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The Last Lamp of Ben Aliv

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The Last Lamp of Ben Aliv
Directed by Renata Corvo
Written by
Based on The Judahite rite and surviving accounts of the lamp of Ben Aliv
Produced by Lucía Ventura
Starring
Cinematography Dario Fenn
Edited by Celeste Arriaga
Music by Allegra Van Bokhoven
Production
company
Distributed by Nocturne Releasing
Release date
Start of Autumus (XIII) 1759 AN
Running time
101 minutes
Country Nouvelle Alexandrie Nouvelle Alexandrie
Language
Budget c. NAX€2.5 million
Box office c. NAX€22 million

The Last Lamp of Ben Aliv is a 1759 AN New Alexandrian period ghost story directed by Renata Corvo and produced by Twilight Tales Studios in the low-budget horror style known as the Cárdenas Gothic. Filmed on location in the port city of Judah, Wechua Nation, and scored by the veteran Cárdenas Gothic composer Allegra Van Bokhoven, it stages the extinct Judahite rite and the standing lamp of Ben Aliv, the vessel the rite held had never gone out.[1]

The film reconstructs a faith whose own literature is largely lost, working from the hostile Yerenist polemics that are nearly its only surviving record. It opened to little notice at the start of Autumus (XIII) 1759 AN and became the sleeper hit of the season. On 14.XIII.1759 AN it drew the first public statement of the Israati University of Judah, whose faculty divided over whether a faith known through its enemies can honestly be rebuilt at all.[1] Some Israati families in Judah questioned who owns a rite their descent outlived. No government ban followed, in contrast to the earlier banned horror film Last Night on Botha.[2]

Plot

In the final winter of the Judahite rite at Ben Aliv, as the Kingdom of the Union of Caputia falls apart, a young woman named Tzofiah is the last keeper of her household left to tend a standing lamp of twelve flames that the rite believed had never gone out. The faith teaches no afterlife, only that the dead endure for as long as their family keeps up the duties they left behind, and as Tzofiah feeds the lamp she is attended by the ghosts of the keepers before her. A chronicler from a rival church, Halvard, arrives to record the tradition's end and to ask whether a lamp still kept for a congregation that no longer gathers is faithful witness or only stubbornness. Across its last night the lamp goes out for good, releasing the dead and ending the rite, though the film never says how, or by whose hand.

For generations the households of Ben Aliv had taken turns feeding the lamp, so that it was never allowed to go dark. By the time of the film those households have nearly died away, thinned by plague and by the families who long before left for the Free State of Haifa, the emigrants the rite remembered as "the lampless." Tzofiah has only just come of age, a "child of the obligation" in the rite's own phrase, and is the last of her family fit to stand a watch.

The dead keep her company at the wick, her grandmother Rivka among them, present in the lamplight because the rite is still, for one more winter, being kept; from Rivka she learns the only words a keeper is allowed to speak over the watch, that the flame was burning when she came to it and burning when she left. Each flame that gutters out before she can reach it lets one of the dead fade a little further. Into the failing town comes Halvard, sent by the neighboring Yereni church, which carries its own fire from candle to candle where the Ben Aliv lamp is fed in place and never moved. He presses the question the rite's own doctrine of the witness had always answered and the dwindling community no longer can, and he writes down Tzofiah's replies; by the end it emerges that everything the film shows survives only in the hostile account he carries away.

The film's central sequence is the "ritual dark," a night the rite observed once in each cycle by leaving the lamp unfed and gathering for nothing at all. Alone in the dark, Tzofiah cannot tell whether the keepers around her are still present or already gone, and neither can the audience; when the light returns, some of the twelve flames stay out. At the last the lamp goes dark for good, and the film never says whether Tzofiah lets it die, the final oil simply fails, or Halvard puts it out, drawing that refusal from the rite's teaching that the ritual dark and the final dark cannot always be told apart. The lamp's going-out releases the dead she had kept and closes their testimony, but it does not lift their obligation. The rite's teacher Nahum of Judah had reduced the point to a single line, that the lamp is a debt and not a proof.[1]

Cast

Historical basis

The rite the film reconstructs is the Judahite rite, the eastern form of the Yehudi tradition in Israat, which ended as an organized body with the dissolution of the Kingdom of the Union of Caputia in 1668 AN.[3] Its court sat at Judah and its cult at Ben Aliv, where the households of the city tended the twelve-mouth lamp in unbroken rotation.[4] The rite's literature is largely lost; what remains of its teaching survives inside the polemics the neighboring Yereni Church wrote against it, whose commentators quoted the Israati authorities at length to answer them.[3] The lamp's discipline, fed in its place and never carried, stood against the Yereni Church's own fire, an ever-flame passed from candle to candle; the two traditions contested where the first flame had come from, and it was in that quarrel that the Yerenist polemicists preserved the record the film works from.[5]

Recovering the rite from that hostile record is the founding purpose of the Israati University of Judah, established in 1734 AN by the philologist Yoel Maccabi, who held that a hostile witness is preferable to none and made the line the institution's motto.[1] The University's scholars work to recover the rite's authorities, Nahum of Judah and Eliav of Ben Aliv, from the paraphrases their enemies left. The film's most-quoted line, attributed to Eliav of Ben Aliv, that a congregation will tolerate an obscure doctrine but not a feast kept on the wrong day, reaches the present only through such a hostile quotation, and whether Eliav said it is not established.[1]

The Israati are counted in the census as a category of descent distinct from the confession, and their descent outlived the rite by generations; a family may be Israati today without keeping the rite at all.[3]

Production

The Last Lamp of Ben Aliv was made by Twilight Tales Studios, the Cárdenas studio that Gabriel Moreno built into the home of the Cárdenas Gothic style.[6] Its director, Renata Corvo, took a small crew east to Judah and shot among the old quarters where the rite had its seat. Van Bokhoven, who has scored the studio's pictures for a generation, wrote its music. Made for the price of a single mainstream reel, the film was expected to fill a season's late shows and no more.[1] To rebuild the rite on screen, Corvo's writers worked from the record its enemies kept.[1]

Reception and controversy

The film was released under the tagline "The dead are kept only while the lamp is fed." It sold out its houses week after week, carried by word of mouth and by an argument its makers had not planned for.[1] It went on to gross in the region of NAX€22 million, many times its budget. On 14.XIII.1759 AN the Israati University of Judah addressed the picture in public for the first time, its faculty divided between the position the University was founded on, that a film which sends people back to the sources is a gift, and the objection that a text known only through its enemies is an allegation rather than a text. Adina Serel, who teaches the rite's history at the University, said the film never pretends to show the rite but shows it as the men who hated it chose to describe it, and questioned whether an audience keeps that distinction in mind once the lights come up.[1]

A sharper objection came from outside the University. Some Israati families in Judah asked by what right a Cárdenas studio stages their ancestors' extinguished faith, and from its enemies' pages. Miriam Toledano, who organized a letter of Israati residents to the studio, said, "I do not want it banned. I want it to say, on the screen, whose account this is."[1] Others welcomed the film for carrying a nearly forgotten history to an audience that would not open a philologist's monograph.[1]

Twilight Tales called the picture a ghost story rather than a reconstruction, an act of homage to a thing that is gone; the label fit the rite's own doctrine, which held no personal hereafter but only a continuance in the keeping, the dead persisting as the obligations their households went on discharging.[1] No ban followed and none was moved, a restraint that stood out in a Federation that had banned the horror film Last Night on Botha after a single Judah Film Festival screening, a prohibition that kept this film's own composer, Van Bokhoven, off the screen for seven years.[2]

See also

References