Bellavista

Bellavista – der Name, den so viele Hotels in Bergorten tragen – ist auch der Name eines Hotels im abgelegenen Sappada (Pladen, Plodn), einer Sprachinsel in den Karnischen Alpen in Norditalien, unweit der Grenze zu Österreich.
Giuliana, die einzige Tochter des Hoteliers Piero und seiner Frau Diana, Jahrgang 1957, geboren in Sappada, lebt nach Aufenthalten im Ausland, Germanisti-Studium, zwei schweren Unfällen und dem Tod zweier Brüder wieder bei ihrer Familie im Bellavista. Ihr jüngster Bruder führt – zusammen mit der Mutter – das Hotel.
Neben ihrer Arbeit in der Hotelküche erforscht und dokumentiert sie seit mehr als zwei Jahrzehnten den Dialekt des Plodarischen, mit dem sie seit ihrer Kindheit vertraut ist. Der Film begleitet sie bei ihren Besuchen bei den Alten und zu den versteckten Orten ihrer Kindheit.
Giuliana bewegt sich durch das Dorf entlang ihrer eigenen Lebenslinien. Sichtbare Marksteine werden Erinnerungszeichen für Lebensabschnitte. Auf der Suche nach dem „kreativen Raum als Rettung“, wie sie es ausdrückt, wird sie mit der Widersprüchlichkeit und Zerrissenheit ihrer eigenen Lebensgeschichte konfrontiert. Ihre Suche steht für eine neue, heute oft einzig mögliche Existenzweise: den Versuch, die eigene Kindheit nicht aus den Augen zu verlieren.

(Produktionsnotiz)

Weitere Texte

BELLAVISTA, English Dialogues

It was here that this realization of being different took hold

to be condemned to eternal lonelyness

it was precisely this being different that has then...

(leader):

Giuliana Pachner
Bernardina Piller-Puicher
Erminia Colle Tiz

filmed by
Peter Schreiner



Nearly all memories are of people,
of customers and eating downstairs
....for hours- you know,
when one gets married and such




One soon got the notion,
of having only been brought into this world,
to serve the hotel



The first time- this is very important, I believe-
when I opened the door on my own,
..the heavy door downstairs-


I have a very clear image of that handle,
Which struck me as huge, ever so high and heavy-



…but one had to learn that in an instant,
to get away -



somehow it reminds me of my hand-
...with those same fingers



slowly I begin perceiving her as one would a tree


- I also see a woman
.. a woman’s body

with strong roots-

I am convinced, I was happy then

…that was when I began to experience joy, I believe


- it lastet, until I was ten
then I felt Barbara’s love,
.. the warmth
and her youth


look, at those hands-
..strong, sturdy hands-






Don’t touch!



I was already in here
When people still lived here-

Really?

Yes!

And what kind of memories do you have of it?

I envied them

the house
that timber
the tranquillity

I was so little


Such a house told me so much more

It also recounts in “Plodar”
Do you understand?


That means, you can feel…


my childhood


If you had thirty more years to study...

yes, if only it were like that!

I would be able to teach them

could you convince them

if I had been able to learn so much

They say: all that wit makes you stupid

yes, all that sensiblity drives you crazy

that’s how people are

you know, it reverses the order

yes, it becomes sillier


it’s more like antiquity

I am the antiquity


this is a very old custom


that is why I am the antiquity

that’s how it was done once upon a time

different times

ancient times

nowadays so much is amiss

these days you don’t consider knitting your own stockings anymore

one just throws everything out

nowadays nobody mends things any longer

they just chuck it out..

and get new stuff

such is the disparity of the world

of the ages

now I have to begin,
to decrease the stitches...

what do you want to do?

you can’t do a thing

you have to live with that modern world

now that we are already so old

one isn’t quite that keen anymore

everything is a bit of a rush - alle sind nervös...
everyone is nervous

nobody takes time anymore


it used to be so nice

a parlour full of spinning-wheels

windlasses with wool on them

what a good life

single

cheerful

quiet

no fuss

like today

these days everything is a fuss

well, most of it, anyway

no, no

these days everyone is sad

they all used to be so merry

singing, dancing, laughing

today...oh, cut it out!

as if they had to carry the world on their shoulders

there is nothing one can do

many things used to be blessed

so many things

such is life




Lord, bless your sons





I had to work,
as if there were many


My father didn’t spare me
He said:
Out and to work with you!


nothing you could do about that

sure, my siblings had died
and he wanted to continue with the farm

he treated me like a boy


I had to do all the work (works), all!


Forever, always, good lord!


we didn’t have it easy


dragging the dung, and everything..
- and all that…




It’s almost a vertical drop


yes, but this was always the benefit


to be able to look at things differently
to gain another perspective




After the death of my brother, Maurizio,

there was this peciuliar feeling



I used to come down at night,
To fetch an apple and such



but I couldn’t enter anymore
because somehow a very powerful energy held me back



There on the left- do you see


there is the gruesome handmincingmachine
where I stuck my hand in


it was a different part,
with which one minced meat


but the same central body


for a while then I really hated the kitchen




back then we probably only spoke “Plodar”
my brothers and I
surely


a timeless place
practical

No, it isn’t a specific place


I believe, it is a kind of dimension, you know?

which we will enter again sometimes, later on



we are taking it along with us
and occasionally it comes up again





when everything still seemed possible
when everything was still whole



half past one!



when I was born

she married my father, which is where
it began, the story

- Barbara -


There were still four of us- look!


this ist really
unity- longing for the completeness



somehow- as if we were one single unit


One can literally die of an excess of buoyancy
I’m not sure whether you know what I mean

strange


I believe,
one can’t endure that
after a while


Maurizio makes me laugh
He was so…


hundreds of things he has..


…there was always something happening..

- Bajazzo-


I couldn’t say much about myself
....what I thought back then-

- da hab ich sie nur sehr geliebt...
...das weiß ich -
- I just loved them very much
that I know-

And somehow the tragedy was already contained
you know?


somehow

it is like a predetermined disaster

..you can’t be that happy for long…

it was even in the papers
-

I don’t want to have anything to do with such people


Ines told of it

no, Minja

not, as if something like that could cause a state of shock in a child


it affects your whole life

you just don’t know

it is not because of the shooting

you do know how to shoot..

who knows?

to tell you the truth

listen- children have to witness something like that more often..

such experiences

when they quarrel and fight at home

that’s not the same

but a shot

if the terror ist that awful, some of it is retained




everything has changed

nobody wants a country kitchen anymore
people smell of it


that granny still had a farm house kitchen

there in the picture


when she came over, everything smelled of smoke

but smoke does rise

“like a roof”

Yes, today I have been cutting the grass
For an hour


it makes you tired
you sweat

and it is dumb work..


we do have, too
but they rather speak Italian


I don’t know


but it is a pity, that it is getting lost

the old language

the “Island language”

they lived modestly

polenta every day


but it doesn’t grow here-
it is from Friaul

only potatoes grow here

a poor country


that’s the way it is

now we are the old people

this is me

and the other one is Bernardina

the one in the black dress

it is strange

this is a place I dream of, very often

you know?


around here

it was like an epic

back then


this almost collective work

all thoughts disappear

when you do physical work

everyone was dwelling on their own thoughts

I, too, wanted to be like the men

I didn’t make it


once I dreamed, that we were flying through the forest


I felt terribly nostalgic then, you know


in this forest

dreamed


we were flying right over the woods

that was entirely…




it vanishes


the culture of the “Plodar”

vanishes


everything gets lost


the jobs of the past


the language

of long ago


the ancients die


everything becomes extinct


it’s a completely different world


it doesn’t work anymore


too bad


shame, Giuliana


what are you going to do


in a few years,


once the old people passed on

us old ones

not much “Plodar” will be spoken in our houses, I think


Much of it is no longer understood,
Even though I speak Plodaric


Huh?

I don’t understand a thing!


Sure, “I don’t understand a thing“…


Give them a kick!


Learn!- I say…


take care!


Learn already, you damn idiots!


It is a pity..


that is true!


I can’t stand it


.. I would have to give lessons
and say:
come over here, all of you!

I’ll teach you “Plodar”


remain right here at the table and we shall begin


that’s right!-


I would teach them


that would be a good idea


I would be strict


They could learn Italian later on


yes later, as much as you want


that is true


but what can you do

it is not possible


they talk Italian in the kindergarden


they talk Italian at school


then they come home and there are italian parents


it won’t work any other way

Don’t you think this would be possible?


who knows


a spark of phantasy, a little contemplation


who knows



this is hot

I’m going now

Should we prepare something to eat for Piero?

wait, it will come to me

otherwise the other one will make a fuss

you think so?

they will come soon
I’ve locked upstairs

not that it matters





I can’t find myself

maybe I am covered by the tree

I can’t see myself



that was really such an

essential condition for survival –

not letting oneself be that bothered by appearances

or

being conquered


they had taken away your space


but couldn’t steal your dialect


and a guest in there


in that sense he is also a place like that


you understand?


a path, which somehow takes you away


into the open


this is important


the direction and the light
remained the same


in the process one tends to forget

the small as well as the bigger worries and trepidations




they were all so content and


imagined things


it seemed nearly impossible to me


it couldn’t be,


that young people


without choices, hardly knowing anything


decide, to grow old in a village like this


without having seen a thing or learned


I believe, it has something to do with the village,


not just the inn





now and at the hour of our death, amen


Glory be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Ghost, now and for ever and all eternity






Have you ever contemplated going away?

No- what?

Well, going away or doing something else

No

Did that never occur to you?

No

Living differently

How would you like to live?

Going away and doing a different kind of work

I’d rather stay at home







among the farmers it was like that

they even wanted me to marry a rich farmer

my parents would have loved to see that

even more work!

discovering oneself


there was a time when people used to value something like that


it was like that


thereby


life is full of occurences

you can see it too

and everyone has to take it like that

the way one has begun, one has to go on

and now, at the end

I am old


it is difficult

it is hard

to master life properly

you can’t always take care of everything


there are times,
when you should be sad

but you can’t be sad all the time!

you have to throw everything from a mountain
throw everything from a mountain and into a valley

they used to say

the sadness

that’s the way you have to do it

then life becomes easier






inbetween there is a face

how arrogant I was back then

what pride and

actually I came into the world quite rich

I thought, the whole world was mine

I could do everything

I actually had delusions

that really was a really good clout behind the ears

you discover, what’s in you

suddenly a void

all friends and suitors run away


from such a monster

that was really monstrous

this half

on this side I was the same

Picasso

a different person

maybe it reflects my soul too

you can also become such a monster through drink

destroy yourself

more than just physically, I think..


without pain



the dialect was

almost unbearable

because it confined me so much to that place


and I wanted to get away

probably from the dialect too

from this
sticky dependency

gooey warmth





When they were making hay
there was a pond

and there were young girls

who were spending the nights in the barn above

and they always went to the pond,

to comb their hair and to wash

they had long hair


and people said from afar: “Witches!”

“There are the witches…“

that’s how it became “witches’ pond” to this day

they are still talking about it

but they were no witches

merely girls, brushing their hair

and washing a little

spending the nights in the loft of the barn,
where they stored the hay


My mother said,
they used to tell her

long before,


yes, that was a long time ago
nowadays such things no longer happen
those people must surely have been hallucinating

No!

There was something!


You think, they would vividly recount things,
That never were?

they’ve imagined it like that

No!



as if I had no face at all

look!

what followed...




at that point I already had to make my decision, so to speak

for life





it’s a long time ago, that we were kids

ages

for a time, when we were children,
we used to believe in things like that

the “Wild Danger“ in the night

“don’t go outside!“

the “Wild Danger” seizes you, carries you away..

you won’t find home anymore
starving to death

wild animals grab you

nowadays, there is none of that anymore

they thought we were stupid

dumb



isn’t it awful, this weather




Is he going to look for wild mushrooms?

in this weather…

hard luck, it’s raining on his only day off






yes, she is a disbeliever

she always says: “there is no such thing“


yes, but she says, she herself has been afraid,

of the wretched souls….

that is a contradiction

I’m not afraid of the wretched souls…

I pray to them every day

and she says, that she doesn’t believe in it,
but she is scared of it...

I believe in it!

one has to believe …

that there is another world…

yes, sure…

not- as they say-: “there is simply nothing“…

One has to believe, that there is something after all!

that’s what I think…

What would be the point of suffering?

where would

I’m thinking of my brothers

where would all the memories go,
all the dreams, all hope, you ever had...

that it all ends in the grave

that’s just not possible…

not possible…

all the desperation, all the bothers in life…

All in vain?

that just can’t be

don’t you think, that it is their own conscience?

No, no!

thumping and kicking up a breeze..

seems to me

that you imagine something like that

and say to the others:
tonight I have heard some noise

a shot or something

if it wasn’t reality, my dear!



everyone has their name on it..

every cook…

wanted it…

that was also my brother’s name, how strange

standing here, one looks like Christ..

like a crucifixion…

that has something to do with the nails,
with the Passion

If you hold on to these two things here,
then it is like a crucifixion....look!

you only have to do this




I don’t arrange anything, because I don’t know, if they are going to come





I could never say that…

“have you eaten enough?

Do you want some more of it?

I already refused that when I was eight

Piero beat me, but it didn’t work
I didn’t want to, in the dining hall

rather the whole trouble down there in the kitchen,
than this false servile behaviour

I can’t do it






Come on in!

it is very steep

Watch out!

this is the loo

now we are going up to the hayloft...




Don’t touch!





they are waiting, somehow




as it was in the beginning, Is now, and ever shall be, world without end. Amen



the first place, where they searched for me,
was here

whenever something wasn’t right
for them- then I was around here

That’s where I was then, sleeping for hours –

It was like a balm

a salve


to the soul

from the village, from Plodn...one goes away

because I thought:
there will always be an alternative -

to the village, to the Bellavista

maybe also to death



I saw myself like an ant in a funnel

I ran up to the brink there

then I acted, as if I had fallen down into it




somehow they are not here

that’s why I have no use for the cemetery

they are still

it is a perversion

these stones

Isn’t life hard enough?

Somehow one of them got punished

the other one didn’t have the courage,
to imagine another reality






there you are like a

...his creature

his naked creature

there you can speak more forthright

it is also easier,
to feel a bit of humility






vests, tissues

articles for ladies, panty hoses

socks, knee-lengths and other stuff






when we were kids it was like a game for us

like a fable


how can one ever forget the magic
of a midnight mass on christmas eve

we were really young then

and then

to be made to perceive collectively

that was


Heaven is probably only
the absence of this suffering

of this pain

that is heaven then


simply the hope,
that everything is not in vain

but that still remains open for me

whether we need God

only because of fear







it is strange

here, for example, my grandfather died

the dreams of parents, of family...

of childhood, of a normal life

they were only dreams really

which were

annihilated very fast

and then there are the children’s cheerful voices of

here my brother shot himself into the mouth

now everything is over






it will soon be Christmas

today is the fourteenth

yesterday was Holy Lucia

at the Comelico there was a celebration

because she is a saint of the church

she is said to be good for the eyes

but that’s all nonsense

none of that helps





Holy Mary, Mother of God,
pray for us sinners,
now and at the hour of our death.
Amen.


the Lord is with thee,
blessed art thou amongst women,
and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.


Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done,
On Earth as it is in heaven...






the way home

the arduous way back

when everything still seems far away

- yes! ... yes! ...

I am here already





you know something?

you always give in

I just don’t want quarrels

they exploit this weakness

if everyone acted like that, as weak as you

That is not true!

you always say to me, I only look after Lori

she should stop it and just go upstairs





the latest studies have indicated
that the ship had changed direction unexpectedly

the wreck of the Andrea Doria is still surrounded by many mysteries

since 1981 many divers have lost their lives, going down to a depth of 70 meters and lower

the two trials that followed have brought to light,
that the calamity had been caused by fog



great political men- writers, poets, historians-
have established Rome as a cultural center


her large army has also turned Rome into a military centre





For a while I had thought:
Plodn as fate

Home as fate

Dialect as fate

looks like Rimini
that is again the touristic aspect

there are only pictures of me in the kitchen
in lieu of my brother

I can only see myself being in the kitchen

all the time

eternally

practically without a place of retreat

where escape was no longer possible





What are you to do?

you have to pretend not to pay any attention to it

continue struggling

there is no saint for that

that is the way it goes

now

I am done

there you have it

look, how beautiful

look, how beautiful, my stocking

I am done

look, how precise

look, how beautiful



(trailer:)


with:
Giuliana Pachner
Bernardina Piller-Puicher
Erminia Colle Tiz
Barbara Pachner
Diana Pachner
Gino Sacco Comis
Luigi Kratter
Marina Casanova Borca
Kaur Jasvir
Nadejda Khrolenko
Alexander Khrolenko
Cecilia Piller Rosina
Eugenio Fauner
Marco Soravia Puicher
Maurizio Piller Roner
Andrea Polencic
Luca Kratter
Giuseppina Pachner-Quinz
Giorgio Piller Puicher
Musikkapelle Maria Luggau
Associazione Culturale “Plodar” Plodn - Sappada
and many others

Thanks to:
Albergo Bellavista, Cima-Sappada
Emanuele Pachner
Diana Pachner
Piero Pachner
Gianfranco Singer
Maria Rita Singer
Luigi Kratter
Casa Museo della Civilta Contadina
Gabriele Fauner
Pina Piller Hoffer
Anna Galler
Maurizio Kratter
Simona Kratter
Bar Alpino, Sappada
Gianni Pachner


Translations:
Giuliana Pachner
Julia Hofer
Maria Schreiner

Title graphic:
Gerhard Kastler

Image editing,
Sound mix,
Subtitles
Schreiner, Kastler, Büro für Kommunikation GmbH., Wien

Re-Recording:
Listo-Video, Vienna

Linguistic supervision:
Maria Hornung

Production managment:
Susanne Schreiner
Gerhard Kastler

Camera, sound, editing:
Peter Schreiner

Concept and realisation:
Peter Schreiner
In collaboration with
Giuliana Pachner

echt.zeit.film, Vienna


Sponsored by:

Federal Chancellery ART
Federal Ministry for education, science and culture
WIEN-KULTUR
NIEDERÖSTERREICH-KULTUR
TIROL-KULTUR
KÄRNTEN-KULTUR
Jubilee foundation of the university of the city of Vienna
Maria Hornung, Society of the Friends of Linguistic Enclaves, Vienna















































Maya Mckechneay: Das Gedächtnis der Häuse (Artikel)

Das Bellavista ist ein Ort, dessen Schönheit im Rilke’schen Sinn auch Affront ist: Ein alpines Hotel mit weißen Mauern und dunklem Holz, das Gebäude zum »schönen Blick«. Diese Idylle fragmentiert Filmemacher Peter Schreiner ganz bewusst. Seine Kamera schneidet aus und an und verweigert so das Gesamtbild. Die Postkartenansicht eines Alpengasthauses samt Gipfeln wird uns vorenthalten, und doch bleibt das Gefühl einer gewissen subvertierten Vertrautheit: Das Bellavista als un-heimlicher Ort im Sinne Freuds.
Wie das Haus selbst fragmentiert Schreiner auch den Körper seiner Bewohnerin und Protagonistin des Films, Giuliana Pachner: Stirn, Wange, Augen; Türklinken, Fensterrahmen, eine Ecke des Tischs. Pachner, die gealterte Tochter der Hotelierfamilie, ist mit dem Haus von jeher verwachsen: »Man hatte schon früh das Gefühl, man sei auf die Welt gebracht worden, nur um dem Hotel zu dienen«, hört man sie im Off.
Während Pachners Stimme eine vergangene Familientragödie mehr andeutet als ausführt, filmt Schreiner die Flure, den Speisesaal, die Küche – menschenleer, wie Anfang des Jahrhunderts Eugene Atget die Straßen von Paris. Was Walter Benjamin über Atgets Arbeit bemerkte, gilt auch für diesen Film: Der Raum ist aufgenommen wie ein Tatort. Und wahrscheinlich ist er es auch. Mehrfach schweift die Kamera über den Friedhof, wo Pachners Brüder liegen, und über das von Narben durchzogene Gesicht der Frau selbst. Die klärende Totale auf das Hotel verweigert Schreiner selbst von Ferne. Er schneidet das Dach ab, spart Umfeld, Landschaft, Kontext aus, sodass wir zuletzt zwangsläufig gefangen bleiben mit Pachners Alpträumen im schönen »Bellavista«.

(Aus: SPRINGERIN, Das Gedächtnis der Häuser, von Maya Mckechneay)

Grosser Diagonale-Preis 2007 - Jurybegründung (Preis (Auszeichnung))

Der Film handelt vom Verschwinden einer Sprache, von Verlust, von Sehnsucht und Überleben. Er besticht durch sperrige Eleganz, durch die Schönheit und Würde seiner Protagonistinnen. Die handwerklich präzise Arbeit nimmt sich gestalterische Freiheit und alle Zeit der Welt. Der Film ist ein Plädoyer für das Kino: Bilder zu sehen, Töne zu hören, Kino zu denken.

Jurybegründung (Großer Diagonale-Preis für den besten Österreichischen Dokumentarfilm 2006-07)

Diagonale 2007: Best Documentary - Jury statement (Preis (Auszeichnung))

The film treats of the disappearance of a language. It is about loss, longing and survival. The beauty and dignity of its protagonists and its unwiedly elegance are captivating. This technically precise work takes creative liberties and all the time it needs. It is a plea for cinema: to see images, hear sounds, think cinema.

Diagonale 2007: Best Documentary - Jury statement
Orig. Titel
Bellavista
Jahr
2006
Land
Austria
Länge
117 min
Kategorie
Dokumentarfilm
Orig. Sprache
Verschiedene1
Downloads
Bellavista (Bild)
Credits
Regie
Peter Schreiner
Konzept & Realisation
Peter Schreiner
Konzept
Giuliana Pachner
Kamera
Peter Schreiner
Schnitt
Peter Schreiner
Ton
Peter Schreiner
DarstellerIn
Giuliana Pachner
Produktionsleitung
Susanne Schreiner, Gerhard Kastler
Übersetzung
Giuliana Pachner
Verfügbare Formate
35 mm (Distributionskopie)
Bildformat
1:1,85
Tonformat
Mono
Bildfrequenz
25 fps
Farbformat
s/w
Digital Betacam PAL (Distributionskopie)
Bildformat
16:9
Tonformat
Mono
Bildfrequenz
25 fps
Farbformat
s/w
Festivals (Auswahl)
2006
Wien - Viennale - Int. Filmfestwochen
Duisburg - Duisburger Filmwoche
2007
Rotterdam - Int. Filmfestival
Buenos Aires - Int. Videofestival
Wroclaw - New Horizons Festival
Amsterdam - Shadow Festival
Freistadt - Festival Der Neue Heimatfilm
Graz - Diagonale, Festival des österreichischen Films (Preis für den besten österreichischen Dokumentarfilm)