Withered Faces: Donal McCann

Donal McCann made a career in Ireland as an actor which was rare in the 70s and 80s, perhaps more so now for what he achieved. He was a character actor who often played leading roles and worked several times with John Huston, Bob Quinn and Neil Jordan. Even more acclaimed on stage, he worked frequently with Derry playwright Brian Friel whose one-hander Faith Healer is perhaps McCann’s finest role for those who saw it. Born in Terenure, South Dublin in 1943, he was a long time resident of Glasnevin, North Dublin near his favourite pub The Gravediggers. He died aged 56 in 1999 of pancreatic cancer, he would have been 80 this year.

His finest roles for me were as Sligo farmer Danny in Colin Welland’s 1976 BBC Play for Today Your Man From Six Counties, Trade Union leader Barney in RTÉ’s 1980 Strumpet City and the writer Gabriel in John Huston’s final film The Dead. Special mention to his Donegal farmer Hamilton in December Bride and Gar in the 1977 adaptation of Philadelphia, Here I Come. McCann has a ruggedy sense of himself and the world. Whether playing working class characters with middle class backgrounds like Sam in The Miracle, one’s own mortality reveals itself when you are vulnerable. McCann’s head is a pressure cooker on timed, each gesture brings a truth and subtly not expected from Abbey Theatre training often given a reputation for overacting. McCann’s time in England in the 70s brought a wealth of experience which he brought back to Ireland to bring a sense of lived disquiet to Irish life. My hometown of Bray, Co. Wicklow is where McCann made many of his films, Sam in The Miracle lived on the seafront, henchman Ryan in The Hard Way chased Patrick McGoohan around the corner from my old apartment. Wicklow is everywhere on screen these days but with McCann as your guide, each trip to Bray Dart Station from where I live now gets more poignant by the day.

Take Your Man From Six Counties Danny has a crisis, his brother is killed by the UVF, his nephew comes to Sligo to live with him and his wife (Brenda Fricker). Later on Danny debates with a priest about religion in Irish society. It’s the kind of debate like that between Maeve and her ex-boyfriend in Pat Murphy’s Maeve, deeply questioning for its time. God knows dated films teach us the most about the world they represented when these topics were less discussed on screen. Take something even more individualist and you find Gar’s rant to his ex-girlfriend in Philadelphia, Here I Come to get out of Ireland, escape his past and go forward to a vast, possibly anonymous future in The US. In 2023 Gar’s rant feels at once fresh and familiar as it was in 1964. The priests’ hold on Ireland isn’t what it was. The Troubles ended but parts of society remain divided, Northern Ireland’s Government once again has collapsed. Gar’s feeling to leave our small island rests on a small town mentality which brings him a lack of freedom and privacy. What would Donal McCann have thought of Ireland today? It is a crisis of housing supply, affordability and The HSE’s privatisation. Ireland’s population has grown significantly since 2011, supply has crushed expectations. Then again Irish expectation of infrastructure is low by European standards. I think McCann’s subtle feeling of angst often reflects low Irish expectation, a McCann character often feels defeatist.

When McCann moved to London in the 70s, one of his first roles upon arrival was a TV play called Brown Skin Gal, Stay Home and Mind Bay-Bee (after the Harry Belefonte song). McCann plays Roger Pentecost, an Irish electrician based in the UK renting a room from divorcee Ruth (Billie Whitelaw). Roger brings across McCann’s sensitivity due to his lack of independence with household chores and social situations. Both Roger and Ruth fantasise about each other, Ruth through sex, Roger through marriage. Ruth’s stern tone and matter of factness against Roger’s anxiety and lack of awareness brings interesting connotations of Protestant and Catholic upbringings respectively. Through McCann’s roles as tradesmen, farmers, priests, gangsters, detectives, artists, is a naturalism that his supposedly rugged exterior fits comfortably in. Silence rules him most of all (Budawanny, December Bride, Poitín). The Irish language Poitín made upon McCann’s return to Ireland has him cry out for his dog, Quinn’s later Budawanny is a silent film. Thaddeus O’Sullivan’s December Bride takes in Irish landscape perhaps like no other to grace McCann’s presence. As it demands solitude which is how Poitin and Budawanny also align, but they do so through the human face.

In December Bride McCann’s Hamilton has the line to the local priest “crops have reared on stony ground before” O’Sullivan holds McCann’s stare as he trades religion for his tranquillity. His solitude towards his work is an interesting contrast to Barney in Strumpet City as collectivism and social politics vends further frustration as he tries to unionise his crew in the pub in the second episode. The director Tony Barry gives the ensemble equal measure sparing time between close-ups. How often has a city been filmed on screen leaving a viewer a desire not to live there? Strumpet City is shot between Dublin’s inner city and Dún Laoghaire with eerie interiors at RTÉ Studios (the production is by far their crowning achievement). This Old Dublin viewed today of course brings with it the shock of its on the margins social framework and policy bringing those struggling down. The collectivism (ala John Ford) of Strumpet City in the city environment is where the vulnerable depend on the will of others in the labour force for survival. In contrast to the wilderness of December Bride’s rural Donegal setting where it is every man and woman for themselves ala Howard Hawks’ Bogart characters, or more accurately Mark O’Halloran’s (Garage) the individual decides their fate.

As an Irish actor McCann featured in The Abbey alongside Stephen Rea, Rea is less domineering as an actor. You would find it difficult to see Rea as Barney in Strumpet City or McCann as Fergus in The Crying Game. McCann’s sensitivity is less apparent on first viewing, his face does most of the work. His physicality is quite evident in some roles more than others; Poitin, Strumpet City, The Miracle. In Poitín he ends up battling an individual (Cyril Cusack), in The Miracle he battles himself. The director of Poitìn Bob Quinn has said McCann spoke no Irish unlike his co-stars Cusack and Niall Toibin, it was the first feature film in Irish. Quinn was convinced that as McCann had little dialogue his physicality would shape his character. We know of Barney’s left wing politics in Strumpet City, Labhrás in Poitín is prompted by violence in a way like no other McCann character. The environment of the Connemara hills where Quinn (originally from Dublin) himself has called home since the 60s gives an air of ambiguity. Picture the scene Ireland 1978, four years before Neil Jordan’s Angel (also with McCann) which would arguably change the landscape of Irish film. Ireland was impoverished but filled with a richness of character and the picturesque, no one better than Bob Quinn reflected this. As McCann’s individuals for Quinn were lost to traditions of old, isolation by circumstance (their settings) perhaps the films can be seen as timeless, a labourer stuck for work and a Catholic priest becoming a father (Budawanny).

If we reflect on the lack of speaking McCann does for Quinn we find an ambiance, men who through their environments have no room to even ponder their prospective futures, life has dealt them a difficult hand. Surely ‘the full Donal’ is attributed to speech? as the fine Dublin brogue would attest. Stephen Rea’s main contribution to Irish society is his voice, often underused. As McCann always had the privilege to use his voice and his body in ways that other Irish actors didn’t, vocally McCann rarely played an American or Englishman. His build like that of Oliver Reed, Alan Bates or Albert Finney is rare on screen nowadays, it gave McCann a sense of someone once authoritative, the next bombastic and finally one of fortitude. The rareness of McCann’s success if one were to compare finally to Brendan Gleeson, he didn’t need Hollywood at all. It is said that stage actors such as McCann and Rea needed to remain in London for theatre, as they found the big screen work in the 80s at Ardmore and elsewhere it became possible for an Irish base. You could bump into them in a shop, they are part of Irish society.

McCann had the habit of looking different from role to role, think Strumpet City to Budawanny to The Nephew. From Terenure his accent has the feeling of old inner city Dublin. His stomping ground of Glasnevin is close, North Central, in proximity to The Gate and Abbey Theatres where he felt at home. McCann’s performance as the father Sam in The Miracle opposite the young newcomer Niall O’Byrne is unquestionably a mismatch of acting abilities. McCann doesn’t have to speak to give a strong impression of nuance, never more evident than his walk by the sea. As I write this I am on Bray seafront where the characters lived, they shot it during Italia 90. They worked at a jazz club down the prom, Ireland saw a lot of changes in the next ten years. 1990 saw Ireland’s first legal use of condoms, divorce was legalised by 1996 and along came The Celtic Tiger which saw the birth of huge investment in Ireland. Dublin is now one of Europe’s most expensive cities; Brexit has helped further investment due our continued EU membership and English speaking.

McCann, like Dirk Bogarde, had his brief moments in Hollywood, Out of Africa and also The Dead, the latter primarily known as an Irish film, was shot in California due to John Huston’s frail health. A screening sells out every year on 6th January (the night it is set) at The Irish Film Institute. McCann performed The Steward of Christendom in Brooklyn, and Juno and the Paycock on New York’s Broadway. A lot is made in the press today over Cillian Murphy’s decision to return with his family to Ireland and Brendan Gleeson for never leaving. Ryan Tubridy has the obsessive question to ask his guests about their love of Ireland, will they return to live etc, Pierce Brosnan is top of his list. A small point to some, but Donal’s very presence in Irish life as a neighbour in Glasnevin attests, “He was so completely himself: no sides, just Donal McCann. Yes, I know he would hurl a few insults on a Friday and apologise on a Monday, but there was never any malice or nastiness meant by his remarks.” (Irish Times)

References:

The Irish Times (1999) ‘Remembering Donal McCann, The Irish Times, 31 July 1999 [Online]. Available at: https://www.irishtimes.com/opinion/letters/remembering-donal-mccann-1.212241 (Accessed: 24 September 2023).

The Servant

The Servant concerns Tony (James Fox); an alcoholic aristocrat who has just bought a five storey house on Royal Avenue in Chelsea, West London. His new man servant Hugo Barrett (Dirk Bogarde) arrives for the job interview to find the front door open and Tony asleep in his chair from drinking. Barrett takes an instant dislike for Tony which he hides for half of the film. Tony’s girlfriend Susan (Wendy Craig) takes an instant dislike to Barrett, she questions his knowledge of art. Tony first defends Barrett, and then snaps when Susan leaves. The conniving Barrett concocts a plan to introduce Vera (Susan Miles) as his sister in order to manipulate Tony and his money through Vera’s seduction. Once Barrett and Vera are kicked out, Tony only knows half the story; he re-hires Barrett a few weeks later. The power dynamic begins to change.

The director Joseph Losey said in one of two video interviews I found (both promoting The Servant) that he had complete creative control with this film for the first time in his career, Losey was blacklisted by Hollywood and moved to England in the early 1950s. Houses and the confinement it brings Losey’s characters recurs often; The Sleeping Tiger, The Servant, Blind Date, Accident, Secret Ceremony, The Go-Between and The Romantic Englishwoman. Losey uses a number of cinematic techniques, such as a zooming camera towards Tony as his life begins to spiral; this is done later in the film near the finale. The close-ups of Sarah Miles are seductive. Losey’s beautiful two-shot of Barrett and Tony in the pub, Barrett’s silhouette of him smoking, the use of mirrors; especially between Barrett and Tony in the living room and the high angles of them on the stairs, signifying power dynamic.

Based on Robin Maugham’s novella which playwright and screenwriter Harold Pinter found to be yellow book snobbery with the first person narration and anti-Semitic towards Barrett’s character. Maugham was bisexual. Many have argued that Tony and Barrett are bisexual. A viewer can interpret many things from the close-up of an actor; I think Barrett’s desire for Tony is psychological. Losey and Pinter’s interest in strangers at the restaurant; the society couple, the lady friends and the Irish priests give the film an interesting brief break from our four characters confined mostly to the house on Royal Avenue. Losey actually lived next door from 1966 until his death in 1984. Bogarde spent his final years a mere ten minutes walk away.

James Fox was only 23 when filming in what is his first leading role, The film rests on Dirk Bogarde’s stunning performance, his character shifts from deadpan kindness to cackling menace. Bogarde’s facial gestures are key to give us subtext, he smiles as he throws Vera out, it’s all a game anyway. Crucially Bogarde’s hand stays inside the door as he talks to Vera signifying his grip of power on the house. Barrett like Stanford in Time Without Pity is a Northerner from Manchester, this continues Losey’s fascination with different dialects; Alexander Knox (Scottish) Stanley Baker (Welsh), Brian Phelan, Patrick Magee and Jack McGowan (Irish). No doubt Susan pigeonholes Barrett as lower working class when they talk about art.

A wonderful fan site called 60sbritishcinema.net reviews The Servant, the critic has read the novella too and has issues with the ending which he finds doesn’t make sense. The last twenty minutes get more surreal as it goes on, Barrett and Tony’s hide and seek which looks like something out of experimental theatre, the party sequence; Barrett blowing smoke in Susan’s face; satisfaction at last. Susan and Barrett kissing, Tony smiling! Tony defeated, drunk on the floor, Barrett throws Susan out. Pinter has often been interested in power dynamics and class systems; Losey is no stranger to manipulation and human weakness. Gilles Deleuze notes ‘a character in Losey’s films who might see himself as a weakling and thus makes up for this weakness with a brutal action.‘

What does Tony need a five storey, five bedroom house for anyway? Is he considering a family with Susan? You forget how young they are, he can barely take care of himself. Raymond Durgnat chooses to focus on Tony in an article on Losey (Films and Filming) ‘The idea of Tony being put in charge of a scheme to shift hungry peasants from Asia Minor to a development scheme in South America is dotty to the point of being hair-raising’. Was Maugham simply having fun with Tony’s characterisation? We only see Tony in a social group scenario at the finale which of course ends badly. Tony’s scene with Susan and her parents open with each character literally staged for the theatre with their slightly over the top postures. Barrett would probably like that idea, the high class nothing but stage puppets. Johnny Dankworth’s score is a companion to Tony’s solitude and Barrett’s deviousness; then again Barrett is lonely too in his way. Durgnat argues ‘Tony is confused between a sort of reach-me-down feudalism he caught from ‘Lord Barr’, and between the middle-class ‘fantasy of goodwill’- he can just drift amiably and aimlessly along while his ‘gentleman’s gentleman’ will dutifully, loyally, run itself. Thinking he has bought Barrett’s soul, Tony loses his own’ (Films and Filming). Tony’s life at least without Susan seems pretty meaningless, of course we don’t see Barrett working for an elderly lady in Bolton Square to know how he struggles if indeed that is the story. Tony’s weakness to be manipulated by Barrett comes from loneliness. Of course the shift in the film and Bogarde’s performance in the second half is striking. Barrett and Tony are brought closer together by conflict.

Like The Homecoming written by Pinter a year later in 1964, power dynamic and manipulation take hold, a lot is left to interpretation. Pinter takes inspiration from Samuel Beckett for his vague and intriguing narratives which are criticised by what people see as a lack of depth.  Robert Murphy argues ‘Underneath this brilliant surface, though, there are serious flaws. Harold Pinter’s script strains for effect and makes nonsense of an already weak story … it is difficult now to see anything more than fortunate timing and a vague air of decadence linking this muddled upper-class nightmare to the real-life scandal of the Profumo Affair which boosted its office box-office potential’ (Sixties British Cinema). But can’t it be argued that these Pinteresque forms of narrative are all the more personal and intriguing by having little background to the characters, to take them as they are and interpret what we can. Of course seeing The Servant more than once Barrett’s deceit becomes more clear. As Bogarde said of his autobiographies; ‘it’s all there if you look at it and read between the lines’

Vera is the most ambiguous character, what motivates her? We only see her truthful when she is alone with Barrett if it is indeed truthful. We know that Barrett telling Tony that Vera has conned them and then Vera returning later looking for money are both staged, a wicked Machiavellian touch typical from Pinter. Fox and Miles’ sex scene perhaps inspired a similar scene in the 80s teen comedy Risky Business with a couple on a chair with the back of the chair to the camera. Losey sometimes has his actors fall dramatically as the low camera angle watches them (Vera in The Servant and Ansell in Figures in a Landscape) for Vera it’s her final scene, for Ansell it’s his first. Vera’s fall is staged; Ansell’s comes as he is in fear for his life. Vera’s crying is quite convincing to fool Tony and us. Tony’s weakness in the end implies that he gives way to Barrett’s total control. Bogarde and Fox are of similar age to Shaw and McDowell in Figures in a Landscape. Likewise Shaw is in control but one would rather Barrett’s manipulation than Shaw’s character MacConnachie’s violence. Then again Barrett’s is an emotional violence throwing Tony into disarray though he was already an alcoholic when the film began, it can only get worse. Typical of Pinter that the final scene could be the final statement; that Susan won the battle but lost the war. There’s always tomorrow.

 

 

Bodies in Space: Donnie Darko (Kelly, 2001)

“I think the greatest thing I learned from Terry [Gilliam] is that every frame is worthy of attention to detail. Every frame is worthy of being frozen in time and then thrown on a wall like an oil painting, and if you work hard on every frame, the meaning of your film becomes deeper, more enhanced” Richard Kelly (2011)

The above quote from the director Richard Kelly perfectly captures the ‘introduction to school’ sequence of his debut feature. The themes of Donnie Darko (Kelly, 2001) are time travel, spirituality and existentialism, Kelly frequently has bodies moving in slow motion then fast, time travel through the medium of film. Nostalgia for 1988 is at every turn in the film. The first shot we see is tilted sideways of the back door of a school bus where ‘mongrels rule’ is written on the window, we hear church bells, the start of a morning. Before the door is fully opens a body floats across the frame. Then in perfect harmony of Donnie (Jake Gyllenhaal) jumping to the ground, we hear the opening bars of Tears for Fears ‘Head over Heels’, the camera tilts upright as Donnie approaches the school steps in slow-motion and the camera pans back. According to the DVD commentary Kelly said that the sequence was written and choreographed specifically with the song in mind. The sound of the door as it opens is surreal like the sounds in later scenes with Frank the Rabbit or sounds in the films of of David Lynch. It is descent into not quite hell, more a place of social awkwardness. The actors are brilliant in this sequence as each facial gesture embodies character. Donnie gives fearful look as he sees Seth (Alex Greenwald), he responds by giving Donnie a sarcastic grin indicating his intimidation and menace that we will see from him later in the film. Seth then gestures another sarcastic grin at Ms. Farmer (Beth Grant), she looks at him stone-faced, a perfect introduction to her values explored later in the film. Farmer and Principal Cole’s (David Moreland) walks in the hallway become fast motion then slow again. Cole is obvious to Seth ingesting cocaine five feet away from him. A sign on a locker reads ‘what would Satan do?’. The camera swerves quickly through this sequence to indicate the presence of another character.

 

When we see Gretchen (Jena Malone) we hear the lyrics ‘I wanted to be with you alone to talk about the weather’ foretelling Donnie’s later feelings for her. Her locker closing echoes on the soundtrack, the camera rotates through the space to show her looking off camera towards Seth. The whole sequence has a pop video sensibility, the bright fade to the back school yard is a sharp contrast to the night time scenes in Donnie Darko, a story of angels and demons, with its use of slow-motion. Nearly every frame in this sequence is ‘frozen in time’ as Kelly says. We see the sensitive Cherita (Jolene Chen) momentarily free from bullies. The camera floats as Jim Cunningham (Patrick Swayze) is introduced to Dr. Kenneth Monnitoff (Noah Wyle) and Karen Pomeroy (Drew Barrymore), their bodies float into the frame too, this is in perfect harmony with the belted line “something happens and I’m head over heels” as Karen almost scowls as she recognises Jim. Kenneth is holding back laughter, with the simple gesture of his arm on Karen and the way he can been seen to say ‘bye’ is a clear indication of their courtship. Karen then turns her disgust towards a group of dancing girls after which we see her throwing a drink in the bin almost tearfully. A friend of mine rightly said “You get the feel that Karen knows things that other characters don’t”. The sequence began with the opening of the bus door and ends with the closing of the classroom door. ‘Head over Heels’ blasts through the soundtrack of this sequence, leaving only the sound of the bells, the bus door, the locker and the classroom door to be otherwise heard.

These bodies in space represent the school dynamic of a supposedly ordinary day (2nd October 1988) if it were not a day in the life of Donnie Darko. Donnie’s eyes are dazed and confused, he is beyond normal reckoning. Dr. Thurman (Katharine Ross) tells Donnie; “If the sky were to suddenly open up, there would be no law, there would be no rule. There would only be you and your memories”. This two and a half minute sequence is a series of seven awkward encounters in which there are you only four cuts. Kelly’s decision to minimise the sound makes us look at the facial gestures closely on first time viewing. The camera is constantly moving even when Kenneth and Karen shake Jim’s hand it moves each time. It is time travel in slow-motion as bodies float in space whilst momentarily, they freeze.

45 Years (Haigh, 2015)

CONTAINS SPOILERS, READ IT AFTER YOU HAVE SEEN THE FILM

Memory is something that a film critic has to rely on when the film in question is not instantly at hand. The final scene of 45 Years (Haigh, 2015) is of a couple dancing at their 45th wedding anniversary, the woman breaks away from her husband after the dance, the camera looks at her in mid-shot, she looks devastated, cut to black. We hear the words “We’ve already said… Goodbye” It is the song ‘Go Now’ by The Moody Blues. This moment is everything that the film has built to up, it has an extraordinary emotional release. The woman is Kate (Charlotte Rampling), the film centres on her as she hears the news that her husband’s former girlfriend’s body has been found in the Swiss Alps, she fell to her death fifty years ago. The husband Geoff (Tom Courtenay) seemed to me to possibly have Alzheimer’s when we first meet him in this scene. He reveals himself to have possible mental problems in his old age, he in his is late seventies, about ten years older than Kate.

Geoff refers to his former love as ‘my Katya’ which clearly distresses Kate. Geoff is never seen alone, he is always with Kate. Often the framing shows us the distance between them. In one scene Kate walks into the living room, she is at the right of the frame with Geoff hidden by a side wall as she talks to him. In a bedroom scene we see Geoff in mid-shot whilst part of Kate’s lower body is at the bottom of the frame. If we think of film as being influenced by painting each of these shots represent these moments of separation.

We meet old friends of Kate and Geoff, Lena (Geraldine James) and George (David Sibley) and their daughter Charlotte (Dolly Wells), the film wisely does not focus on them for a subplot, this is Kate’s story, she is in every scene. We learn that Kate and Geoff had no children, only dogs. Geoff explains that he was there when Katya died, he was a bit ahead of her on a mountain. After further distress Kate goes up to the attic to find sideshow photos of Katya, (we hear the sideshow during the black screen of the opening credits). It is revealed through the photos that Kayta was carrying a baby at the time of her death. This is literally the only dramatic element to Haigh’s film. Geoff and Kate don’t discuss this, although Kate tells him that there are things that she knows that she cannot talk about.

45 Years has only one use of non-diegetic sound, the sound of icy water in the Swiss Alps that Kate has rattled in her brain. The music is all heard on the house, car and function room CD players. Haigh really embraces no film score just like Michael Haneke, less is more. From the sadness of the past to awkward silences at home and Kate wandering around Norwich town centre wondering what she means to Geoff. As she says to him ‘I think I was good enough for you, I just don’t think you do’. The film is set from Monday-Saturday, each day starts with the beautiful Norfolk landscape, repetitive in the best possible way like everyday life. The selection of the song ‘Go Now’ for the end credits is a fascinating one. Kate receives a phone call just after she was in the attic with the sideshow, she is asked to name the songs that she wants for the anniversary party. She names about five songs, hesitates and then chooses ‘Go Now’, this is possibly a spontaneous choice given her mental state in this scene. It describes how she feels and how I felt when that final shot hit me. Kate’s thoughts are ambiguous in this final moment however.

Passion for Cinema

There are too many film production courses in Ireland. Only around thirty features films can be made in Ireland every year. There needs to be equal emphasis on the history of film. Ban the equipment! Articulate the medium from within yourself. I studied production for two years in Ireland and film studies for two years in the UK. I found that the analysis of film was my strong point even though I struggled so much to articulate it in academic language at the time.

I find that a skilled technician for film does not always watch a lot of films, the same can be said of for film academics. Filmmaker William Friedkin has said he hasn’t watched many films since Blade Runner in 1982. Filmmaker Peter Greenaway says that we’ve had over a hundred years of illustrated text, we need to think visually. He said that film died in 1983 with the birth of the remote control giving the viewer the choice to change the channel. I am a cinephile. By cinephile I mean I’m open to film culture from not just Hollywood, the six continents of this world, knowing what you don’t know. As Mark Cousins argues “we don’t need to see these things that we’ve seen so many times”. It is to be passionately international to cinema; as Cousins, Jonathan Rosenbaum and Adrian Martin have taught us. I’ve watched Apichatpong’s Tropical Malady and Uncle Boonmee: Who Can Recall His Past Lives, I can’t emotionally connect to them, maybe I will in the future.

How important are the Oscars anyway? Recognition from Hollywood? Yes. Awards are taken too seriously and should never overshadow the greatness or dullness of a said film. Mike Leigh says that they are two kinds of cinema, Hollywood and World Cinema. I’m with Rosenbaum there are just good films and bad films from the six continents. There is an idea amongst some cinephobes that it’s acceptable to knock World Cinema, but not necessarily be highly critical of Hollywood because it’s all they see. As a critic you must ask as Cousins points out “what films are not being seen and why?”

In 2012 David Cameron urged the British film culture to go mainstream, BBC news presenters are heard to say “there is enough depressing films that no one sees in art cinemas. “Surely you know what films are going to be hits” “Surely a film can be judged by how good it is based on how much money it makes.” Cinema needs Mark Cousins to help open the doors to us to watching as many different films as possible. As Robert Bresson says “Make visible what, without you, might perhaps have never been seen”. The economic aspect of film culture is too narrow to be the only reason they are made. I see the main point in watching any film that they will hopefully be one image I can take from it. They must be made to be remembered. The worst thing a film can be is forgettable.

Writing about a film from memory is an art within itself. Michael Haneke’s Cache changed my life, I’ll never forget the way Haneke films Georges and Majid’s son in the lift, the reverse mirror, Georges reaction, this is Haneke’s cinema, making the insignificant significant. As Cousins argues “Cinema is better than any other art form at the repressed, sexual, damaged, dreamy, Freudian aspects of the human mind but it doesn’t look or feel rational because it isn’t. This is why it’s undervalued. This is why it doesn’t have the prestige it deserves.” The cinemas doors are open. Six doors to six continents, which one will you choose?

Rainer Werner Fassbinder

Rainer Werner Fassbinder had made 40 feature films before his death at the young age of 37 in 1982. Fear Eats the Soul (1974) is a film that stares, right from the opening scene. Decent people have to bear it and get on with their lives. Fox and His Friends (1975) is possibly the most autobiographical of Fassbinder’s films with himself in the lead role as a gay man who wins the lottery, moves in with his lover and tries to live his life before it falls apart in front of him. The Bitter Tears of Petra von Kant (1972) co-stars Hanna Schygulla who appears in half of Fassbinder’s films. Schygulla is the new lover of costume designer Petra, their world is closed, taking place entirely in Petra’s house. The heartache, despair and beautiful moments like the dance to The Flamingos ‘I Only Have Eyes for You’ haunt the memory. Fassbinder based Beware of a Holy Whore (1971) on the making of his previous film Whity (1971). Lou Castel is a crazy and hot-headed actor turned director. A wide-shot of Schygulla and other dancing around a battered Castel perfectly capture the madness. Hanna Schygulla stars in The Marriage of Maria Braun (1979), her beauty, pose and determination make her incarnate of Fassbinder. His camera captures the despair and willfulness of his characters head-on. There isn’t a filmmaker who makes films more personal than him.

Nicolas Roeg

Nic Roeg films have taken us to London, the Australian Outback, Venice, New Mexico, Vienna, Vancouver and back to London. He co-directed his first film Performance (Roeg and Cammell, 1970) with Donald Cammell in his hometown of London, Roeg lives not far from Turner’s house in Notting Hill. He turns 87 this August and from what I’ve seen he is full life and humour. He began as an assistant cameraman in the early 1950s, becoming a cinematographer in the 1960s, working with the likes of David Lean and Francois Truffaut. I’ve been reading John Izod’s Jungian study of Roeg, The Films of Nicolas Roeg: Myth and Mind (1992), I find half of it difficult to grasp but the other half is fascinating. Roeg also wrote a book, a memoir of sorts, The World is Ever Changing. It is a joy of ideas and wealth of experience, structured like one of his films. Credit must given to the wonderful screenwriters such as Paul Mayersberg who wrote The Man Fell to Earth (Roeg, 1976) and Eureka (Roeg, 1983) and Allan Scott who wrote Don’t Look Now (Roeg, 1973), (with Chris Bryant) Castaway (Roeg, 1986) The Witches (Roeg, 1990), Cold Heaven (Roeg, 1991), Two Deaths (Roeg, 1995) and Samson and Delilah (Roeg, 1996). All of which are literary adaptations. Dennis Potter who adapted his television play Schmoedipus (Davis, 1974)  into Track 29 (Roeg, 1988). Roeg and Potter were a partnership made in heaven, each are interested in human discourse and themes of alienation and time. Bad Timing (Roeg, 1980) was Yale Udoff’s first screenplay, further themes of alienation and time, Theresa Russell’s character writes “I wish you could understand less and love me more. I wish you would not defining”.

Performance was the beginning of Roegian editing, time going forward and back. The final image of the car driving away into the distance with voodo music is enigmatic, one of the great endings of all-time. Then again so many of Nic Roeg’s endings are great. John Barry’s score of Walkabout (Roeg, 1971) might be his best, poignant and soulful. Walkabout’s script was 14 pages long, it is about tone, mood and the breathtaking cinematography by Roeg himself. The ending of Walkabout moved me deeply when I first saw it, A.E. Housman’s A Shropshire Lad took me beyond the end credits. I was lost like Jenny Agutter was. Don’t Look Now is Roeg’s best known film, it about a couple who lose their child, then go to Venice so that Donald Sutherland can restore a church. Pino Donaggio’s score is first solemn then starling. The film knows fear only too well.

In New Mexico a world away from Venice, David Bowie is The Man Who Fell to Earth, it is the beautifully simple story of an alien who comes down to earth looking for water to save his planet, he becomes an alcoholic. Roeg’s narrative structure is unique and ahead of its time. He wrote a sign for audiences going in to the see film, saying ‘go in with an open mind, it won’t connect up like you might expect it to’. Bowie’s thin figure and Anthony Richmond’s spacious cinematography give the film its own world.

I spent an afternoon in Vienna with a friend searching for the apartment of Theresa Russell from my favourite Roeg film Bad Timing it was sadly demolished for a shopping centre still in early stages. Re-watching Bad Timing recently cemented in my brain its soul, uniqueness and the touch of that Roegian juxtaposed editing. In one scene in a POV shot Art Garfunkel looks as a nurse speaks to him, she stares at us, whilst Harvey Keitel appears in the foreground, he winks at Garfunkel. Everything about it is Nic Roegian; uncomfortable, bizarre and stupendous. Garfunkel and Keitel both wear black suits, Roeg juxaposes the two with a picture, Garfunkel puts it up on his wall and Keitel takes it down. Roeg and ex-wife Theresa Russell made seven films together. She told Nic that he has such bad timing with the producers, that’s where the title came from. Russell starred as Gene Hackman’s daughter in Roeg’s next film Eureka, a film that after seeing it a few times I still struggle to piece it together. There is a wonderful courtroom scene in which Russell states to her husband Rutger Hauer “You tripped and you stumbled and I picked you up”. I’ve gone back to that scene many times, I think it’s Russell’s finest moment.

Insignificance (Roeg, 1985) with Russell as Marilyn Monroe is interesting, but it loses me in its ideas. Oliver Reed is a great actor but Castaway isn’t one of Roeg’s films to revisit. Roeg contributed a segment for Aria (Roeg et al, 1987), a fictional account of the attempted assassination of King Zog I of Albania to the music of Giuseppe Verdi’s Un ballo in maschera. Russell plays the king. In the opening scene she appears as an actress overlooking Vienna once again. Track 29 may be Roeg’s last great film. It stars Russell once again, in relationship with an older man (common in her film roles) Christopher Lloyd. Gary Oldman at his maniac best may be Russell’s son. Even though Russell is exactly one year and one day older than Oldman, the film is strong enough to edge away from it. Russell’s friend Colleen Camp looks and dresses like Russell. Russell is trapped in a generic lifestyle, her husband struggles to communicate with women, he fears them. In the opening scene Oldman flickers onto the screen on a bridge which is reminiscent of The Man Who Fell to Earth, Oldman even has Bowie’s red hair style. John Lennon’s song Mother blares on the soundtrack, perfectly emphasising Oldman’s rage. This is a fitting contrast to Russell smiling before driving away to escape the madness at the end of the film.

The Witches was the first Nic Roeg film that I saw, I was too young to know much about cinema then. Having just re-watched it it such a bizarre film, it veers towards Ken Russell’s The Devils (Russell, 1971) especially when the hotel is in chaos after an unexpected mass of mice. Some of the witches are clearly men in drag, Roeg’s sense of humour no doubt. Allan Scott gives Rowan Atkinson some fine comic moments. Roald Dahl hated the film’s ending of a recently turned white witch played by Jane Horrocks turning Luke back into a boy. In the book he stays a mouse. There is scene in the hotel where Anjelica Huston sees a child in a painting, she smiles and taps the image with her finger. Horrocks approaches the painting, before she can touch it Huston calls her away. I’ve seeing this film so many times, I never realised that this is a sign of Horrocks’ goodness by attempting to release the child. After the Horrocks walks away, there is a close-up of the painting, the child disappears.

The poster of Cold Heaven has Theresa Russell looking knowing and ever beautiful dressed in black. The film isn’t one of Roeg’s best efforts though Russell is endearing. Her brief voice-over strikes a cord in my memory. Roeg and Russell’s final collaboration together was an erotic short drama Hotel Paradise (Roeg, 1995). I have only seen six of the film’s thirty minutes, it still has Roeg’s touch of fluid camera placement. Roeg’s most recent film is the Northern Ireland set supernatural mystery thriller Puffball (Roeg, 2007) starring Kelly Reilly, Miranda Richardson, Rita Tushingham and a cameo from Donald Sutherland. I struggled with its plot and devious characters. Nic Roeg really was ahead of his time, the most alive of any filmmaker I know. Roeg has said after Puffball that maybe the last film he ever makes will have a happy ending, he had one in The Witches but I’ll go with Track 29’s blissful hysteria, Theresa Russell was made for cinema.

Note:

I’ve yet to see Glastonbury Fayre (Roeg and Neal, 1972), Sweet Bird of Youth (Roeg, 1989), The Young Indiana Jones Chronicles episode, Paris, October 1916 (Roeg, 1993), Heart of Darkness (Roeg, 1993), the rest of Hotel Paradise (1995), Two Deaths (1995), Full Body Massage (Roeg, 1995), Samson and Delilah (1996) and The Sound of Claudia Schiffer (Roeg, 2000).