with a fellow out-of-work farmer, and gentle care for an injured stork he nurses back to health. There’s something profoundly moving about seeing this weathered man, burdened by circumstance, finding grace in his compassion for both people and animals.
Though set in rural Macedonia, Nikola’s story resonates far beyond its borders. Around the world, farmers are facing similar struggles, battling unjust systems and corporate indifference while clinging to their livelihoods. “The Tale of Silyan” becomes not just a portrait of one man’s endurance but a testament to human resilience everywhere. Blending myth and realism with exquisite sensitivity, Kotevska crafts a work of rare poetic power, a film that observes, listens, and ultimately illuminates the quiet, stubborn beauty of life itself.
