(UK 1986 415m) DVD1/2
Ten cents a dance, fella
p John Harris, Kenith Trodd d Jon Amiel w Dennis Potter ph Ken Westbury ed Bill Wright, Sue Wyatt m Stanley Myers art Jim Clay
Michael Gambon (Philip Marlow), Patrick Malahide (Mark Binney), Alison Steadman (Lili), Joanne Whalley (Nurse Mills), David Ryall (Mr Hall), Ron Cook (1st mysterious man), George Rossi (2nd mysterious man), Janet Suzman (Nicola), Leslie French (“Noddy” Tomkey), Bill Paterson (Dr Gibbon), Ken Stott (Uncle John), Jim Carter (Mr Marlow), Gerald Horan (Reginald Gibbs), Sharon Clarke (night nurse), Imelda Staunton (Nurse White), Badi Uzzaman (Ali), Janet Henfrey (schoolteacher), Lyndon Davies (Philip, aged 10), David Thewlis (soldier),
Following the transmission of the first episodes of Dennis Potter’s magnum opus on BBC1, their viewer response show Points of View was bombarded with complaints from the Mary Whitehouse brigade, including a mirthfully Pythonesque response from Colonel R.S.Vine, BSc, MRCS, LRCP, FRC Path, who called it “this extraordinarily obscene production.” It still amazes me how truly shatteringly narrow-minded the average person is – and was – in the so-called modern age, and I’m sure it left Potter equally aghast. It was as if sex was the only thing that The Singing Detective was about, when in actual fact it was but one layer of many. Rather than showcase Potter as having a filthy mind, they were actually uncovering their own shortcomings.
I could waste time discussing the plot of the piece – which is basically the story of a writer, Philip Marlow (sic), suffering from the debilitating skin disease psoriatic arthropathy, conjuring up images of his childhood, one of his old detective stories (the eponymous ‘The Singing Detective’), all merging into his present, painkiller-addicted hallucinogenic condition as the ward becomes a hotbed for musical interludes. There is unquestionably a great deal of semi-autobiographical analysis in the piece, as there always is (Potter himself suffered from the same disease on and off), yet there is so much besides. It’s a meditation on childhood, how the events of childhood subconsciously shape us, and that’s just one level. It’s not easy viewing, indeed Marlow’s condition is often painful to behold, so much so that it turned off many delicate viewers. Yet it holds up a candle to life in a way that so few writers could dream of. When Whalley’s nurse murmurs “life is a cabaret, old chum…in here it is”, she hits the nail on the head, for Potter’s world is an escapist fantasy world. Even the idea of the detective alter ego is fanciful, a detective who sings songs in a band when he isn’t pacing the dark alleys. Each of the characters is quite superbly realised, right down the various characters on the ward, who almost seem to have come out of one of the hospital Carry On films, but who are much more real for being seen through Potter and Marlow’s sardonic eyes. The musical interludes, when they come, are delightfully appropriate, from the examining surgeons dancing to ‘Dem Bones’ to an evangelistic doctor leading the chorus in ‘Accentuate the Positive’ to those sung by the eponymous crooning gumshoe himself. And, best of all, a final use of Vera Lynn which arguably even tops that in Doctor Strangelove, a nostalgic summation of not just the series but Potter himself. Whole sequences stay burned in the memory, particularly those repeated thematically through the series – Carter standing waving sorrowfully on a railway platform, living scarecrows, the young Marlow up in a tree recalling the earlier Blue Remembered Hills, and the fishing out of a corpse under Hammersmith Bridge which metamorphosises into different women. All the performers are on the money, with Paterson wonderfully idiosyncratic as the psychiatrist, Carter as Marlow’s father, Malahide as a villain for all seasons and French as a doddering, nodding old patient all indelible. At the centre, however, Gambon, in not just his greatest performance but one of the greatest screen performances of the modern era, full of self-loathing and self-pity, yet quick-witted and charming. Not only will there never be another Dennis Potter, but we didn’t deserve the one we had. Am I right, or am I right?
Bob is now rounding up an army of Ewoks to attack you, Fish…
Actually, I’m calling detante on this one, Man, even if I personally question its eligibility. I’d argue that Potter’s gift as a writer is evident in a way that could only be made possible on television, and shows him as one of the most unique voices to grace the medium since the likes of Chayefsky or Serling. Amiel’s visualization of the series is his strongest work, and even though I feel that in the end it’s more theatrical than cinematic (a lot of great television owes a lot to the stage, like the live-plays Frankenheimer directed for Playhouse 90) I’m willing to let Fish have this one.
And besides, if I really were going to mount an attack, I’d start by rounding up Gungans, Joel. Don’t you know me by now?
With TSD it’s even more blurred as it had arthouse cinema showings in the US and even had an entry as a theatrical piece in Scheuer’s defuncy film guide.
At the end of the day, it’s no more theatrical and TV bound than Berlin Alexanderplatz. That just gets in because it was directed by someone who also made movies. The same with Dekalog.
The same as how the film scores of Prokofiev, Walton, Copland and Shostakovich are recognised by the classical fraternity as the guys who wrote them were classical composers. Accepted names. They’re still film scores.
Yes, but didn’t TSD predate Amiel’s film work? Granted, I’m not questioning its inclusion here if it really was shown theatrically in some places (a superficial rule, but if the loophole fits, why not?), but this is a work by somebody who would go on to direct films, not somebody like Kieslowski or Fassbinder who already had. And it goes without saying that Amiel’s film work doesn’t hold a candle to this– TSD is one of those rare works that does not belong to its director, but its writer.
I will say, though, this isn’t a personal favorite of mine. It’s good, but Potter already did the psychological-musical thing with “Pennies From Heaven”, even if it’s used to much better auto-biographical import here. Of all his stuff, I much preferred his last television works, “Karaoke” and “Cold Lazarus”. Of course, it’s been a little more than ten years since I last saw those, so I can’t quite vouch for them in the same way easy to find serials like TSD.
I would debate the idea that it is one of the rare works that belongs to it’s writer, mainly because tv belongs to writers, producers and script editors – with the director providing the craft for translation, whereas, with more power and the blindness of autuer theory – he can get away with film work.
By the way, Bob – ‘Karaoke’ and ‘Cold Lazarus’ are available via bit torrent. Woulf you like the link?
Yep. You’re right.
Excellent summation and analysis of one of my favorite works. I was almost dead broke when I rented it, but the first episode wowed me and I went and immediately ordered the whole series to own. One of my best purchases ever.
I love how well the hallucinatory quality is employed in layering the levels of meaning and symbolism and how just when it seems to be playing it straight it dips us back into the surreal and holds us under. Just the general trope of combining a hardboiled noir of a mystery with autobiographical memories and the delusions of a mind escaping the pain of life still takes my breath away. The ending (and many points in between) gave me chills.
Dennis Potter is amazing. That he isn’t more recognized in the States is criminal. That Jon Amiel hasn’t repeated his directorial performance here yet continues to astound me. I have some hopes for Creation. Would be nice for him to finally get some respect. And this production made an unapologetic, lifetime fan of Gambon out of me. That’s one Brit what knows his acting.
Jenny: That kind of enthusiasm is warranted for this great, great selection here by Allan. Lars Von Trier was influenced here when he produced DANCER IN THE DARK, but Potter’s cinema is original, eclectic, dark and exhilarating. Both this, PENNIES FROM HEAVEN and BLUE HILLS REMEMBERED are masterpieces.
Oi, Mr Masters Degree in English,
“Both this, PENNIES FROM HEAVEN and BLUE HILLS REMEMBERED are masterpieces”
What’s wrong with this statement? Answer, it’s like the famous football oxymoron, a game of three halves. Both can only refer to two, not three. At least in English anyway.
If you had to make as many submissions as I do, under time constraits at school and during at-home breaks (not that I mind at all, I made my bed, and I’m happy with it) you’d be rushing into some mistakes too.
Were you recently appointed by the Internet Grammar Police?
The mistake was actually caused by my adding BLUE HILLS to the mix late, without removing the ‘both.’
No, just the Internet anti-pomposity gun. I can’t miss.
I just added this to my queue. I can’t wait, thanks for the heads up, it sounds right up my alley.
I’ve seen the film that’s similar with Robert Downey Jr. (it’s uneven but Downey is pretty fantastic). I’ll return to this page with my thoughts when I finish.
Isn’t the Downey one actually a remake (or rather, a digest if it’s merely a feature?).
Yeah it’s ‘based on the 1986 miniseries’. A ‘digest’ is a good way to explain it… a miniseries remade in about 2 hours.
Cliff’s Notes for the Cliff’s Notes generation…ie. utterly worthless…
Finished this a month or two ago and enjoyed it, though I found some “episodes” (yeah, I know, all of a piece, etc.) stronger than others. I will say that I would gladly adopt Gambon’s skin condition if Whalley was my nurse…