Allan Fish Online Film Festival, Final Day, “Benediction” and the COVID-19 reversal of movie access

by Sam Juliano

Dearest Allan:

Greetings!  I know we haven’t spoken in a few weeks, but I did promise I will give you a full report on the on-line film festival in your honor.  It is beyond my comprehension to grasp that you departed this earthly realm almost six years ago, and that this project is entering that many years as well.  In the past you have always marveled at how committed each writer was in exploring eclectic works or others that were not easily available.  Much like what you are doing now – and I continue to be amazed that your classes up there are attracting huge numbers, particularly the one titled Kurosawa, Ozu and Mizoguchi – your chosen vocation during your tenure on this planet was to educate, to introduce, even in some cases, but in the best sense, to indoctrinate.  I remember how annoyed the Kendal post office countermen would get when you regaled them almost daily with those international parcels.   You always seemed to make sure that when you received your rarities from London film specialists, that other would reap the benefits of your singular efforts.  I can only imagine how far you have taken this propensity at Paradise Gardens University.  I know if you had it your way, you’d coax every student to choose film as their major.

Anyway, I wanted to let you know that Sachin Gandhi, that wonderful chap from Calgary, Canada, has again taken the lead in attending to every last submission to this festival.  Yes, I know what you are thinking.  He always does indeed.  I had the great honor of meeting him in New York City on two occasions, and he’s every bit as personable, as warm, and as brimming with positive energy as he demonstrates in all his online commentaries.  He has never forgotten your style of cinematic sponsorship,, nor your tenacious belief that there are always masterpieces to be discovered, shared and written about.  Sachin’s entry to this year’s festival was most unique and the kind of thing you would have glowingly broached on one of your Fish Obscuros.  I would send you the link, but as you know, there can be no crossover of media, only words are allowed.  Not sure why they so stringent about that up there, but I think it something to do with a rejection of anything tangible.  If you just focus on the title and flick your fingers I know you will be able to watch it straightaway.  I will send you Sachin’s comments under all the other submissions too.  Each is in own way is extraordinary and each takes a completely different approach.  That Australian essayist extraordinaire Roderick Heath, ya know the one you told me many times was as good a writer of thorough pieces as you had ever seen, really took off the gauze on the American chase film Bullitt.  You haven’t read anything about that thriller until you read his comprehensive examination.

Then there’s Robert Hornak, a longtime fan of your writing.  He took to directly paying tribute to your taste and passion when he took the bull by the horns in analyzing in distinctly cinematic terms, a film by your beloved Yasujiro Ozu.  No it wasn’t Late Spring, Tokyo Story or even your cherished There Was a Father.  No, Bobby creatively opted to examine the use of color in the director’s first non-monochrome work, the 1958 Equinox Flower.  His fascinating observations would not only impress you, but I dare say might alter the way you perceived it, or at least just a bit.  I never forgot how you made me think so differently about the 1948 A Hen in the Wind, which I once thought, uninfluenced by you was an unabashed soap opera.  But how wrong I was.  I absolutely adore the film now.  Anyway, Bobby wins more points from you, I am sure, for his tackling one of your favorite of all film artists.

And speaking of homages and scene-specific reference to you as a purveyor of film studies, how about that tenacious Joel Bocko?  Not only does he keep his own site running full-throttle but he occasionally reaches out to share findings.  This past week, he mentioned you by name as the one who tuned him on to the shattering Iranian masterpiece The House is Black by that country’s celebrated female poet-filmmaker.  You would greatly appreciate his own capsule review, one -dare I say it? – that not only is written in your style, but also with an eye to word economy.  I have always considered your aggressive promotion for that particular short as not only justified, but to this day it stands as one of the finest films associated with you in any sense.

Your beloved Kendal buddy, Marco Tremble, horror and war film maven, motorcyclist and expert cook, gave us a second look at the Korean horror film I Saw the Devil.  As always Marco gets right to it, steering clear of fancy embellishments.  I well remember you counted yourself as a fan.  It was great to see J. D. Lafrance writing again, as he’s been quiet for a while – heck many of us have so much on our plates these days – but much as he always does when he takes pen to paper, he made quite the case for a little-known and little-seen B war 1972 movie titled Welcome Home Soldier Boys.  Typical for J.D. essays, you are slowly pulled in, and before you finish the review you are convinced you had watched it and talked about in in a college film class.  Nihlism and The Wild Bunch figure formidably into his discussion.  Our good friend Bobby J. from the UK (remember that unforgettable meeting we had with him in London in 2014?) Bobby always shared my love of The Twilight Zone, The Outer Limits and Thriller (three shows you liked quite a bit as well) He offered up two links on shorts, one directed by French director Julian Duvivier (a favorite of yours) which is based on Oscar, and the other, a supernatural ditty directed by Wendy Toye.    I think you will appreciate Bobby’s sense of humor as well.

You’ll greatly appreciate our mutual buddy and television specialist extraordinaire, Adam Ferenz’s splendid re-boot of his The Dance of the Seven Veils review.  Your love for Ken Russell once had you sending out copies of this once rare item.  Of course, you have always considered The Devils one of the greatest of films.

Our very good friend Tony D. from Sydney has expanded an earlier piece  from FilmsNoir.net on Robert Wise’s film noir masterpieces Odds Against Tomorrow.  I recall you were a big fan, and his engaging and trenchant scholarship should have you searching out all the erstwhile noir fans up there.  It is hard to imagine any big fan of that film missing out on Tony’s piece.

And then there is Jamie, our e mail companion and founder of your festival.  He found a supremely creative way to honor both you and me, He included my novel as a comparison vehicle for his acute exploration of New York City-shot or set films and his focus makes for a wholly riveting read.  What a launch, and for me an all-time great for the site.  You will surely agree.  As to my own choice, I went with a film seen in a  theater, since these days such instances are far rarer than the instances where we watch our films in the comfort of our own home.  I know how much you adore Terence Davies.  So much in fact, that you told me on a number of occasions that he was the finest living British director.  Putting him ahead of Ken Loach and Mike Leigh is quite a position to take, but heck, you know what?  I agree with you.  Mind you, I love the other two, but the brooding intensity of his cinematic tapestried I must edge it to Davies.  I borrowed my short review of Benediction for this week’s MMD, but as it was originally written for this letter to you I will leave it as it was originally written.   Davies, has crafted a film that must surely rank with the very best of his career. As always this purveyor of moods, poetic devises and somber underpinnings places narrative behind brooding sensibilities, meditative angst and oft-soaring lyricism, though in the aptly-titled “Benediction” the story of the poet, Siegfried Sassoon – a WWI objector who is institutionalized for his “unpatriotic” stance, Davies offers up a powerful and profound story of hidden desires. These are eventually set aside for a conventional lifestyle that never brings any measure of happiness to its tortured protagonist, a sensitive man who endures aching sadness, partially through behavior, markedly masochistic. Sassoon is betrayed by most of his male lovers, and though a highly effective past and present structure, emboldened by searing flashbacks, the leaves one deeply and profoundly moved. The cast, led by Jack Lowden is utterly magnificent, and Nicola Daley’s memory-laden cinematography intersperses the monochrome war scenes with the incandescent interior passages to give the film a scrap-book aura that is never sidelined, even by the powerful drama on display. Davies’ religiosity is again integrated when Lowden’s character converts to Catholicism late in life, and that aspect too is powerfully integrated into the narrative.

Perhaps you can let me know what you think after you see it.  I know there is a big time difference, so it may take a few months.  But knowing your taste as I do I am expecting a wildly positive assessment.  I think this was the best year yet for the festival and I am thinking future years will bring even more greatness.

Give my best to Gabriel.

Love,

Sam