The Forgotten Village

The Forgotten Village, released in 1941, provides an intriguing intertwinement of documentary and narrative film practices. Directed by eminent exhibitionist Herbert Kline and laced with the acrimonious voiceover of Burgess Meredith, the movie takes us through a deeply emotive journey of a secluded Mexican village where time seems to have forgotten its duty to propel society forward.

The title of the film emerges from the setting itself, a remote, isolated, and rather forgotten Mexican village nestled amidst mountains, where modernization is a mere aspirational echo while ancient customs carry the day. In truth, the village is symbolic, representing all outlying human societies globally that are still bound by traditions and are yet to tread into the headlights of modernity that the rest of the world is immersed in.

The plot of this 67-minute film is no elaborate confection of events, but a simple made-to-life tale of the struggle between modern medicine and the grip of old customs and superstitions. The Forgotten Village brings forward a powerfully empathic character study of Juan Diego, a young villager. Juan represents the beckoning winds of change, courageous and determined to embrace modern ways to improve the life of his kinsmen.

Burgess Meredith, synonymous primarily as an actor with notable appearances in Of Mice and Men and later in Rocky movies, lends his powerful voice as the narrator of the film. His narration is not a string of mere statements and announcements, but rather a harsh critique on the prevalent conditions, a voice that signals the need for change, and carries empathy for the village folk entrapped in the snare of age-old traditions.

Apart from this seminal aspect of narration, one cannot overlook the significant role played by the villagers themselves, who are not professional actors but ordinary folk portraying their daily lives. They become the living props that provide the film with its raw authenticity, adding the feel of a living, breathing documentary to an otherwise fictional narration.

The Forgotten Village deftly showcases what happens when old and new collide. The fear of the unknown, suspicion towards unconventional ideas, and resistance to dismantling age-old beliefs form the crux of the societal conflict. It's vividly displayed in the villagers' skepticism towards the new medical center and their unwavering trust in their curandero – a traditional healer whose practices lean towards the mystical. Juan's struggle to bring about this change becomes the pivotal conflict, with Burgess Meredith's narration eliciting a deep concern for the challenges gripping this village.

The cinematography, helmed by the celebrated Alexander Hammid, is another characteristic element of this film, presenting the everyday reality of the villagers with raw precision and heartfelt detail. The grainy black and white film adds a rustic, raw feel to the surroundings, perfectly encapsulating the isolated, untouched existence of the village, far from the grasp of modern civilization. Together with the evocative folk score that plays in the backdrop, it paints a moving picture of rural life teetering on the realm of change.

The Forgotten Village was more than just a film during its time. It was seen as a formidable social critique, skillfully pointing out the dire need for modernization and education in such isolated societies. The film, however, doesn't arm-twist the viewer to adhere to a particular point of view but rather opens up a discourse on the face-off between holistic progress and respect for age-old cultures.

The Forgotten Village stands tall not just as a film but as a vigorous narrative that engages viewers in the dynamics of societal change. It uses a tiny, isolated setting to project a larger, universal premise, making it a timeless study on the struggles that underdeveloped societies face while standing on the cusp of change. It is an unflinching portrait of forgotten corners of the world that continue to struggle under the weight of tradition and superstition. Yet, within its running time, this 1941 cinematic gem manages to conclude on an optimistic note - an ode to the human spirit's resilience.