Blind Silence: The Village

the village

(I actually wrote this for our last issue of Femnista, but had to cut it when it became a priority to feature Amy and Rory.)

What will love ask of you? If you’re Ivy Walker, it’ll ask you to overcome your fears, discover the truth, and push into the unknown … completely blind.

The love Ivy shares with Lucius is gentle and innocent. He’s a man of few words whose conspicuous lack of affection for her indicates how he wants to guide, love, and protect her in an atmosphere of fear. In this solitary world, creatures inhabit the wood; no one must pass the border or associate with the “ bad color” (red). Only Lucius is unafraid. He believes the creatures won’t harm the innocent. Ivy doesn’t understand his courage until she’s asked to find it herself.

The Village is about many different kinds of love: unspoken, unrequited, controlling, jealous, and innocent. Love keeps some enslaved to lies and sets others free in the truth. It’s a story of trying to repress evil through alienation only to discover that evil exists wherever sinful people are present. It’s about isolation, innocence, and fear. The village’s external beauty covers up a multitude of sins.

Few romances have a leading man who rarely says a word and a blind heroine. She sees faint “color” around those she loves most: her father and Lucius. Ivy is forever altered by love. For it, she enters the wood and goes on when others turn back in fear. Her love for Lucius leads to the discovery of a horrible secret. Another’s love, in a twisted and jealous form gives her a chance to become more, to learn the truth, and avenge herself, in complete innocence. Ivy proves that true love can overcome any obstacle. She’s blind but it doesn’t stop her from being courageous. Her love for Lucius is pure, and asks her to tackle what she most fears. Ivy lives out the definition of love in Corinthians: “Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It does not dishonor others, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love doesn’t delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres.”

Love leads her to truth, helps overcome her fears, and saves Lucius. In no small way, the shedding of blood changes her life forever. To her, it’s a devastating event, but it offers her absolute truth for the first time. This concept is familiar to believers. It reminds us of another innocent spilling of blood, which lets us find the truth, overcome our fears, and be saved. Jesus’ sacrifice on the cross as life-altering for us as Lucius’ injury is for Ivy. His love forever changes us, as Lucius’ spilled blood forever changes Ivy. Without love, she couldn’t find courage. But when filled with it, nothing is too difficult for her, even if she may struggle in fear. Just as Ivy’s love lets her do great things, Jesus’ love grants us power and strength. Where others in the town are tormented by their individual “boxes of sin,” Ivy’s acceptance of love frees her from darkness. ■

5 Replies to “Blind Silence: The Village”

  1. Gosh, amazing review, you manage to conjure up some lovely, ethereal imagery, intriguing the reader–and without giving away the ending! (which is good since I’ve only seen part of it)

    I think it’s interesting how so many cultures assign meaning to colors, red is one of the more understandable, but there’s white for marriage, black for death, and then there’s dispute over whether green, blue or gold should be associated with life! this happens even among Christians. Yet, I can find no scriptural basis for “valuing” one color over another. Occasionally colors are invoked, for descriptive purposes, and there is mention of “light” over “dark”, but I think this has more to do with the metaphor of being blind vs seeing. (As you mentioned above!)

    I’ve always found it interesting too, how while Jesus healed those were blind, lame etc;, being disabled is never held in Scripture to be a sin. Yes, lots of cultures have stigmatized the disabled, including supposedly “Christian” cultures, but this is a worldly influence, not one from God. (this is the sort of thing that bugs me when people start carping on how “barbaric” medieval Christians were)

    I’ll admit–if it’s crossed my mind from time to time, that if I were to have a serious disability befall me, I’d undoubtedly be crushed. Would it make my faith crumble? No–but I’d probably feel like everything in my life had turned to dust. It’s strange–because on the “cosmic” scale if you will, all humans, blind or seeing, rich or poor, are actually insignificant and fragile, and y’know, us Christians especially aren’t supposed to care about all this “earthly” stuff 😛 . But we do–and we say we’d trust God to “bear us up” and guide us, but we like being able to see where we’re going, and get there on our own two feet.

    I like your illustration above–because–in a sense, we are all walking blind, we can see ahead for the next few paces, and take in a landscape in a second, but we can’t see into the minds and hearts of men, or what the morrow holds.

    (Although that said, I’m wary of waxing too poetic over real life afflictions and whatnot. I remember once reading about a man who was gradually losing his sight, and had people who heard about his condition coming up to him and saying “Gosh, what’s happening to you–it must be so magical!” ) *face-palm*

      1. Yeah–it was this news feature about people with vision loss related medical conditions, and one sufferer said he’d had a few idiots act like increasing blindness must be some kind of “amazing experience” * head desk * . To which he’d replied that still being able to cook a meal for himself without having an accident, that was magical.

    1. It’s such a wonderful film that I didn’t want to reveal ANY of its major plot twists — so I did the best I could without really telling a reader unfamiliar with the story anything! There are a lot more nuances in this film that I love… its references to how people love, for example. Ivy figures out that Lucius loves her, because he stopped touching her — walking her around, guiding her places. One of the most romantic moments is when Ivy is in potential peril — waiting at a doorway, her hand stretched out for Lucius, as evil creeps toward her. Lucius’ awareness of his own hesitance in touching her makes him aware of the fact that Ivy’s father loves his mother — since he never touches her, not even to shake her hand. It’s… a masterpiece, an intricately layered film full of quiet meaning and heartbreak, but also happiness.

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