Synopsis: A sea faring father, a man living on the edge of mental sanity, periodically sees his young son. During the visits, the father tells the boy stories, exotic as well as close to home, about Magonia. This is a mythical place where clouds represent impossible dreams and unfulfilled desires. But the characters in this imaginary place all curiously resemble people now living near the father.
Director(s): Ineke Smits
  3 wins & 1 nomination.
112 min

The home stitch, the love knot,

the front mast throw...

...the strangle knot, the slipping

half-stitch, the lobster...

...the witchs knot,

the Dutch escape.

Even an ordinary knot

with eight crossings...

...can be tied 366 different ways.

Change one thing and

you have a completely new knot.

Or no knot at all.

With stories its just the same,

my father said.

What do you see?

Just clouds.

- Theyre sailing away.

After he came back ashore,

I saw my father every Sunday.

And every Sunday he had invented

a new knot. And a new story.

Yes, good. Look. Up high.

There, look. Can you see the ships?

The keel, the ribs.

You can only see the bottom.

There, a jib boom.

A propeller, an anchor shank.

Now and then

the mariners drop the anchor.

Then they climb down the chain... have a look at things down here.

But they cant breath here.

Our air is much too heavy.

They cant live here. Too heavy.

They would like to, but they cant. They

have to go back, or theyll suffocate.

And they climb aboard in a frenzy.

- They are safe again.

Safe, yes,

but all hope has vanished.

All his stories were different and yet

they all had the same message.

One piece of rope can be tied

into an infinite number of knots.


When hope vanishes,

where does it go?

There was a time...

When birds on their way south...

...stopped in our village

just to listen to Abdul Abdurduran.

Abdul Abdurduran.

Abdul Abdurduran, our muezzin.

Abdul Abdurduran.

When Abdul sang, the wolves

came down from the mountains... meek as lambs.

As children we were told that

his call to prayer sounded so lovely...

...that the women in the bathhouse

quickly covered themselves.

Alarmed as they were by

the thoughts his voice was evoking.

In those days the house of prayer

was always full.

People were living by the Word.

Our village was a jewel to Mohammed.

But we only know this from hearsay.

Its Hadas.

Welcome, Hadas.

Nobody there?

Same as usual.

Some hadjis,

just returned from Mecca...

...where they kissed

the Black Stone seven times...

...have yet renounced their faith

at the sound of Abduls voice.

When the Prophet said...

...that Allah would be served

by sounding a call to prayer...

...he didnt reckon

with the voice of our muezzin.

Abdul deserves our respect because

of his attitude and his spirit... thought and in deed.

We love him

as we love a wise, strict father.

Nobody is more loved

than he who will soon depart.

But this singing of his...

...provides the disbelievers

with a powerful argument.

I told you that they always try to sell

you all sorts of junk at this fair.

And Memed bought some.

Has it got any use?

Arent you cold?

Not with your arms around me.

He wouldnt eat today.

He has devoted his life to just

one thing. And now its over.

My parents said that Abdul

had received his voice from heaven.

I have always thought that one day

he would be lifted to his home.

He should leave on wings.

- Dont worry.

I have something that might restore

some of his former strength.

I owe my life to him.

I owe my love to him.

Hes alone.

Arent we all?



Im afraid

it cant go on like this any...

We have to tell him the truth.

- He knows very well.

Tell him that if he stops now,

before everything...

Itll be the death of him.


Sometimes you have to let go

of what is dearest to you.

Even people?

If itis out of love.

Illeknur, please...?

I thought, why not keep

these beautiful songs.

What are you doing?

Its of no use to Hadas anyway.

Its of no use to Hadas anyway.

Can you feel this, Abdul?

Memed is such a good lad.

Dont you agree?

Everybodys wondering what

your plans are for Illeknur, Abdul.

When the stars fall,

and when the hills are moved...

...and when the camels

big with young are abandoned...

...and when wild beasts...

...are herded together...

...and when the seas rise...

...then every soul will know...

...what it hath made ready.

All the words he needed for his life,

he knows by heart.

Hes started with the first of the

one hundred and fourteen surahs...

...and he will not rest

before his lips have tasted...

...all 6200 verses

of the Holy Book of Islam.

But surely a man has to eat?

A man has to drink also.

But you know what Abdul is like.

Two days and nights?

- It took the angel Gabriel 20 years... pass Gods Word

on to Mohammed...

...but our Abdul will need

a mere two days and two nights.

Oh, this wind...

No wind carries further than

the storm from the throats...

...of those who had to choose

between loyalty and love.

This is a favourable wind.

Such a favourable wind.

It would be a pity to waste it.

- No, please, not yet.

Its time. It really is time.

My father said he could snare the winds.

And I pretended I believed him.

One of those games we played.


- One for a breeze.

Two for a trade wind.

Three for a gale and four...

Four knots were strictly forbidden

on board. Far too dangerous.

Thats how it is.

You have to catch things...

...before you can let them go.

Lets have a look. Where does

it untie? Can you see?

When the farmers

were harvesting near Lyons...

...they saw a great ship

appear in the sky above them...

...with its sails taut

and flags flying.

The anchor was lowered and

got caught in the rail of a bridge.

Three men and a woman slid down

along the heavy iron chain... pick fresh fruit

and collect fresh water.

But soon the heaviness of our

existence weighed down upon them.

They were gasping for breath

like fish.

They cannot live in our atmosphere,

said the bishop Agobardus.

They will drown,

unless we help them to return.

To regain their freedom.

And at a speed of nine knots...

...the three men and the woman

sailed away...

...from the unbelievable that

they had experienced.

Dad. Daddy.

Easy, my boy, easy now.

I thought youd gone.

This is an island. Where would I go?

- Youre not leaving?


Maybe when youve got that far.

But not before.

How far?

Far enough.

What do you mean far enough?

- To understand.

Can you get that far?

- Oh yes, sure, the farther the better.

Enough, Sam. Were going.

I think its a scarecrow.

Quite effective,

by the looks of things.

It looks like an old man,

but its not moving.

Its just standing there,

in front of that hut.

Doing nothing.

Its features are human though.

Perhaps its a sculpture.

Carved out of an old branch.

As a warning.

A kind of memento mori.

If it wasnt quite so unwieldy

Id say:
Lets buy it...

...and chuck it in the boot.

You coming?

Zoe. From the Greek.

Maxwell. Foreign Office.

Diplomatic service and all that.

In short, Zoe Maxwell,

woman in distress.

Our car has broken down.

Its broken down, the car.

Were looking for help.

This is my husband, so you see...

Not exactly your AA-man, is he?

You dont look like youre good

with cars. Thats a bit of a letdown.

But you are a man and you are strong.

We could prop up the car.

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Arthur Japin

Arthur Valentijn Japin (born 26 July 1956 in Haarlem) is a Dutch novelist. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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    "Magonia" STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 13 Jul 2024. <>.

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