(UK 1992 85m) DVD2
Shining a torch into the night sky
p Olivia Stewart d/w Terence Davies ph Michael Coulter ed William Diver md Robert Lockhart art Christopher Hobbs cos Monica Howe
Marjorie Yates (mother), Leigh McCormack (Bud), Anthony Watson (Kevin), Nicholas Lamont (John), Ayse Owens (Helen), Tina Malone (Edna), Jimmy Wilde (Curly), Robin Polley (Mr Nicholls),
Watching Terence Davies’ autobiographical piece was, to this reviewer, rather like flicking through a family album, heralding from a family barely removed from that depicted in the film, in location, time and spirit. It isn’t a prerequisite to be acquainted with the north, or with Catholicism, or remembrances of the 1950s, but it certainly helps. And though those who cannot tick those boxes can and do enjoy and celebrate the film, they do miss something in the translation.
It’s more than merely an exercise in nostalgia, critics both professional and amateur have talked of it being like a stream of the subconscious, and in many ways they’re right, with remembrances of different years and moods taking place seemingly at the same time. Essentially, the viewer is transported much like Scrooge by the spirits of Christmas into the childhood remembrances of Bud, an 11 year old from the terraced streets of Liverpool. All the expected reminiscences are present and correct, from canings to show the kids who’s boss and visits to Nitty Nora the Bug Explorer to the mind-numbing tedium of assembly and warm welcomes to black men who mistakenly come to the door to begging for a shilling for the pictures and neighbourly gatherings on the doorstep. It really is a different world, and one so dreamlike that one is not surprised when seemingly otherworldly voices ring in one’s ear, reminiscences not just of Bud’s but of our own collective movie-going subconscious. Those with ears to hear will recognise choice sound-bites from Kind Hearts and Coronets, The Happiest Days of Your Life, Meet Me in St Louis, The Ladykillers, Private’s Progress, Great Expectations and, several times, The Magnificent Ambersons, mixed with songs from Nat King Cole, Doris Day and Debbie Reynolds (Tammy, naturally). To this, add several choice snippets of hymns known to anyone who’s suffered through a Catholic primary education, Waltons-like ‘goodnights’, and a friend of the family who lives to do Cagney and EGR impressions. To this add a truly stunning visual sense, which bathes the film in a romantic, nostalgic glow despite actually being very gloomy in its surface aesthetics. Rain, as befits the wet North-West, is never far away, and the reflection of rain patterns on windows on wallpaper in darkened rooms adds a further ethereal touch. And not for nothing does the film open with a credit time lapse shot of a bowl of roses slowly wilting and dying, a simple but telling metaphor for the fleeting nature of those happiest days of Bud’s, and Terence’s, lives.
It’s also interesting to compare it to his earlier Distant Voices, Still Lives, which for all its careful detail and strong performances, was a little too grim in tone to fully satisfy. In Closes Davies mixes this grim exterior with an altogether warmer glow, as opposed to the cold light of day of the earlier film. It also includes several slow pans that Max Ophuls would be proud of, from a simple yet stunning overhead of the steps and railings of the terraced streets to the perhaps aesthetically more memorable pan through a fairground of Bud holding a perennial candy floss, and there are essences of Dennis Potter and even of the first generation of the interminable Coronation Street in the street sequences. Appropriately perhaps, considering the setting in the British Catholic heartland, it’s a spiritual film in many ways, not merely religiously but of the soul. Gorgeously shot by Coulter, it also benefits from the superb interior and exterior sets of Hobbs, as well as from some exemplary performances from Yates as Bud’s Ma, McCormack himself as Bud, and Malone as a salt-of-the-earth neighbour. It may be slight, it may be idiosyncratic and personal, but it’s magical all the same. To paraphrase a hymn heard in the film, “once in Terence Davies’ city…”
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Here’s a random question for you, Allan: should one see Heimat before Heimat 2, or does it really matter (given that “2” is supposedly tangential to “1”)? I’m asking because, now that the 90s list is almost complete, I was thinking of bumping all of them to the top of my queue although I haven’t gotten through all the 80s titles (and Heimat is next). However, this would mean I see the “sequel” to Heimat before the original. What do you think?
You must see the first, MM, or else aspects of part 2 will have no resonance – the ending, for example, will not be fully understood.
Thanks – I’ll continue with the 80s then…
I knew Allan would go off the beaten track as we reached the end. 🙂
I need to add this to my Netflix queue. Of Time and the City is shaping up to be one of my Top Five of 2009, and this sounds like a wonderful narrative feature companion to Davies’ exquisitely personal documentary.
Well, of course it’s nearer to the reverse, Andrew…the documentary was his companion to Distant Voices Still Lives and The Long Day Closes. But yes, you should seek it out. His neglect is still a crime, and without coming across all anti US, Davies is a director virtually airbrushed from film history Stateside.
Well, I think that – by process of elimination – I know what #1 will be. (First time since the 50s one could really say that.) I think most will be pleased, though I haven’t seen it (I’ll probably slip it to the top of my queue for the end of ’09, before proceeding with the 80s list).
I will adress Andrew and Movie Man simultaneously.
Yes, yes, yes, Allan has made an extraordinary choice here of a film that has also placed very high on my own Top 25. Davies may well be the greatest British director at this point, and this film is his masterpiece, though this year’s OF TIME AND THE CITY as Andrew notes is one of 2009’s pre-eminent achievement.
Anyway THE LONG DAY CLOSES is a biographical, stream of consciousness and sensory story of growing up gay in Liverpool, where loneliness and alienation are dominant feelings. Davies uses music as a defining mode, and he examines the pervasive intrusiveness of Catholic doctrine. It’s a poem, an ode, and both a celebration and condemnation of childhood. It’s an exquisite tone poem, and a fluidly beautiful coda.
Kudos to Allan! This is perhaps his greatest hour during this countdown, though many might not realize it.
But Andrew is there!
I wonder if Movie Man really knows what th e#1 film will be? LOL. I will say he probably does know. I’ve actually know it since last year, having been recipient to Allan’s effusive re-assessment. Yes, he has given us some clues. It’s a great choice for sure.
MOVIEMAN-No offense, my friend.. BUT… The moment Allan moved into the top 15 it became blatantly obvious. Yes, process of elimination is part of it, but so was the showing of key films usually associated with the top ten. By the time we reached yesterday’s film (No. 3-MAGNOLIA), all became so clear it was like having a magnifying glass in front of it. The fact that films like HEIMAT, THE SWEET HEREAFTER and RAISE THE RED LANTERN which, in any other decade, would have probably made Allan’s top ten, showed so low, should only have made apparent that he was clearing the board for what will appear tomorrow (not usually associated with a top 5 count). Its a superlative choice, even if a bit obvious. But, then again, after reading Allan day-after-day, you kind of pick up the rythm. I have this film on my own list.
MOVIEMAN(part II)-Rythm, I feel, is a key ingredient to Allan’s count. I believe he weighs in the types of films, the feel of each feel, and the shock value. Yes, I think shock has a lot to do with it. It make for a nice blend of films to round out his ten. This is, particularly, the reason I don’t buy his “re-evaluation” exolaination towards putting RED and BREAKING THE WAVES so low in the 10 and a so-called “masterpiece” like THE TRUMAN SHOW in the No. 4 position. I think Allan chose that film, in that slot, to shake the readers and gain a fun bit of controversy. By this, I think he feels he’s throwing us off course to make his obvious choice seem less obvious. Nice trick, I’ll admit. I think, mostly, we pick the films we really think are the best. Allan does too, to an extent, but with a few dramatic kicks to make things exciting. I say just list em. IMO.
Was lucky enough to see a Davies retrospective and given he is so neglected, nice to see a review here. Even House of Mirth was way better than Scorsese’s Age of Innocence (admittedly not the usual Scorsese material).