How Green Was My Valley
A few years ago, a woman I knew, who espoused the most irrational feminist nonsense and all the multi-culti pap which attends it, went on a trip to England and was fortunate enough to make an excursion of a few days into Wales. Trying to express her reactions to seeing the Welsh -- as a people and country -- she became almost inarticulate, because her consciously espoused beliefs conflicted with her very positive response to the Welsh environment: there are very few places left in Europe which have retained the ethnic homogeneity and pride which the Welsh have. Family life is (or, at least was, until quite recently) strong and blood ties are respected. The people have a love of their Celtic language and have managed to preserve it in the face of centuries of pressure to abandon it. In short, they are the epitome of everything against which the NWO/ZOG's Propasphere tirelessly harangues, cajoles, and mocks us into rejecting and wants to destroy forever, and Welsh values are the antithesis of what the New Mulatto -- the New Man of the NWO -- is.
Based upon the novel by Welshman Richard Llewellyn, Valley is set in a Welsh mining village before unionization, and focuses upon one Welsh family. This is where poor casting could have ruined everything! But Valley was made in the days before casting decisions were made with an eye to an anti-White political agenda, so that everyone in the cast is either Welsh or of a closely related racial type. As the patriarch of the family, Donald Crisp has the kind of strength and natural, unforced authority -- even sternness, when required -- that fathers were expected to have. Crisp is one of those consummate, unflamboyant actors usually described as 'character actors.' This usually indicates -- as it does here -- that the guy didn't have the looks to become a hearthrob, but had a talent for acting and intelligence and discipline to learn his craft. Crisp was a master at it; although his character is taciturn (the soccer moms would probably say he wasn't 'in touch with his feelings'), you know -- and that's the art of it -- that he feels a tender protectiveness toward his wife and sons. The wife, played by Sarah Allgood -- as good a chacracter actress as Crisp is an actor -- has maternal softness, but a tough, fibrous strength beneath.
The story of the movie -- which, on one level is the story of the growing resistance of Welsh miners to the power and abuses of the mine owners -- is told in the form of a flashback by the youngest son of the family, Huw. By using this perpective, it touches a common chord in all of us, Welsh or not, because it incorporates that sense of a child, now long an adult, looking back with adult eyes upon a world which seemed static and ever-present, but which now "belongs to the Ages."
The way that the movie's story unfolds -- simply, but elegaically -- conveys the essence of the great chain of generations -- of what it means to be a people. There's a sequence in the movie in which the people of the village are singing, and it sent chills down my spine. Although they are singing a hymn as they come together in the village, the joined voices are expressing an essentially racial unity. The Welsh, like the Italians, are gifted singers and anyone who has ever sung in harmony with a few close friends understands the euphoria and sense of perfect understanding, the blend of individuality and belonging that it can mean.
The fact that the movie's in black and white rather than color actually assists its 'message,' and I put the word in quotation marks because there was no agenda, political or otherwise, in this movie's message, and that's what the word has come to mean today. Nor was the message necessarily a conscious one on the part of either the author of the book it's based upon or the director, John Ford. As with any honest work of art, the message is the work itself.
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