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The Edge of the World Britain 1937

Posted by keith1942 on May 28, 2017

The film was screened from a 35mm print at the Hyde Park Picture House as part of the AGM for the Friends of the Hyde Park Picture.

The 1930s is often seen as a ‘low decade’ for British films. But, apart from many of the ‘Quota Quickies’ [made on the cheap to take advantage of state subsidies] there were some fine and well made movies. This title is one of those. It was directed by Michael Powell, shortly before he began his famous partnership with Emeric Pressburger.

The film is a melodrama set in a traditional community where modern influences are threatening the established way of life. Tensions within communities are accentuated by conflicts over tradition versus the new. The central problem is the impact of modern life and new technologies on a traditional community in decline. One example in the film is that the Islands fishing work has been taken over by trawlers operating from the Scottish mainland. This conflict is personified in the persons of the sons of the Manson and Gray families. Ironically the conflict is played out in a traditional ritual: a contest on the steep Island cliffs.

Powell’s story was inspired by reports in 1930 of the evacuation of St. Kilda [in the Hebrides]. In fact he had to shoot the film on Foula in the Shetlands. Given the story that was the source the film’s resolution is pre-ordained. The drama is developed by the conflict, which to a degree is a generational conflict. But there is also a romance, itself tragically affected by the larger conflict.

The film makes impressive use of Island rituals. Early on we see the Sabbath morning and the inhabitants gathering at the Kirk for a service and a traditional sermon running over an hour. Later we see the Islanders herding sheep for traditional hand-picking of the wool. There is an open-air ceilidh. A major event is a funeral and wake for a victim. And finally, we watch as the Inhabitants file onto a trawler, leaving their home for the mainland.

These characters are well played by familiar actors like John Laurie (Peter Manson), Finlay Currie (James Gray) and Niall MacGinnis (Andrew Gray) with lesser known performers like Belle Chrystall (Ruth Manson) and Kitty Kirwan (Jean Manson – seen in other classic films like I Know

Where I’m Going (1945) and Odd Man Out (1947)]. They were supported by actual islanders living on the location, the Isle of Fulva: and [rather Hitchcockian] Michael Powell as a Yachtsman.

The film opens as the yacht, with Andrew Gray, on-board as it sails into the small harbour. On a tour of the Island the trio come on a stone slab, marked ‘Gone Over’; marking the spot where Peter Manson fell. Then as Andrew wanders pass a croft and then the Kirk we enter a flashback to ten years earlier. Finally the film returns to the trio after detailing the mains story.

Three cinematographers worked on the film but the key lighting cameraman was Ernest Palmer [H.E.]who captured the beauty of the wild terrains and massive cliffs of the island. Nearly the whole of the film was shot on location with a few linking shots added at the studio. There is extensive use of superimpositions and these tie together the present and the past in the film. Presumably the experience of location filming stood him in good stead on a later film,  San Demetrio London (1943). The soundtrack was  by W. H. Sweeney and L. K. Tregellas, also excellent and combining actual sounds and music. The music includes three songs by the Glasgow Orpheus Choir. Music is mostly used for sequences that offer drama and heightened emotion.

The production team had to live on the island for several months from June till October, a long way from the studios which were the normal home of film crews. The latter stages saw them battling wind and rain. Michael Powell wrote the story: the script seems to have developed during the shoot, taking in rituals that were part of the actual Island life. The film was produced by a US émigré, Joe Rock, who ran a small independent studio near Elstree. Most of the technical crew had worked with Powell before. He had established himself with a number of ‘quota quickies’, including a recent success for the Rock Production Company The Man Behind the Mask (1936). The film’s pre-release was in the summer of 1937. Michael Powell recalled [in his autobiographical ‘A Life in the Movies’  (1986)]:

“The film opened at the New Gallery Cinema in Regent Street, now the London headquarters of the Seventh day Adventists, but then a rather classy movie theatre. [It is now a Burberry store, but the auditorium and its screen can still be seen and are used for promotional videos]. The critics gave it a cautious reviews. But my old admirer, C. A. Lejeune, writing in The Observer knew the difference between a lyric drama and a documentary, and said: “I hope everyone who can will make a point of seeing The Edge of the World. In some obscure judgement day, when these things are measured, I have a feeling it will come up somewhere near the top of English classics.”

And Basil Wright [of the British Documentary Movement] trumpeted in the Cinema: “If The Edge of the World achieves the success it so well deserves, it will be yet another reminder that vast production costs, exotic casts, and cosmopolitan scenarios are perhaps not the ultimate plan for the British Cinema.”

The film opened at the New Gallery Cinema in Regent Street, now the London headquarters of the Seventh day Adventists, but then a rather classy movie theatre. [It is now a Burberry store, but the auditorium and its screen can still be seen and are used for promotional videos]. The critics gave it a cautious reviews. But my old admirer, C. A. Lejeune, writing in The Observer knew the difference between a lyric drama and a documentary, and said: “I hope everyone who can will make a point of seeing The Edge of the World. In some obscure judgement day, when these things are measured, I have a feeling it will come up somewhere near the top of English classics.”

[Later] Joe Rock, who was fighting for the film, had sent a copy to New York to a small distributor, who submitted it to the National Board of Review film critics, and they chose it as one of the best foreign films of the year, which gave me a wonderful lift.”

This was well before British films won the occasional Academy Award. It was also seen and liked by film impresario Alexander Korda, And it was at his Denham Studio that Powell and Pressburger commenced the most memorable partnership in British Cinema.

The film was restored by the National Film Archive in 1990, though the present 35mm print is slightly shorter than the original release. The film was re-issued in cut version in 1940, running 62 minutes. The restoration runs 74 minutes. The print is good, though the is some variation on the  image, presumably due to different source material. And since 1990 it has suffered a few minor cuts, so we get what seem like ‘jump cuts’.

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Savage Messiah Britain 1972

Posted by keith1942 on August 10, 2016

Savage Messiah

This screening at the Hyde Park Picture was part of celebration of the film’s artistic protagonist, Henri Gaudier-Brzeska in 2011. The Henry Moore Institute in Leeds was hosting an exhibition ‘Savage Messiah: The Creation of Henri Gaudier-Brzeska’. We had been hoping then to hear Ken Russell introduce his film. However, he was unfortunately in hospital after suffering a ‘little’ stroke; he sadly succumbed and later died. So his friend and long-time editor Michael Bradsell introduced the film, reading out a letter from Ken’s sick- bed. He told us this was the favourite among his many fine films. It was understandable that British films foremost maverick should love a film about an early C20th artistic maverick.

The film primarily focuses on the stormy and unconventional relationship between Gaudier [Scot Antony) and Polish writer Sophie Brzeska (Dorothy Tutin). The joined surname is a symbol of their union, and Russell described one facet of it as ‘solitudes join up’, [quoting the German poet Rilke].

Michael Bradsell suggested that film had not been seen in a public screening for forty years, [the original West End release only ran five days: it was screened on television in the 1980s]. My memory of the film was that it was uneven, brilliant, but not completely so. The new screening fitted that memory. The film does depend on the central characterisation of Gaudier. Scot Antony seemed to me a one-note performance. He captures the restless and exuberant energy of youth, but not the complexity and angst that I certainly sense in Gaudier’s artistic work. But opposite him as Sophie Dorothy Tutin is magnificent. Her Sophie is contradictory, emotional, passionate, critical and obsessive. I felt that the best scenes in the film were when she was fully involved.


Henri and Sophie are [I believe] the only historical characters in the film. Gaudier was involved with British Vorticism, a movement also enjoying renewed interest at that moment. Russell and his screenwriter Christopher Logue created a set of fictional characters embodying some [but not all] of the characteristics of this artistic group. Their particular brand of experimentalism provided a grand opportunity for the sort of camp display that Russell so enjoyed. These included two visits to The Vortex club where their unconventional behaviour and performance were gloriously dramatised. This group also included an early film outing for Helen Mirren (‘Gosh’ Smith-Boyle], outlandish but performed with great assurance.

The screenplay was developed from a biography of Gaudier by H. S. Ede. This provided the title of the film: it also used the many letters between Henri and Sophie to develop their story. This effectively provided continuing and illuminating dialogue on the up and downs of their relationship and of his art.

The film offers two major settings, Paris and London. I found the Paris sequence fairly unconvincing; [the locations all appear to be English]. However, when the poverty-stricken couple cross the channel the film improves immeasurably. The focus in London is Gaudier’s Putney studio, a basement where a grill at eye-level, running the entirety of this long room, looks out on the street. Russell uses this as a canvas on which past the rapidly developing social events of the day. This is a rather theatrical device, but one which Russell [as in other films] delivers in beautiful cinematic form. The camera work is extremely good: apparently shot mostly in natural light by Dick Bush. The dark and shadowy basement is frequently illuminated by the wider world of the street. And there is the memorable design work of Derek Jarman.

It is in the basement that we see most of Gaudier’s artistic endeavour, especially the sculptures for which he is famous. Russell captures the effort and the energy that produced his work. There is less sense of his artistic purpose and philosophy, though there are a couple of monologues where he does expound his ideas. So the film captures the visual rather than the mental state of this artist.

Apparently Russell and his collaborators reworked Gaudier’s biography fairly freely in their dramatisation. He arrived in London in 1911. By 1915 he went off to the trenches of World War I where was he killed. The film presents this as a contradictory response to the devastation of the war: apparently the actual Gaudier was quite gung-ho about supporting the war, certainly in keeping with Vorticism and its major influence Futurism. His death is followed by a posthumous exhibition of his works, with the camera focusing on the many, varied and innovative sculptures. This sequence is intercut with the grieving Sophie. And the final shot shows her standing by a massive, unfinished sculpture in the studio. It is a beautiful visual image to close to a powerful film.


Whilst it is a film of light and shadows, it is not all doom and gloom. There is a delightful scene where Sophie serenades a dinner party with a pseudo-folk song. In another sequence Henri and Sophie explore and romance among the piles of stones at Portland. A night scene in a cemetery shows Gaudier and his friends purloining a marble for a sculpture: a scene, which takes us back to Russell much earlier work on the Pre-Raphaelites. And at the start of the film Gaudier drapes himself round a stature to the consternation of Parisians and the police. This last reminded me of the opening of Chaplin’s City Lights (1931), not the sort of reference I usually associate with Russell.

The qualities of the film certainly outshine its limitations. And the print, restored with assistance from the Institute, looked really good and showed up well on the big screen. Hopefully, its availability would temp more exhibitors to offer screenings of this important film. And then we might also get to see again Women in Love (1969) and The Devils (1971). In fact I have seen both the latter films again since 2011 but there has been no further sign of Savage Messiah.

Producer and director: Ken Russell. Screenplay: Christopher Logue from the book by H. S. Ede. Photography: Dick Bush. Editor: Michael Bradsell. Production designer: Derek Jarman. Music: Michael Garratt. UK 1972, 100 minutes. In Metrocolor.

Originally posted on ITP World.

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Our Little Sister / Umimachi Diary Japan 2015

Posted by keith1942 on May 8, 2016


This film was screened in the 29th Leeds International Film Festival and I thought it the pick in a strong programme. The film is adapted from a popular manga title by Koreeda Hirokazu, who also edited the film. It is the most recent in a line of family dramas in the tradition of the Japanese film genre, shomin-geki [shōshimin-eiga, the lives of ordinary working people]. These include Like Father / Soshite chichi ni naru (2013) involving parentage and children: I Wish / Kiseki (2011) about separated siblings: and Still Walking / Aruitemo aruitemo (2008) about adults and their ageing parents. Our Little Sister combines aspects of the earlier films with its main focus on four sisters. Three of these are the adult Koda sisters, Ayase Haruka as Sachi, Nagasawa Masami as Yoshino and Kaho as Chika. The ‘little sister’ has Hirose Suzu as Asano Suzu, their step-sister.

The film is set in Kamakura on the Yokohama peninsula; not that far away from Tokyo. The characters also travel at one point to the North-East and other characters from there. Kamakura is a small coastal town. The settings include the family home, urban and rural sites and the seashore.

The four sisters are beautifully played and the supporting cast are excellent. Their actions and conversations are totally believable. Detail is important and lovingly played in this film. Little touches like the picking and preparation of plums from the garden tree are very effective. And these actions play into a complex network of motifs that tell us as much about the characters as their words.

Koreeda and his team, notably cinematographer Takimoto Mikiya, offer fairly slow and detailed observation. Critics have made comparisons with the films of the great Ozu Yasijurō, but thematically this film is closer to the equally fine work of Naruse Mikio. There is loss but also resilience and the importance of memory and tradition. The film is a delicate study with moments of fine humour and irony. As with the earlier films food and meals are an important aspect of the lives and their study.

If you have not seen Koreeda’s films before this would make an excellent start. if you have you will know just how rewarding are his studies of family life. If we see half-a dozen equally fine films in 2016 then this year will be a classic. Note though, it has a very limited distribution. It seems the next screening locally is on the evening of Tuesday May 31st at Hebden Bridge Picture House.

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The Divide Britain 2015

Posted by keith1942 on April 22, 2016

Framing Keith

Framing Keith

This documentary was screened at the Hyde Park Picture House and followed by a Q&A with the director, Katherine Round. The film is ‘inspired’ by the best-selling The Spirit Level: Why More Equal Societies Almost Always Do Better by Richard Wilkinson and Kate Pickett (2009). There was an audience of around 200 for the event. This is probably partly due to the topicality of the central issue in the film: inequality. But also Katherine Round studied at Leeds University.

This is a powerful documentary with telling effects and arguments. But I felt that it also had severe limitations. To start with the virtues. The core of the film is the presentation of the part-stories and situations of seven people living in either the USA or UK.

Alden, a New York psychologist whose clients include Wall Street Bankers. He is affluent but works long hours and so has a diminished family life.

Leah is an Afro-American single mother in Virginia and she works in a Kentucky Fried Chicken diner.

Jen and her husband live in a gated’ community. They seem less affluent than their neighbours and appear isolated. Their income is unclear.

Janet and her husband ran a video store which failed. She now works for Al-Mart in Louisiana.

Rochelle is a care worker in Newcastle-on-Tyne. Her pay is low and her hours demanding. She has difficulty feeding and clothing her children.

Darren lives on an estate in Glasgow where poverty and unemployment are endemic. He has problems with addictions.

Keith is in a California Penitentiary. he fell foul of the ‘three strikes’ rule.

We meet and hear the seven several times and learn something of their situation and their lives. We also occasionally hear the interviewer Katherine Round. Alden and Jen seem somewhat dissatisfied with their lives. Leah is more buoyant about life and Janet is active in the union. Rochelle is hard-pressed to cope. Darren’s life is very problematic but he has some hopes. Whilst Keith, after seventeen years in jail, is extremely oppressed.

The interviews and film of these subjects is intercut with comments by professionals and academics. Among these we see and hear well known names such as the author Richard Wilkinson, Noam Chomsky and Ha-Joon Chang. There are clips of political leaders like Margaret Thatcher, Ronald Reagan and [briefly] Tony Blair at his most fatuous.

These are accompanied by archive films and television footage. They come from key years between 1979 [UK] and 1981 [USA] and the present. This is part of an argument regarding changes in the way these modern capitalist societies are organised, in particular the growing disparity between the bulk of the population and an extremely rich elite. The now familiar argument is made about how the elite, through their influence on political power, are able to not only defend but to aggrandize their share of the national cake.

The film is well shot by cinematographer Woody James. there are some excellent framing of subjects, especially Keith in the penitentiary. The editing by John Mister is extremely effective as it crosses time, the USA and the Atlantic. And the team of sound recordists have blended a variety of voices, noises and effects to good purpose, with much of the accompanying music offering a blues tone.

There were however for me serious limitation in this film. Katherine Round has worked on many documentaries for Television and I found the films’ form somewhat conventional. The film of and interviews with the subjects work very well, though the subjects do not get an equal amount of time. And the commentative voices do seem a little like ‘talking heads’. Noam Chomsky, for example, appears a couple of times with only one or two sentences: and he is not known for his brevity. Some of the illustrative material, like the adverts, feel like the visual spots in the news, filling space rather than informing. And the identification of voices or footage is not consistent. I thought that some film of the subjects could have been older footage, but this was not clear.

In terms of the inspiration by The Spirit Level, the film does not follow the book, which was very much a presentation of research. This is a more poetic vision. However, I think this approach does not present all of the book’s view. In the Q&A one audience member remarked on the absence from the film of the ‘top one percent’. Round suggested that all of the subjects were in some sense disadvantaged and therefore dissatisfied. I thought that was in the film but the sense of the oppressiveness of lives for the most exploited was much clearer. And the idea behind this ignores the way that economic impacts are more fundamental than psychological ones.

Part of the problem is that the film does not have a clear sense of class. There is a lack of economic data on the subjects. We learn that Alden gets 1500 dollars for treating clients, but we do not learn about the income of the others. In Jen’s case it is not clear where her family income comes from. Rochelle confesses to having to buy food and clothes on her credit card as she waits for payday. Leah and Janet have their own houses apparently, whilst Rochelle and Darren appear to live in council hosing. But otherwise we are left in the dark.

In fact the film spends more time on housing than income or wealth. There is more material on ‘gated communities’ than other aspects. This seems to relate to the role of ‘sub-prime mortgages’ in the 2008 crash. The geography of the film is problematic. We have widely scattered abodes across the USA: and the film does not really address the way that the different settings vary. Even more problematic is the cross-over between the USA and UK. I am not really sure I you compare the Southern USA with northern Britain. The settings are as varied as the class position of the subjects.

The analysis in the film is limited in other ways. The main argument concerns changes in the advanced capitalist economies since the 1980s. An argument that has moved centre stage since the 2008 crash. But there appears to be an unexpressed acceptance of the capitalist mode of production. A venture capitalist defends his ‘wealth making’ without challenge. Several speakers talk of how things have ‘got out of hand’. And a couple, including Chomsky, refer to the ‘unregulated market’ and that we no longer all ‘play by the same set of rules’. The anarchy of the market is at the centre of capitalism but the fundamental aspect of this mode of production is the commodity and the way that the value created in it by labour power is expropriated by the capitalist class. On the platform with Katherine Round was an equality campaigner [whose name I did not catch]. He referred to the minimum wage: a valid defensive tactic but not one that changes the fundamentals. There was no sense of the arguments by Marx and Engels that the basic mechanism of this society leads to expropriation and so inequality.

Moreover the historical view in the film is extremely limited. So it fails to draw any parallels with the 1929 crash and The Great Depression. One could tell seven stories from the 1930s that parallel those in The Divide and here we are again. [CBS documentary Meltdown: The Global Financial Collapse series draws the comparison]. And the realisation that it is a fundamental issue predates Marx and Engels. A hundred years earlier Jean-Jacques Rousseau wrote in The Social Contract, or Of the Social Contract, or Principles of Political Right (Du contrat social ou Principes du droit politique; 1762) that what was required was that

“no citizen is rich enough to buy another, and none poor enough to be forced to sell himself.”

Even so the film is worth seeing, because there is not that much critical material around. It screens again at the Hyde Park on April 27th and it will screen at Picturehouse at the National Media Museum on May 31st.

Posted in British films, Documentary, Movies with messages | Tagged: , | Leave a Comment »

Jeanne Dielman, 23 Quai du Commerce 1080 Bruxelles, Belgium, France 1975

Posted by keith1942 on April 14, 2016

Son and mother

Son and mother

Over the last year A Nos Amours have made available several films by Chantal Ackerman who died in 2015. None of these reached Leeds unfortunately. However in 2013 this film was screened at the Leeds International Film Festival on a 35mm print. It is an almost flawless masterpiece. I write flawless because it seemed to me that the film perfectly captures the intent of its writer and director Chantal Ackerman. It is a film where the distinction that we usually make between form and content is almost redundant, because they are in complete synchrony.

The film charts almost three days in the life of the widow Jeanne and her son Sylvain. That she is a widow is important: a photograph of her wedding day, with her husband, stands on her dressing room table. The critics quoted in the Catalogue uses the term ‘single mother’, but certainly in English ‘widow’ and ‘single mother’ have very different connotations.

On the first day, Wednesday, we join the routine of Jeanne as housewife and mother. Her day includes looking after a neighbour’s baby, shopping, domestic duties and preparing meals: and of a different order, servicing regular male clients whilst her son is out at school. Her activities are all performed with methodical care. And this is also true of the evenings when her son Sylvain returns home. There is a simple meal. Reading to help retain his French accent as he is attending a Flemish school: reading a letter from a married sister in Canada. And there is a constitutional walk before bedtime. Of a slightly different character is the bedtime exchange when the son probes his mother’s past emotional life.

Thursday the second day seems very similar. But we notice small discords that intrude on Jeanne’s routines. Another male client attends, but the transaction seems little different from the preceding day. The son’s bedtime questions are more probing and personal, including emotional comments on the dead father.

On Friday, day three, the discords become much more apparent and Jeanne’s growing disquiet moves from subtle expression to clear disruptions. It is on day three that a dramatic event occurs. This completely breaks down Jeanne’s life of orderly routine but also shines a strong illumination on all that has gone before. The ending of the film leaves a number of conventional plot questions unresolved, but exposes the contradictions under which Jeanne has laboured.

Domestic labour

Domestic labour

The film is shot predominantly in mid-shot with occasional long shots. The rhythm of the film is slow; whole sequences are often filmed in one take. And the sound track on the film is natural and diegetic. The audience is asked to watch and consider. Since the film runs for 201 minutes this is quite an ask. But I found, and other audience members concurred, that the film did not seem anywhere as long as that.

As the title suggests Jeanne’s labour as a prostitute is presented as an example of commodity exchange. And the routines that she follows when preparing for her clients emphasises this aspect. In fact we do not see the actual acts of intercourse on the Wednesday or Thursday. However we do enter the bedroom for the coitus on the Friday. This act is clearly of a different order from those of the preceding days. Essentially the use value and exchange value of Jeanne’s sexuality come into conflict at this point.

Whilst the events on the Friday are likely to take the audience by surprise, the film is careful to prepare the ground, though this is done in a low-key and fairly subtle manner. But the methodical behaviour that Jeanne follows, and the increasing discrepancies that become apparent, both lead up to the climax. Seeing the film again I noted the neon sign in the street creates a flashing reflection which is seen on the sitting room wall in the evenings Jeanne spends with her son. Now this seems like a premonition with a strong film noir flavour.

The LIFF Catalogue refers to the influence of two of the USA avant-garde filmmakers, Michael Snow and Andy Warhol. This is noticeable in the importance of space and time in the film. Ackerman herself has acknowledged the influence of Marguerite Duras and Jean-Luc Godard. The latter possibly influenced the way that the film uses repetition and ellipsis to present the routines of Jeanne. What struck me was the way that the film uses props in the mise en scène, also relying on the depth of field, and recalling the Japanese director Yasujiro Ozu, another acknowledged influence. I found the similarity especially pronounced in the long shots along corridors.

If the film’s direction is beautifully modulated then this is also true of the central performance by Delphine Seyrig. Her Jeanne is some way removed from her character in Last Year in Marienbad (L’Année dernière à Marienbad, 1961). Indeed that film’s director Alain Resnais is another obvious influence. Whilst the two films are very different, what they share is a formal rigour.

The screening used a fairly good 35mm print, with only a few noticeably worn sections. So it showed off the production skills of Babette Mangolte’s cinematography, Patricia Canino’s editing and Alain Marchall’s sound editing.

Along with the films A Nos Amours arranged an exhibition of Ackerman’s Installations.

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Victim Britain 1961

Posted by keith1942 on March 9, 2016

63 'Victim', 1961

I was able to revisit this film when the Hyde Park Picture House screened it in a fine 35mm print. The film stands up well. It has a strong cast and is generally well filmed if in a rather conventional style. It is a seminal film of the early 1960s, basically because it addresses explicitly the question of sexual orientation and homosexuality. Homosexual practice was illegal in the UK in this period though the 1958 Wolfenden Report had recommended liberalisation. Gay people had suffered from police harassment and prosecutions. By 1961 the police were generally more laid back, partly because the law was seen as a ‘blackmailer’s charter’ and gay men as easy but innocent victims. The film reflects these aspects in its plot and characters. It is worth noting that the moral panics around paedophilia are much more recent. There are slight references to ‘corruption’ in the film but modern films on the issue would likely be more pronounced. In fact I saw the film in the same week as Spotlight (USA 2015) and that film is centrally constructed around the issue of abuse.

Dirk Bogarde plays Melvin Farr, a successful lawyer who has had a relationship with a younger man, ‘Boy’ Barrett (Peter McInery). Farr is married to Laura (Sylvia Syms) though they have no children. He had had a previous same sex relationship at University and Laura knew about this before they were married. Barrett is being blackmailed and because he loves/is besotted with Farr he steals at work to pay off the blackmailers. So the police enter the picture. Barrett commits suicide in custody. Farr, who initially refused contact with Barrett, is now struck by guilt and determines to hunt down the blackmailers. This involves him in seeking out gay men being blackmailed: some of whom turn out to be his own friends and professional colleagues.

The police question Barrett

The police question Barrett

The thriller format allows the film to appear primarily as a genre piece. It even has a rather heavy handed red herring. But it is a noir thriller, full of chiaroscuro lighting.  Characters are constantly presented in shadow. There is one intriguing scene early in the film when Melville returns home late and finds Laura still up: she has risen to answer the telephone. It was Barrett but Laura is still unaware of the implications. As they ascend the stairs Melville tells her he loves her and they embrace. Yet both are in deep shadow and the clinch is hardly visible. At other times full illumination falls on a character: one such point is at the moment that Farr realises that Barrett’s death is a sacrifice for his interests.

The cinematography is fairly typical of mainstream films of the period, moving from long shots to mid-shots and then close-ups, especially at moments of intense drama. There are frequent dollies and tracks, and less often crane shots and high and low angle camera settings for particular emphasis. The editing uses frequent parallel cuts, to draw links between characters and events. So in the opening section of the film we first see Barrett on the building site where he works as a wages clerk. There is a crane shot with high angle camera as the police arrive. The following sequences cut between Barrett as he desperately seeks help from his friends and gay acquaintances: the police as they close in on Barrett: and Farr, who refuses to engage with Barrett’s phone calls. As these sequences progress we move from daylight to night and to an increasing noir sensibility.

The film uses quite a number of scenes shot on actual location. Four of these are exteriors of the Farr house. On the second occasion Melville returns in his car and parks. A tilt and pan follow him as he looks to his right. A cut with an eye-line match shows a disconsolate Laura standing by the river. However, the locations do not match. The first shot shows railing and shrubs on the offside, the reverse shot shows a low wall with the river and a panorama beyond. The reverse shot is presumably to emphasise the desolation felt by Laura, but most locations seem mainly to present a particular sense of place.

The gay character are an interesting cross-section: including an actor Calloway (Dennis Price): a photographer Paul Mandrake (Peter Copley) : a prominent lawyer Lord Fullbrook (Anthony Nicholls): a car salesman Phip (Nigel Stock):a hairdresser Harold Doe (Norman Bird) and a bookshop owner Henry (Charles Lloyd Pack). These characters are presented in a relatively sympathetic fashion. Interestingly the main villain, Sandy (Derren Nesbit) has a rather homoerotic air to his flat: including a punch ball and an illustration of a  classical nude male sculpture. In fact the most stereotypical characterisation is a police plain clothes officer (John Bennett), who is presumably straight. The key straight character appears to be Barrett’s friend Eddy (Donald Churchill) who assist Barrett at the beginning and then Farr in his investigation.

Harold with Sandy

Harold with Sandy

There are other straight characters, and frequently they express distaste for homosexuals. At an early stage Barrett seeks help from his friend Frank (Alan Howard): and Frank’s girlfriends Sylvie (Dawn Beret) is adamant that

“I wouldn’t have him at home. … Why can’t he stay with his own kind?”

A little later as they embrace at bedtime Frank remarks to Sylvie that Barrett

“hasn’t got what you and I’ve got.”

The two key policeman are Detective Inspector Harris (John Barrie) – relatively liberal in his attitude – and his aide Bridie (John Cairney) who clearly finds homosexuals distasteful. The barman (Frank Petitt) at a regular haunt for Barrett and friends is amicable in their presence but scathing about them when they are gone. And Sandy’s assistant in the blackmail, Miss Benham (Margaret Diamond) is [according to Sandy]

‘a cross between an avenging angel and a peeping Tom’

with regard to homosexuals. It is her who comes up with the idea of daubing Farr’s garage with

“Farr is Queer”.

Another character who finds homosexuality problematic is Laura’s brother Scott (Alan MacNaughton), also a lawyer. At one point, when he realises about Melville’s orientation, Scott questions Laura about her marriage, asking ‘have you been satisfied’. To this Laura responds that Melville has been ‘kind and understanding’ adding the rider ‘it’s all I’ve known’.

It is pointed that Melville and Laura have no children. In fact, Laura has taken on a day-time teaching job even though she does not need to work for money. It is a ‘working with difficult kids’. We see the children several times in the film. At one potent point Laura is observing a problem child who is, at this moment, painting in a relaxed manner. She peruses a newspaper and then starts as she reads the report of Barrett’s suicide; matters start to fall into place. Immediately the child, in a spasm, daubs his picture of a woman’s head with striking crosses.

In fact, little is made of the question of adult homosexuals and younger males. Barrett clearly has had a relationship prior to Melville with Harold, the older book shop owner. In a scene where Melville meets three gay men and realises their orientation one remarks that ‘ he has never corrupted the normal’. Scott, who is a widower, tells Laura that he fears that his son Ronnie could come to ‘hero worship’ Melville.

The most powerful scene in which the film addresses the issue of gay sex is when Laura, having realised that there is some sort of relationship between Melville and Barrett, questions him. Melville insists that the relationship was platonic. But he goes on to admit that

‘I wanted him’.

This powerful moment was not in the original script but was added at Bogarde’s insistence and with him proposing the dialogue. For the period it is a moment of dramatic and unconventional intensity.

Laura questions Melville

Laura questions Melville

But Farr has clearly repressed his desires. When Mandrake refers to the young man with whom Melville had a relationship at University and who later committed suicide [again!] Melville strikes him. In an early version of the film the script had Melville telling Laura that

“Only religion can help any man who falls in love with those of his own sex but knows that he should deny himself in the interests of society.”

The change is a definite improvement. However there is a short sequence, after Melville’s ‘confession’, when he is seen leaving a churchyard: it is as if he has been to religious confession.

The script had been written by Janet Green and John McCormick. They were a wife and husband team with Green obviously the key writer. She had worked on a number of films produced by Michael Relph and directed by Basil Dearden. Interestingly a little earlier all three were involved with Sapphire (1959). This was also a film with a thriller format. In this case the central focus was racism, dramatised by an investigation of a young woman who was of ‘mixed race’. In that film also there was distinction between a liberal police inspector and his more obviously prejudiced subordinate. As with Victim and homosexuality, the treatment of “race” was problematic. In fact that film has less apparent sympathy for the black characters than Victim displays for its gay ones.

Relph and Dearden were an important team in 1950s and early 1960s British cinema. Among their output were a number of social problem films. Cage of Gold {1950) is set in the then new National Health Service. I Believe in You (1952) deals with parole officers and delinquency. And there is Pool of London (1951). This film demonstrates equally how their social consciousness is limited by the attitudes of the time. A subplot allows a tentative romance to develop between Johnny Lambert (Earl Cameron – a frequent black face in British films of the period including Sapphire) and Pat (Susan Shaw, blonde and white). But it cannot be realised. There is a key scene where as Pat leaves on a bus Johnny leans forward to kiss her, and the bus starts off with a jolt!

This sort of inhibition is apparent in Victim. So we never see any actual physical contact between any of the men. In fact, the blackmail is constructed round a photograph taken of Melville and Barrett in the former’s car through a telephoto lens. But the audience never see the photograph, though it is shown to several characters. And the final moment of the film shows Melville burns the photo. Odd, as it would presumably be evidence in the prosecution that the films’ plot proposed in the resolution though the police do have the negative.

There are more subtle hints to audiences. Early in the film Barrett visits Harold in his bookshop. As they enter his study, in the foreground of the image, a kettle is about to boil. This would seem a steal/homage from Crossfire (USA 1947) in which there is a similar shot of a bubbling coffee pot. Harold runs his own hairdressing salon: indeed one of his customers is Calloway. As Farr travels in Lord Fulbrook’s car at night they pass the building site where Barrett worked. The building is topped by the sign ‘Trollope and Colls’. Spelt as ‘trollop’ the term applies to promiscuous women: here, is it coincidence or comment?

Melville’s home is primarily of the professional class, with a housekeeper. But in the lounge, lined up on the mantelpiece are a line of C19th military toys. All in the flamboyant and skin tight uniform of the early part of the century. They are most visible in a close-up of Melville as he leans over the fire and confesses to Laura.

Even with what may now appear extreme reticence the film encountered problems with the British Board of Film Censors. There is a detailed discussion of this in James C. Robertson key study, The Hidden Cinema British Film censorship in action, 1913 – 1975 (Routledge 1989). Predictably the Boards censors had problems with the film. The fairly long-serving Audrey Field commented:

The synopsis reads perfectly all right: it is a sympathetic, perceptive, moral and responsible discussion of a problem…. But the film may well be a bit of a problem: it is very oppressive … to be confronted with a world peopled with practically no one but `queers’; and there are precious few other characters in this synopsis. Great tact and discretion will be needed if this project is to come off, and the `queerness’ must not be laid on with a trowel.

However, John Trevelyan was the recently appointed secretary and he was more sympathetic to the project. But he also had his reservation,

It is, I think, most important that the division of public opinion should be reflected in this, or any other film dealing with the subject, and I think it would be wise to treat the subject with the greatest discretion. Furthermore, I think it is really important that a film of this subject should be one of serious purpose and should not include any material which might lead to sensationalism and would lessen its claim to seriousness.

Dearden revised the script and the final film involved this response:

“Their reaction was largely favour­able, but four dialogue objections emerged. In the scene between Mel and his wife when he first divulges to her his homosexual urges, she says, `You were attracted to that boy as a man would be to a girl?’ and he replies, `Because I wanted him. Do you understand? Because I wanted him.’ The BBFC sought the deletion of the underlined words, and the report on the film continued:

Reel 8 We don’t like the scene between Mel and the three men in Mandrake’s studios, where we feel that the case for homosexual practices between consenting adults is too plausibly put and not sufficiently countered. (There was more from Mel about self-control in the last script we read.) We think that this scene should be shortened. Reel 9 We think that the statement `there’s a moment of choice for almost every adolescent boy’ is too sweeping and not a good idea to put into the minds of adolescents in the audience.

Reel 11 … vindictive outburst against homosexuals is likely to give a spurious justification for the kind of blackmail shown in the film; and some reduction would be desirable.

These issues were taken up with Relph, and Trevelyan subsequently met him and Basil Dearden. Evidently they put up a strong fight against the proposed cuts for an `X’ certificate award, for in the event the BBFC insisted upon only the deletion in the ninth reel of the dialogue about adolescent boys. This represented a cut of merely a few feet, on which basis the BBFC allowed Victim on 1 June 1961.

So little was cut but Dearden his team had bought the screenplay closer to the wishes of the Board. There is a slight oddity here as there is apparently a ninety minute cut of the film, which would mean ten minutes deleted from the producers version. But from Robertson’s research it would appear that only a very light cut was demanded. Even so, the film received an X Certificate. Nearly all of the really interesting British films of this period suffered the X certificate, including Saturday Night and Sunday Morning (1960). However, times change and over the years the certification had reduced, first to 15 under the new categories, then 12 and finally PG.

Trevelyan, in What the Censor Saw (Michael Joseph 1973) recorded the rather different response that film received in the USA.

“As an example of this I remember being surprised that a Code Seal (a seal of approval) was given to Suddenly Last Summer in 1959, a film that included almost all known sexual perversions, but refused in 1961 to a British film called Victim which was a thriller with a background of homosexual blackmail: when I asked the reason for this I was told that the former film did not violate Section III (6) of the Code -‘Sex perversion or any inference of it is forbidden’ – because the perversions were never specified, whereas the later film violated it because homosexuality was specifically referred to.”

What a difference several decades makes!

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Strangers on a Train, USA 1951.

Posted by keith1942 on May 8, 2015

strangers on a train poster

I was able to revisit this film at the Leeds Young Film Festival. We were fortunate to have the film in a relatively good 35mm print. Intriguingly I realised later that this was the ‘pre-release’ version, which only came to light in 1995. Michael Walker, in Hitchcock’s Motifs (2005), provides a description of this version: it has additional footage but lacks the final humorous encounter by Guy and Ann on a train. Michael also makes the point that Strangers on a Train has the greatest number of the motifs that he identified across Hitchcock’s work: this makes it not only a very enjoyable but also a very interesting film.

The film has a striking opening as we follow two pairs of shoes from a taxi rank through Central Station to a waiting train. The shoes suggest something of the owners. The camera shots are deliberately placed in opposing angles. And when the shoes finally meet in the lounge car on the train a slight nudge provides an introduction. Guy Haynes [Farley Granger) is a restrained conventional character, a successful tennis star: he works for a US senator and is having a romance with his daughter Ann (Ruth Roman). Bruno Anthony (Robert Walker) does not work but lives off his affluent parents: He is coded as gay. He appears exuberant and is obviously unconventional. What they have in common is a problem: in Guy’s case a separated and pregnant wife who will not divorce him: in Bruno’s case a father who he finds oppressive, ‘I hate him’. Out of this chance encounter the original Patricia Highsmith novel developed a distinctive murder mystery. If you are familiar with Highsmith’s writings then it will come as no surprise that the film makes considerably alterations to the plot of the novel, especially in the latter stages. Whilst the script removes the darker aspects of the novel it also introduces effective additions: for example the issue of competitive tennis which provides a suspenseful climatic sequence.

The audience can enjoy a film that has many of Hitchcock’s virtues. The plotting is ingenious and absorbing. The mechanics of the murder investigation are carefully spread out over the film. The character of the apparently innocent man provides a moral force to the tale. And the stylistic touches, including expressionist techniques and carefully suspenseful editing, add to the brio and allure of the film.

The most notable of these techniques is a reflection of a murder in the lenses of a pair of spectacles. The spectacles are passed to Guy by Bruno and then seem to disappear from the plot. They clearly suggest overtones of guilt but unlike another object – a lighter – their fate is unknown. Michael Walker also draws attention to another facet – both Miriam and Ann’s sister Patricia (Patricia Hitchcock) have a similar look, partly due to the spectacles they wear. He makes a general point regarding women characters who wear spectacles:


Apart from the connotations of ‘cleverness’ (in itself, a potential threat to a man), they also serve to draw attention to the fact that she was looking and lent her a certain intensity, the sort of intensity that men, apparently, find disturbing.

This is apt, for both Miriam and Patricia are ‘sassy’ women: they answer back to men. Miriam does this in an argument with Guy: Patricia to her father, a patriarchal figure who is also a lawmaker. Ann on the other hand is the dependent non-threatening woman. She stands by Guy even to the point when he appears to be guilty of a crime.

This gives the film a subversive edge, but the resolution – different from that offered by Patricia Highsmith – recoups this for the audience.


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A Matter of Life and Death,

Posted by keith1942 on April 23, 2015


This film recently, screened in the Leeds Young Film Festival, is one of the finest of the collaborations between Michael Powell and Emeric Pressburger. It has a well-written script, the assemblage of conventional and unconventional film techniques, and an oddly quirky but romantic sense of British/English culture. Moreover the film includes contributions by one of the best production teams that Powell and Pressburger worked with. There is Jack Cardiff, possibly the finest cinematographer to work in the Technicolor format. Alfred Junge and Hein Heckwith’s Production Design are both stylish and apt. The editing by Reginald Mills offers the necessary continuity but at other points introduces contrast and counterpoint. And Allan Gray, who had already worked on I Know Where I’m Going, provides music that is both apt and offers well grounded motifs.

There is also a very fine cast. David Niven combines feeling with a sharp edge in the character of Squadron leader Peter Cartwright:

”We also saw, for the first time, the real David Niven: shrewd, kind, quick-witted and full of fantasy, the image of our hero Peter …”

Kim Hunter achieves a genuine sense of emotional feeling as June:

“When she acted, imagination and intelligence showed in every line she spoke.”

Between them Roger Livesey manages the character of Dr. Frank Reeves as on one hand a bluff Englishman, on the other hand one with a strain of committed idealism. And Marius Goring is a sheer delight as the French aristocrat reduced to heavenly work as Conductor 71. There is a Powell regular Kathleen Byron, unfortunately, apart from one fleeting Technicolor close-up, only seen in the monochrome sequences of the film. Robert Coote is the cheery, but now dead, radio operator [sparks] Bob. And then there are visiting stars like Raymond Massey (as Abraham Farlan) bringing the requisite ‘American’ touch to the film.

The plot of the film involves earth and ‘the other world’; though the word ‘heaven’ pops up in the dialogue. And the odyssey of the hero, crossing from life to death, would seem to address for many in the contemporary audience a sense of an after life, which still retained religious connotations. The film certainly speaks to the loss and grief, which was the experience of so many who themselves survived the war.

Revisiting the film for the umpteenth time I was struck by the complexity of tropes, motifs and generic facets that combine in this film. The Red Shoes offers a greater intensity: Black Narcissus offers more exotic and sensuous settings: but this film seems to explore the philosophical predilections of the duo in great depth. The complexity can be illustrated to a degree by looking at the generic aspects of the film.

War Movie:


This is the obvious aspect of the plot: a love affair threatened by the exigencies of armed conflict. After the introduction the film offers a splendid sequence as a crippled Lancaster bomber attempts to return to its base and England. The military personnel and institutions dominate both the earthly sequences and the heavenly sequences of the film. Whilst the film does not dwell on sadness and loss, we are constantly reminded by characters who have paid the ultimate price in armed conflict.


This offers the emotional heart of the film and viewers are likely to identify with and root for the young lovers. In classic generic mould love is threatened by forced separation. Whilst familiarly this has a religious aspect the film manages to find a daring alternative to the norm. The technique of monochrome and Technicolor alternation reaches a climax when ‘the other world’ finally enters its rich palette. And in terms of that film study favourite Propp we have – a villain – Farlan: a donor – Reeves: a helper – Bob: a princess – June: a dispatcher – Conductor 71: a hero/victim – Peter. All we are missing is a false hero.

Peter June

An Atlanticist paean:

This particular type of film is especially strong in the war years and early post-war years. Powell and Pressburger’s earlier films touch on the topic of the ‘special relationship’ between Great Britain [as it then liked to term itself] and the United States. The 49th Parallel is set in Canada but clearly wishes to draw political parallels between the culture of Britain and the culture of North America. The presence of Raymond Massey in both films is intriguing. In A Matter of Life and Death the script deftly resolves past tensions and cements the new alliance in the union of ‘British boy’ and ‘American girl’.

Science fiction:

Not an immediately obvious genre for the film but the opening sequence takes us on a brief trawl across the universe and then arrive on earth. Early in the film Conductor 71 is able to make ‘time stand still’ or as he explains

“We are talking in space not time.”

This is a staple of the genre: one can imagine that G. K. Dick enjoyed or would have enjoyed this film. Moreover in the heavenly sequences we have that familiar pre-occupation of the science fiction film, the form of a future society. Sci-fi’s preoccupation with technology is there with the military hardware and with the Camera Obscure: and one shot of the ‘heavenly records’ looked from above like a modern computer board.


Psychological drama:

Peter is suffering from a mental illness, but aspects of it can be seen as a form of psychosis. The title tell us that one world

“… exists only in the mind …”

The film, unlike Hitchcock’s Spellbound (1945), is not that interested in the psychoanalytical. However it share with the Hollywood film psychological states presented in dream sequences and a very distinctive mise en scène for these.

Medical drama:

The central conflict of the film resolves around the illness suffered by Peter and the treatment of this by the several doctors. And the climatic sequences of the film cut between heaven and the operating theatre. Indeed to the resolution of the film is at once both medical and judicial.

Courtroom drama:

The climax and resolution of the film occur in the heavenly court. And in earlier sequences we have briefings between prosecutors and between the defendant and his counsel. Very cleverly the film crosses over between its two worlds in these characters. The final witty touch is that one and the same actor plays surgeon and judge.

Political film:

This type of film is not that common in British cinema. But a sense of wider political culture informs a number of Powell and Pressburger’s films: especially The Life and Death of Colonel Blimp and A Canterbury Tale. But this film addresses such values in the most direct manner and takes these issues farther. Especially in the declamations to the court by Prosecutor Farlan and Defence Council Dr Reeves we hear aired both contemporary political debates and past debates that still inform the presence.

A film about literature:


Peter Cartwright is a poet and he is inclined to frequently quote other poets including Andrew Marvell and refers to the classics, as with Plato. We have witty rehearsal of a scene from Shakespeare’s A Midsummer Night’s Dream: Dr Reeves has published in medical journals: Conductor 71 ‘borrows’ a book on chess from Peter: and literary figures loom large on the impressive staircase running from earth to heaven. At the resolution the Judge makes a witty remark about Sir Walter Scot.

A film about cinema:

The obvious point here is Dr Reeves’ Camera Obscura. And there is the use of both monochrome and Technicolor cinematography. Conductor 71, on the first visit to this world [earth], remarks,

“One if starved for Technicolor up there.”

Numerous critics have discussed the striking techniques involved in a monochrome ‘heaven’ and a Technicolor earth. But the eyelids that close at the start of the operation also have a cinematic feel.

Canine friendly:


The film starts well. Peter walks along a beach, under the misapprehension he is in the ‘other world’, heaven? A black Labrador barks at him and as he walks over to pat the dog he remarks,

“Oh, I always hoped there would be dogs.”

A little later, as Dr. Reeves unveils his new lens on his Camera Obscura: his view of the village is shared by two cocker spaniels [belonging to Michael Powell. But then the cut that introduces June also removes the dogs and they never ere-appear. A mainstream convention that Powell and Pressburger often avoid.

This rich tapestry of motifs and references is one factor which enables the film to work for an audience seventy years on from its initial release. The film’s sense of Englishness and of ‘American’ culture have now past on, in the manner of Farlan and even Reeves, in the film’s plot. But the cultural sensibilities the two filmmakers and their colleagues bought to the work continue to effect a rewarding 104 minutes of proper cinematic pleasures.


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Once Upon a Time in Anatolia / Bir zamanlar Anadolu’da, Turkey 2011.

Posted by keith1942 on March 21, 2015


This is the film that has most impressed me in this new century of cinema. I saw it three times during its UK release. The third occasion was at the Hyde Park Picture House in Leeds. One of the volunteers there, Rachel, grades films from 1 to 10. She explained that a ‘10’ is a film she needs/wants to see twice. I told her this was my third viewing of this film: she reckoned that would make it an 11. After the screening I saw her again in the foyer and we both praised the sequence which includes an apple rolling down a slope into a stream. It is that sequence that I want to discuss in more detail.

First to contexualise the film. It is directed by Nuri Bilge Ceylan, already well known in ‘art film’ circles for earlier films like Climates (Iklimler, 2006) and Three Monkeys (Uc maymum. 2008). The film was scripted by Ercan Kesal, Ebru Ceylan [married to the director] and Nuri Bilge Ceylan. An outstanding feature of the film is the luminous cinematography by Göhkan Tiryaki: and there is an excellent sound track edited by Thomas Robert and fine art direction by Dilek Yapkuőz Ayaztuna.

The setting is the Steppes in Central Anatolia; part of ‘Turkey in Asia’. The film commences at evening, continues overnight and through the next morning: the setting is clearly contemporary: witness the mobile phones and computers used by characters. Bizarrely the UK distributor’s trailer suggested that the tale is a flashback to ’20 years ago’, clearly misinterpreting a line of dialogue in the film.

The film opens with Production Company credits, and then a short sequence with a shot of men through a clouded window. The camera dollies slightly and we see three men in conversation, drinking and laughing. There is a cut to an exterior long shot as one man comes out and feeds a dog: there is a roll of thunder. A passing lorry acts as a wipe and we are presented with the cast and production credits. The sound of the lorry braking carries on over the credits, followed by bird sounds, the wind, distant barking, and an animal [the dog?) shaking. Such noises are frequently heard on the soundtrack. As the film progresses we learn that the men we have just seen are Yaşar (Erol Erarslan) who apparently owns the garage, and two brothers Kenan (Firat Taniş) and Ramazan (Burhan Yildiz).

The story proper opens in a long shot at night on a lonely road as dusk deepens: the landscape is hilly with long valleys. The headlights of cars appear travelling along the road. These night-time scenes are beautifully lit and photographed. Night-time driving and thunderstorms are two tropes that appeared in earlier Ceylan films. The cars, two saloons and a jeep, pull up at a spot with a stone fountain and a solitary tree. We will visit several sites with these features over the next hour: the first three lie above the roadway. The cars contain ‘Mr’ Prosecutor Nusret (Taner Birsel) and his driver Tevfik (Uğur Arslannoğlu), Abidin, the court recorder (Şafak Karali) and Hayrettin (Fevzi Müftüoğlu) and Ethem (Turgay Kürkçü), two ‘diggers’; the second car contains the Commissar/Chief Naci (Yilmaz Erdoğan) and his assistants, the driver Arab Ali (Ahmet Müntaz Taylan) and Izzet (Murat Kiliç) together with Doctor Cemal (Muhammet Uzuner) and Kenan, now a suspect in a murder case. The jeep contains a Sergeant Őnder (Emre Şen) of the Gendarmes together with a subordinate Mehmet (Hamam Scrubber) and Ramazan, also a suspect. The convoy is trying to identify the spot where the murdered man [Yaşar] is buried, but Kenan is vague about the whereabouts apart from the presence of a fountain and a tree.

The first stop is not the right place. The convoy drives on and we hear a conversation among the police about ‘Buffalo Yoghurt ‘. They reach a second possible site. On this occasion the diggers are called to check a ploughed field alongside the fountain, but this is not the spot either. At this point we are starting to get close-ups of the different characters and a sense of their identities.

The convoy travels on and Naci receives a call on his mobile phone from his wife, she is just an inaudible voice in the background. There is also a brief stop, as the Prosecutor Nusret has to take a piss: the police joke about this.

At the third site, whilst Naci questions Kenan about whether this is the place, Doctor Cemal walks up the hill to take a piss. He stops by a small rock outcrop; thunder and lightning have now started up. And a flash illuminates a sculptured head in the rock. Back at the cars the convoy travels on.

Then a new site which falls away below the road. The Gendarme’s jeep is manoeuvred to illuminate the area. Naci sets off downhill with Kenan. Meanwhile there is a conversation alongside the car between the Cemal and Arab Ali. However, on second viewing I realised from the camera angles that part of this is not a conversation: it is two interior monologues, first by Ali and then by the Cemal, though all of it could be in the mind of the Cemal, who is privileged in close-ups. It is here that we get the line from Arab of ‘Once Upon a Time in Anatolia’, however, he is suggesting that the doctor will look back at these events in the future. This technique of rendering exchanges ambiguous is one that recurs in the film.

The convoy sets off again and we arrive at another site, also down below the road. Here, 35 minutes into the film, is the sequence on which I wish to focus.


Nusret intervenes between Naci and Kenan.

Nusret intervenes between Naci and Kenan.

It opens with an establishing shot lasting about 30 seconds, as the cars’ headlights follow a road into hills: behind the sky is full of dark clouds. They are approaching a bend in the road at a fold in the hillside. There is a cut to a camera angle at the bend. The cars arrive, stop and the occupants get out. Naci checks with Kenan, then points “It could be there”. Naci sets off with Izzet and Kenan, first calling for the gendarmes to turn the jeeps’ headlight on the spot. They head downhill into a culvert with a stream: Naci gets his foot wet, to his annoyance. They walk up the slope on the other side where there are a number of trees. Naci calls the diggers to follow. The camera makes two small pans to follow their progress. Two minutes into the shot Nusret moves into the left foreground. The camera cuts to a mid-shot and we see the Cemal standing nearby. There follow a series of mid-shots, in shot/reverse shot, as a conversation gets underway. Nusret asks, ‘Got any children. Doctor?”. Cemal responds that he has none and that he was divorced two years earlier. [We also later learn that Cemal has moved from the city to this rural area]. Nusret responds ‘Good thing” and goes on to muse pessimistically about life and his work, ”there’s no sense in it.” Then he starts to recount a story: “There was this woman. A friend’s wife. One day… she said that she’d die on a specific date five months later. [after the end of a pregnancy] And sure enough … when that day arrived … she dropped dead.”  “for no reason at all.” The camera dollies behind Cemal round a tree to a new angle with both men in the frame; there is silence. There follows a shot of tree tops, a reverse shot of the two men illuminated from below by the headlights, and then a high angle shot of Nusret through branches, followed by a low angle shot of the moon through branches.

We hear the voice of the Sergeant, “Mr Prosecutor.” A new mid-shot of all three men runs for nearly two minutes as the Sergeant offers both men a biscuit and then asks Nusret about responsibilities in the case. He leaves. There follow more shot/reverse shots of Cemal and Nusret, as the former asks if any doctors ascertained the cause of the woman’s death.

They are interrupted again, this time by a fracas involving Naci and Kenan, in a new long shot of the other side of the stream. Naci, exasperated by the seemingly fruitless searches, turns on Kenan. In three shot/reverse shots Nusret crosses the stream to intervene, watched by the rest of the party. Nusret separates Naci from Kenan and takes him aside; the camera pans with them. Nusret tries to reason with Naci about controlling his anger. After a minute, with the dialogue continuing on the sound track, we get shots of Ali standing by a tree, Cemal watching across the stream, and Kenan looking back, [possibly at the doctor]. A further shot shows Ali shaking the branches of the tree and apples falling to the ground. A sequence shot, running about a minute, follows one apple as it rolls down the slope, into the stream, rolls then bobs down the stream till it reaches an obstruction and rests with other fallen apples, [presumably shot with a Steadicam]. Meanwhile the dialogue between Nusret and Naci continues on the soundtrack and includes the comment, “Is this how we’ll get into the EU?”

The apples.

The apples.

The camera returns to Nusret and Naci in long shot, running for nearly three minutes, including a pan back to the others gathering under a tree. Nusret decides they should have a break. Tevfik suggests the village of Cecili: Ali is not keen, [it transpires his wife comes from that village}. Nusret decides to go there anyway and tells Tevfik to phone the Mukhtar [mayor].

A short ellipsis and we see Izzet in mid-shot bathing Kenan’s face at the fountain. In a series of mid-shots we see Naci drying his socks, Cemal inspecting Kenan face where Naci hit him; Kenan asking ‘Doctor’ for a cigarette: Cemal getting a cigarette from Ali for Kenan; Naci objecting, ‘first you have to earn it’, and then this group getting into their car. The final shot has Kenan seated as Cemal gets in the back seat and saying quietly “Thank you.”

There is a lap dissolve to a frontal shot of the car’s headlights as they drive to the village.

We are now 52 minutes into the film. The sequence uses light and shadow, the main lighting source being the headlights of the jeep and other cars. We have the regular tendency in Ceylan films to use long shots and especially long takes. The whole sequence has a luminous palette. The soundtrack is naturalistic and we hear wind, a solitary birdcall, the water running, and the engines of the cars at times. In terms of themes as the narrative progresses Nusret’s story returns and there are increasing parallels between characters. This is a long and complex sequence, the cinematography, the lighting and the sounds all contribute to a sense of the place and the time, but also, in a way that is difficult to describe in words, add to our sense of the characters. Certainly the visuals includes comments on and metaphors for the characters, their thoughts and actions. The apple rolling down in the stream is an object driven by several external forces, including gravity: this seems an apt metaphor for the characters in the story.


Cemal observes Cemille.

Cemal observes Cemille.

The convoy arrives at the village of Cecili where they are greeted by the Mukhtar [Ercan Kesal). A meal is provided whilst the Mukhtar puts to the prosecutor that the village needs to “Build a nice morgue with a body washing room.” There is a power cut and the lights go out. Lamps and drinks are bought in by the Mukhtar’s daughter Cemille. She serves them silently whilst the men admire her beauty. Cemal and Kenan are especially struck by her, as if she has conjured up a memory. After she serves Kenan she appears to serve a second man – Yaşar! Is this Kenan’s imagining: he exclaims ‘aren’t you dead?”. Then Naci and Izzet take Kenan outside and into a barn. Here he confesses another aspect of the crime to them. Meanwhile Nusret continues with his tale to the Doctor, who asks ‘was there an autopsy’. Naci appears and tells the Nusret what he has heard from Kenan, information that complicates the murder and the investigation. There is another visual symbol as moth circles an exterior lamp and is consumed in the flame.

The search now continues. With early morning they arrive at another site, on a relatively flat plateau, with a fountain and a nearby tree. This is a field of stubble, harsh in the early morning light. And here they find the body, slightly uncovered by a stray black dog. Nusret dictates a report to Abidin, which he types onto a laptop. Then the body is wrapped in a blanket and placed in a car boot. Ali surreptitiously adds melons that he has picked up in the field. During this episode Ramazan has made a confession, but Kenan tells him to be quiet.

Early morning.

Early morning.

The party now returns to the town. When they reach the hospital a hostile crowd is waiting. Insults are hurled at Kenan, a boy throw a stone that hits him on the forehead. We learn that the boy, Adem (Fatih Ereli), is the son of Yaşar’s widow Gűlnaz Toprak (Nihan Okutueu). The prisoners are led away.

The doctor goes to the hospital. In his room he looks at some photographs of a young woman, then of young men: possibly including himself at an earlier age. Naci arrives in his office and the doctor writes a prescription for his sick son. Cemal leaves the hospital: after a Turkish bath and a coffee he returns for an autopsy. First we see him in his office with Nusret, who returns to the subject of the woman who died and asks the Cemal what could have caused the woman’s death. Cemal asks again if there was an autopsy: he suggests there may be an explanation. Like the earlier conversation with Ali it is unclear whether this is an actual scene or is in the mind of the doctor.

The identification of the corpse by the wife follows. She is given the belongings of the deceased. Nusret leaves for an important meeting in Ankara. Cemal and his medical technician Sakir (Kubilay Tunçer) then conduct the autopsy. During this examination another facet of the murder emerges. Cemal makes a decision, a decision which is a response to the different situations of the characters that he [and we] have learned in the course of events. The film ends as Cemal looks out through a window, observing the widow and her son returning home past a children’s’ playground in a long shot and long take. Intercut is a close-up of Cemal with a speck of the victims blood on his cheek. The sound of the children playing continues over the end credits.

What seem to me to be the fine qualities of this film flow both from the components parts [e.g. the excellence of the cinematography and sound) but also from the overall effect. The film is downbeat but there are also many moment of humour. There is the conversation on yoghurt; jokes about Nusret frequent stops to relieve himself; and recurring comments that he looks a little like Clark Gable. During the meal in the village Ali is ragged about his pretensions. The film is a rather sorry tale of human foibles, but it also seems a complex comment on the larger society of Turkey in the C21th. The characters cover a range of classes in that society: a member of the governing elite, administrators and bureaucrats, the professional, a petit-bourgeois and ordinary working men. The characterisation by the actors is completely convincing; it is the expressions of Cemal, Kenan and Nusret that receive particular attention. It is the men who speak and act throughout the film. However, the issue of gender emerges forcibly in the very silence of the women. [Intriguing parallels with The Silences of the Palace, Tunisia 1994]. We encounter six women in the film; Naci’s wife only heard inaudibly on the end of a mobile phone; the unnamed female protagonist in Nusret’s story; the Mukhtar’s daughter, Cemile,  in the village; her aunt who gives  Ali bread; the unnamed young woman in Cemal’s photographs; and the murdered man’s widow, who speaks at the identification, once with a solitary ‘yes’, otherwise with several nods and ‘uhum’.

An intriguing comment about women in rural Anatolia argues that whilst women suffered under patriarchy in traditional society, modernisation, which includes rights for women, has led to political institutions that are predominately ‘male domains’. This film seems to offer a poetic comment on this condition.

It offers more of course. I found that my understanding of the main characters changed and developed over the film, but that also developed when I returned to watch the film again. Like most good art there is not a simple set of values posited by the film. But the complexities of the characters relationships and experiences illuminates their condition and their decisions and actions. Cemal, the doctor, is clearly the key character; but it also seems to me that the film draws parallels between him and Kenan and also between Kenan and Nusret. It is a long film [158 minutes] and spends much time on small and often seemingly insignificant details: such as Ali’s surreptitious fruit gathering. But these small details feed into the illumination of character. The use of the wide screen means that, even in mid-shots, one is aware of the setting and of sets and props, which also feed in to our awareness.

In interviews Nuri Bilge Ceylan has spoken of his admiration of Anton Chekhov. In my early viewing of this film I was reminded in particular of his play The Seagull. There are parallels between the film and the play both in the relationships of characters and in the tragic events that play out. However, there are also parallels with another play by Chekhov, Uncle Vanya: including the character of the doctor. The final sense of Chekhov’s plays finds echoes in the final sequences of this film by Ceylan. At the end of Uncle Vanya Sonia has a long speech, which opens:

“Well, what can we do? We must go on living! … We shall go on living, Uncle Vania. We shall live through a long, long succession of days and tedious evenings. We shall patiently suffer the trials which Fate imposes on us; we shall work for others, now, and in our old age, and we shall have no rest.” (Translated by Elisaveta Fen). The speech ends on a more optimistic note, something that is there tentatively in the last moments of Once Upon a Time in Anatolia. The speech also suggests parallels with Ceylan’s other films, in particular with his more recent Winter Sleep (Kis uykusu, 2014). Probably as fine a film which I need and want to see again.

The status of the temporality in the film is somewhat ambiguous. A film fan I know queried the opening shot of the main film, which he suggested implied knowledge of the story to come. This interested me. The film can be seen as a playing out of Ceylan’s recollections or exposition of the story. In this case the opening shot would fit with his point-of-view. So whilst contemporary one could read the film as flashback, another aspect of its complexity.

The film is in colour and CinemaScope [2.39:1] with a Dolby Digital soundtrack. Whilst it originated on 35mm. in the UK it was only available on DCP. The UK release has English subtitles, used for the quotation in this article.

The author’s original review of the film can be found at http://thirdcinema.wordpress.conm: the Blog also has a review of The Silences of the Palace.

Note, this was originally written as an article for Media Education Journal for a regular shot on sequence analysis’s, but the editors found the sequence in question to long for the article’s function, presumably the A Level Film Studies.


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Regeneration, Britain 1997

Posted by keith1942 on March 19, 2015

Regen 1

I revisited this recently as part of the W.W.I: Through the Lens series at the Hyde Park Picture House. The film was screened in an old but visually good quality print. The soundtrack was occasionally muffled from wear and tear, but overall it was a great experience. The Hyde Park obtained the print with some assistance from Rafford Films, the original Production Company: at a time when projection and programming seems to be a dying art in cinema it is good to see an exhibitor giving this care and attention to a film. And it is a film that deserves such treatment. As you might expect in an UK period drama the acting and characterisations are excellent. Adrian Scot has provided a fine adaptation of the novel by Pat Barker: I have not read the book but I suspect that Harris has also changed the emphasis somewhat. The cinematography by Glen MacPherson is very fine, and together with Production Designer Andy Harris he has created really convincing images of the World War I frontline. The editing appears seamless, but it has certain unexpected cuts, which are sharply implemented. There is a lot of music, as you might expect, by Mychael Danna, but it works well and is in keeping with the treatment.  Director Gillies MacKinnon has done an excellent job of bringing the contributions of this team together. The film is a co-production between the UK [including Scottish agencies] and Canada: it would seem that the story has some connection with North America.

In an intelligent piece of programming the main feature was proceeded by some film footage from World War I. This was a video copy of footage shot at two hospitals treating mental disorders in troops afflicted by the trench warfare. The film was provided by the Welcome Trust Library and I would think it never received public exhibition at the time, late 1917 and 1918. The film presented a series of soldiers who suffered from some sort of neuroses bought on by the horrors of the warfare. The film concentrated on showing the success of the hospital treatments: some of the recoveries from severe physical disabilities bought on by trauma were remarkable. There was less coverage of the treatment, which seemed to consist of physiotherapy and hypnotic suggestion. The Picture House staff selected the Third Symphony of Henryk Górecki as an accompaniment: this worked very well.

This archive material fitted very well with the prime focus in Regeneration, the treatment of officers suffering mental traumas after service in the frontline. Reviews of the film on release picked up on the depiction of the relationship between two famous World War I poets, Siegfried Sassoon (James Wilby) and Wilfred Owen (Stuart Bunce), in the film. But the prime focus is Doctor William Rivers (Jonathan Pryce) and his relationship with his patients, especially Sassoon. There are two other key characters, Billy Prior (Johnny Lee Miller) and Burns (Rupert Proctor). Burns, like Owen, is not really developed as a character. Prior is an officer, but working class, which sets him apart from most of the staff and other inmates at the rehabilitation hospital.

Rivers is a sympathetic carer and listener. One sequence shows him visiting a specialist in London, a Dr Yealland, whose brutal treatment of traumatised soldiers provides a striking contrast with those of Rivers. Rivers listens to their harrowing memories, and together with the audience learns of the horrors of the experiences of war. These confessions also take their toll of Rivers himself.


Much of the film is set in the relative quiet of the hospital and its grounds. But the memories and dreams of the characters enable us to see and hear the brutal and violent warfare. These flashbacks and dreams both illustrate the traumas of the different patients, but also provide motifs relating to the well-known poetry of Sassoon, and even more so, of Owen. A recurring dream sequence is set in some sort of tunnel near the front-line – clearly referencing one of Open’s most famous poems.

The use of colour [or lack of it] provides a striking contrast to the hospital. But another contrast using colour is also drawn between Rivers’ office where the patients recount their experiences, and the laboratory of Dr Yealland. The film appears at first as a fairly typical example of British ‘realist’ cinema. But the use of colour, of counterpoint in the editing, and the relationship between the film’s present, the flashbacks and the dreams, produces a rather more ambiguous sense of reality and subjectivity.

There are also several sequences away from the hospitals and the front-line. The most important of these depicts a relationship between Prior and a ‘munitioneer’ [a worker in a munitions factory), Sarah (Tanya Allen). Their relationship includes two scenes of sexual encounters. One provides a moment of rare tenderness late in the film: the other uses a flamboyant overhead shot as a moment of contrast. However, I did feel that this emphasis on heterosexual sex offered a distraction from the unexplored homoerotic and homosexual aspects of the story. It appears that these, and a bi-sexual aspect, are much more explicit in the original novel.

The film does explore the contrasts of class through Prior and the conflicts between youth and age and between mavericks and the military establishment. The film also offers an underlying sense of irony. Whilst Rivers’ methods are contrasted with those of Yealland, in the end both fulfil the same function, sending men back to the front-line and death.


Posted in British films, Literature on Film, UK filmmakers, War movies | Tagged: | 1 Comment »