Friday 27 November 2009

politics and film

I was bewildered today (Friday 27th Nov) to hear several mentions on Radio 4 and the World Service of "the Israeli-led blockade [sic] of Gaza".  Dare one ask precisely who is 'following' where the Israelis lead? Seems like it's the BBC!

But enough on corrupt politics, dodgy reporting and rhetoric, and the manifest abuses of power: let's have far more political honesty, humanism and cinematic artistry. In these last three areas a couple of previously rare, quite brilliant screen gems by Kevin Brownlow and Andrew Mollo are now available in painstakingly restored copies on DVD, along with some witty and revealing interviews. The two films in question are It Happened Here (1956-64, not released till 1966)) and Winstanley (1975) With beautiful black and white cinematography, and movingly acted, for the most part by non-professionals, both films reflect the idealism, energy and youthful enthusiasm of their makers. Yet it's amazing that either was made at all: what with minuscule budgets, low or no salaries, and meticulous, authentic period-design (for the 1940s and 1640s respectively), and filming always on location and generally part-time! Indeed, it's clear that their making involved a quasi-fanatical commitment and obsessive determination against the odds. As to the dramatic subject matter of these films, whose own production histories are as extraordinary and fascinating as the violent eras of upheaval they deal with, I'll say no more here except to urge everyone to make the effort to see them. They surely rank with the best and most poetic British cinema of the past 50 years, alongside the work of such creative, independent spirits as Bill Douglas and Terence Davies.

Also recommended are Kevin Brownlow's memoir, How It Happened Here (1968), recently reissued, and his masterly personal chronicle of the silent screen, The Parade's Gone By (1968). The former relates how the 18 year old Brownlow came to make his highly original first feature and what happened to it. The latter book, a monumental and impeccably researched work containing unique stills and interviews with all sorts of stalwarts of the silent movies, from stars to stand-ins and technicians, belongs in every filmlover's library. I remember reading the MS. for a publisher in the late 1960s: despite my most enthusiastic recommendation, I couldn't persuade that particular firm to publish Kevin's manuscript. No, it was 'uncommercial', 'too long', 'too limited in appeal', etc… Luckily a rival firm soon snapped up this wonderful book, which has remained in print ever since and taken its rightful place as one of a handful of indispensable accounts of the pioneers of cinema.

Thursday 26 November 2009

Different Journeys

Maggie's back from olive-picking in the scorching heat (for her adventures and impressions of life on the West Bank, you'll need to read her own detailed and excellent blog, http://magssjournal.blogspot.com/, it's much more interesting than mine, and convinces me I must go out there with her next time, next year.

While she was away I did catch up with quite a bit of reading, though, and can particularly recommend Hans Fallada's wonderful novel Little Man, What Now? This dates from 1932, and is a chilling and quite fascinating account of an ordinary young couple's struggles to survive in Germany with the deutschmark worth almost nothing and Nazism on the rise. Fallada (1893-1947) was a great social realist writer with terrific storytelling ability. The other 2 novels of his that I'd previously read, still more gripping – and even better translated, by the redoubtable John Willett and Michael Hofmann respectively – are The Drinker and Alone In Berlin. Quite extreme and extraordinary, like 'Fallada's' own life! I'd eagerly read anything else available in English by this German author, which means for me he's in the class of Joseph Roth, Brecht and B.Traven…

Picked up a mint and clearly unread copy for 50p in a local charity shop, of Michel Houellebecq's The Possibility Of An Island, his latest, longest and most savagely satirical novel. I think he's my favourite contemporary French novelist: this is no letdown and pulls no punches. It's sharp and funny and scathing about the world and all of us in it. I think he hates and despises religion and bogus belief-systems (including the media and consumer society) as much as I do, so I could even forgive him a couple of passing swipes at 2 of my heroes, Joyce and Nabokov! Houellebecq clearly loves causing offence and tackling the most potentially painful and/or universally sensitive issues, such as sex, aging and death, and good luck to him, for he'll need it if he carries on as grimly, hilariously and outrageously as this, and doesn't drink himself into oblivion first.

As for film, Peter Strickland's exciting debut Katalin Varga is simply unmissable. The best new British indie work in years, made on a shoestring (a thirty thousand quid legacy), subtitled (it's in Romanian and Hungarian), and beautifully shot and acted in some of the most stunning areas of Transylvania. It's the cinematic equivalent of a page-turner like those mentioned above, and is guaranteed to keep you on the edge of your seat. Thanks, Mr Strickland, you're quite an auteur, and I hope you can get funding to make more movies: those pupils of yours at your Reading school are lucky indeed to have a teacher like you, but everyone who's seen your film will also be hoping that you don't have to stay there for too much longer.