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Having already launched Quechua Clips—a project that reimagined iconic animated scenes in Quechua—Valencia confirmed that millions of Quechua speakers were hungry for stories in their own language. The groundswell of support he received from Quechua Clips going viral enthused him to pursue dubbing The Lion King with the spirited assistance of his devoted 8-year-old son Dylan voicing Prince Simba. What follows is a charming and inspiring narrative of a father sharing his dream with his son, a dream as wide as the vistas afforded by the Peruvian Andes (from whom Valencia solicits spiritual support).
Naturally, though many people agree Valencia’s idea is a great one, he can’t receive institutional or financial support until he secures the necessary licenses from Disney, which—as starkly laid out for him by an attorney—is near to impossible because Disney will never agree to The Lion King being dubbed in an indigenous language. Valencia falters with tears in his eyes, but his dream will not be undone and armed with a homemade studio and a crew of amateur voice actors all similarly enthused towards language justice, Valencia charges forward without permission to pursue his dream project and to create an evening screening where the local Quechua community can finally experience a movie in their own language; some watching a movie for the first time. As moving as the interaction between Valencia and his son Dylan is throughout this documentary, the father-son dynamic amplifies generationally when Valencia’s own father weeps after the one-off screening, proud beyond belief, embracing Valencia as if never to let him go. What could any father wish more than to pass on cultural heritage? Equally compelling is Valencia’s valiant mother who—along with literally building the first school house in her rural community—likewise recognized the importance of sending Valencia to a private school in the city so that his dreams could springboard from her own.
At Democracy Now, Amy Goodman notes that experts estimate that a language is lost every two weeks—and that half of the world’s 7,000 spoken languages could be lost by the end of the century. Quechua is the most widely spoken Indigenous language in the Americas, with approximately 7 to 10 million speakers living primarily in Peru, Bolivia and Ecuador. But like so many indigenous languages, Qechua is vulnerable due to cultural pressures and discrimination. Thus, Valencia’s dream project leans into indigenous activism and cultural reclamation. Because Quechua is not a written language and is learned orally, laminating the language onto the medium of film has proven to be an excellent means of preservation.
Goodman interviews the film’s director Augusto Zegarra who worked on the making of this film for nearly nine years. Though Peruvian, born in Cusco, Zegarra is not an indigenous Quechua speaker though he felt it important to highlight Valencia’s project because of the discrimination against Quechua speakers who—treated as second-class citizens—are fighting for their basic human rights.
Runa Simi had its world premiere at Tribeca where Zegarra took home the Albert Maysles Award for documentary director followed by a dozen prizes from other festivals including the Palm Springs International and the Miami Film Festival. After a successful one week run of sold-out screenings in New York and ahead of a one-week run in Los Angeles, Runa Simi is making a special stop in San Francisco for two screenings.
Monday, Nov 2, 7:30pm, 4-Star Theater 2200 Clement St • San Francisco
Wednesday, Nov 4, 6pm, Roxie Theater 3125 16th St • San Francisco
Director Augusto Zegarra, Fernando Valencia (subject of film), and producer Paloma Iturriaga will be present at both screenings. This will be an excellent opportunity to hear how Quechua is the language through which Valencia listens and speaks to his heart and his soul; the language by which he gives voice to his dream, which now proceeds into the world.
