Études écossaises 21 | 2021 Scotland and the Moving Image Hearing the Lost Voices of the Community. Distance and Contact Zones in the St Kilda Movies Philippe Laplace Electronic version URL: http://journals.openedition.org/etudesecossaises/3596 DOI: 10.4000/etudesecossaises.3596 ISSN: 1969-6337 Publisher UGA Éditions/Université Grenoble Alpes Printed version ISBN: 978-2-37747-275-8 ISSN: 1240-1439 Electronic reference Philippe Laplace, “Hearing the Lost Voices of the Community. Distance and Contact Zones in the St Kilda Movies”, Études écossaises [Online], 21 | 2021, Online since 31 March 2021, connection on 31 March 2021. URL: http://journals.openedition.org/etudesecossaises/3596 ; DOI: https://doi.org/ 10.4000/etudesecossaises.3596 This text was automatically generated on 31 March 2021. © Études écossaises Hearing the Lost Voices of the Community. Distance and Contact Zones in the S... 1 Hearing the Lost Voices of the Community. Distance and Contact Zones in the St Kilda Movies Philippe Laplace The pampered native of St Kilda may with reason refuse to change his situation; finding his amusement where his chief occupation lies, in the pursuit of sea fowl, that constitute at the same time his game, his luxury, and a considerable part of his wealth. Free from the reputed evils of law, physic, politics, and taxes; living under a patriarchal government, among a social circle of his relations; in a mild climate, without knowledge of a higher state of things; if he thinks not his island an Utopia, the pursuit of happiness is indeed a dream. (MacCulloch, 1819, pp. 29–30) 1 What I want to consider in this article is the way the Hebridean archipelago of St Kilda and its inhabitants were described in the only two fictional films ever made about life in these islands, in spite of a large number of documentaries. These are The Edge of the World (1937) directed by the English director Michael Powell and Ill Fares the Land (1983) by the Scottish playwright Bill Bryden (also, at that time, associate director at the Royal National Theatre). What will be demonstrated is that the directors, even though they both tackled the same event, namely the evacuation of the archipelago in 1930, had very different objectives in doing so. I will then consider how distance and contact zones are used in order in these films to describe the encounter between islanders and mainlanders and how they tried to give voice to the islanders. St Kilda and the creation of a myth 2 The archipelago of St Kilda is a group of islands some 110 miles off the West coast of Scotland. Despite its apparent proximity, reaching it and disembarking in treacherous waters once proved its visitors’ maritime prowess and soon became a rite of passage that allowed the recipient the right to explore the islands. It was first extensively described in a famous travel writing account published in 1698 by Martin Martin. Martin spent three weeks on Hirta—the main island of the archipelago and the only Études écossaises, 21 | 2021 Hearing the Lost Voices of the Community. Distance and Contact Zones in the S... 2 inhabited one—where he accompanied the Reverend James Campbell on a mission to rid the island of a false prophet. He then enthusiastically reported, first in an article and then in a book, on the social characteristics of a native population whose customs and ways of life were so remote from those on the mainland that the one hundred and eighty islanders had developed a society where there was neither currency nor hierarchical organization. Originally from the Isle of Skye, Martin, as a native Gaelic speaker and a graduate from the University of Edinburgh, was extremely well equipped for discussing with the islanders and reporting their life and customs. His very detailed account presents how the St Kildans lived in self-sufficiency and insisted on their egalitarian social organization: crops and fowl and eggs were shared between the families. So too were the boats they possessed, and work was also fairly distributed within the community. Bartering was the only known means of exchange and rents were paid in kind. Contacts with the mainlanders were few and far between as the archipelago bore neither a strategic nor an economic interest for Great Britain. Martin’s lively account, however, started a vogue that increased exponentially with the appearance of steamboats a century and a half later. Amongst his many hyperbolic statements about the islanders, one can read: The inhabitants of St. Kilda, are much happier than the generality of mankind, as being almost the only people in the world who feel the sweetness of true liberty: what the condition of the people in the Golden Age is feign’d by the poets to be, that theirs really is, I mean, in innocency and simplicity, purity, mutual love and cordial friendship, free from solicitous cares and anxious covetousness; from envy, deceit, and dissimulation; from ambition and pride, and the consequences that attend them. […] There is this only wanting to make them the happiest people in this habitable globe, viz. that they themselves do not know how happy they are, and how much they are above the avarice and slavery of the rest of mankind. Their way of living makes them contemn gold and silver, as below the dignity of human nature; they live by the munificence of heaven, and have no designs upon one another, but such as are purely suggested by justice and benevolence. (Martin, 1698, pp. 131–2) 3 What Martin’s compelling narrative did was to invest St Kilda with the fabulous characteristics of a Golden Age metanarrative, endowing the archipelago and its inhabitants with a special status. Most of the visitors were totally enraptured by what they saw, and most of them made sure that they only caught a glimpse of what corresponded to Martin’s descriptions. Even if some tourists were deeply concerned about the precarious health situation of the natives, or their notorious lack of hygiene, others, on the contrary, were happy to mock the St Kildans’ antiquated way of life and their distrust of progress. St Kilda allowed British antiquarians, scientists and visitors the possibility to explore an island in British territorial waters which seemed peculiarly out of time, thus recalling the unconventional mores and customs that British travellers were keen to report in the distant oversea colonies. 4 The last thirty-six inhabitants of St Kilda eventually decided to petition the British government in 1930 in order to request their repatriation to mainland Britain. What was probably surprising was that this was a resolution issuing from the natives themselves, and not an imperial decision from London. Great Britain had indeed always seemed to be tolerant or, more exactly, totally indifferent towards the fate of the inhabitants of St Kilda: the St Kildans never paid taxes. There was no electoral register and no man from St Kilda was ever called up to serve in the British army, Études écossaises, 21 | 2021 Hearing the Lost Voices of the Community. Distance and Contact Zones in the S... 3 notwithstanding the fact that the inhabitants were included in British censuses and that a Post Office was set up on the main island of the archipelago in 1899. 5 St Kilda is now a nature reserve and has been uninhabited for nearly eighty years, except for some scientists, military engineers and large bird colonies. Research and conservation are run by the National Trust for Scotland, the Scottish National Heritage and the Ministry of Defence but the archipelago also holds a rare dual World Heritage site status (natural, 1986, and cultural, 2005). St Kilda has however occupied a peculiar position in popular imagination in Scotland since Martin’s books and it continues to fascinate: its fate seems to symbolize the disappearance of unique and somehow primitive societies in the face of the late nineteenth and early twentieth century spread of tourism, commerce and urbanization and it has indeed often been used as an example for the loss of indigenous voices. Cinema was bound to take an interest in issues regarding St Kilda and the development of this island community, even though the very small number of fictional films highlights the difficulty of finding suitable plots for feature films. St Kilda and the directors’ objectives 6 Both directors wrote their own scripts, but both had different ambitions for their films. The Edge of the World was Michael Powell’s first feature film. Even though he was not a newcomer to British cinema—having shot a score of “quota quickies” between 1931 and 1936 (Chibnall, 2007, pp. 207–31)—this film was fundamental to his career and had a substantial impact on his personal life. The director later confessed to having been fascinated by islands in general, and by the 1930 evacuation of St Kilda in particular (Powell, 2000, pp. 225–6 and p. 254). Powell’s idea was first and foremost artistic: he meant to use the dramatic setting of the jagged shoreline in order to bring to the fore a poignant story about friendship and love. But the underlying theme in this movie is the fate of small islands and their likely depopulation. Because Lord Dumfries, who was then the proprietor of St Kilda, refused him the right to shoot the film on location in the archipelago, Powell resorted to spending five months on Foula (in the Shetland islands) and to employing the few local islanders as extras to shoot The Edge of the World in 1936. It is also because of these precarious shooting conditions, which included a storm that forced the director, the actors and the technicians to spend some extra weeks on Foula, that this film is well known.