Speaking your mother tongue is a good way to maintain a connection with your culture. But, if that fails, perhaps other means can be used, such as learning more about a fish and its history.
A boy of dual nationality tries to learn about his birthplace and its culture, while not knowing how to speak the language. This is achieved through a fish, a creature that normally does not speak, but here does in the narration – and is of dual nationality like the boy. Crispin Yanisi weaves a poetic narrative of discovery and belonging through two parallel threads: the young man’s journey of discovery and the account of the fish’s life, from sea to table. Between the visual portrayal of the animal world and the auditory context of the young man’s world, the void is filled in the fish’s voice. Although it is clearly a narrative film, with a “beginning, middle, and end,” this story is pared down to its essential elements, leaving open space for a poetic reverie. Between the film photography of a beautifully pale, multicolored palette and an intricate orchestration of sounds and voices in all their panoramic potency, Tila•pia is a long pilgrimage from the lands to seas and back again. (Vasco Muralha)
