Directed by Terence Davies
* * *
With precise recollection, I
can remember being at a small club in Phoenix. It is dark, lit only by the darkened purple of black-lights. I’m swiftly getting up off of a stool to
rush to the dance floor upon hearing a particularly compelling series of rapid-fire
synthesized bass lines, accompanied by the razor-sharp vocals of one Douglas J.
McCarthy. How vividly do I recall dancing my ass off like nobody’s watching as
the vicious beats pulsated the night away. I am forced to recall this
particular moment every single time I hear “Murderous”, a song by British EBM
band Nitzer Ebb. The overwhelming power of music’s ability to “take you back”
has always been one of my favorite experiences throughout life.
Music and nostalgia are at the
core of Distant Voices, Still Lives
by Terence Davies, often regarded as one of the very greatest of British
cinema. In spite of the renowned reputation of Davies’ humble 1988 classic, it
has been virtually unavailable in the United States for home viewing. Very recently,
however, a joint venture Arrow Academy and the BFI have brought us a brand new
4K restoration in commemoration for its 30th anniversary. Though I
was unable to enjoy the theatrical experience, the joint venture has subsequently
released a terrific Blu-Ray.
Told in two separate chapters
(dubbed “Distant Voices” and “Still Lives”), it chronicles the dreariness of
England during and after World War 2 from the struggles of a working-class
family in Liverpool. The first chapter recounts their tumultuous relationship
with the family patriarch (Pete Postlethwaite), a man who rules the family with
an iron fist and will have it no other way. Spliced in between memories of his
tyranny are his final moments, where he lays dying, surrounded by the same
family he showed no mercy.
The second chapter follows the
three children of this family – Eileen (Angela Walsh), Maisie (Lorraine
Ashbourne), and Tony (Dean Williams). As adults, they are all approaching the
realm of marriage. As their relationships unravel, they don’t seem to bring the
joy so mercilessly promised. Their only means of solace, and what ties the
fragmented narrative together, is music. Whether it be the radio, the church
organ, or singing together over a pint at the local pub, their spirits are
always lifted to the heavens when their ears are graced with the miracle of
music.
Earlier this year, I had my
first Davies experience with his ’92 film The
Long Day Closes. The techniques
and aesthetics applied throughout the film, through use of dream-like tracking
shots, soft focus, and bright lighting on key figures, bring feelings of
nostalgia and memory – not only that, but manages to bring about the warm
feeling associated with recollection of days of youth. Most impressively, these
feelings are brought about even before we the viewers know anything about the stories
or characters that radiate upon the screen before us. It is very fragmented in its
story-telling, but any chronological confusion never becomes frustrating to the
viewer, as it is evident that it is more concerned with capturing a feeling
rather than telling a story. That said, as much as I appreciated The Long Day Closes, I ultimately felt
very underwhelmed after it was over. It’s only been a few months since I
previously watched that film, and I’ve already forgotten the vast majority of
it.
One may be puzzled as to why I
dedicate an entire paragraph to a different movie. Well, on top of being a sequel
of sorts, The Long Day Closes is
stylistically identical to Distant
Voices, Still Lives. Because of this, I must admit that as world-renowned
as this film is, I still feel somewhat underwhelmed upon first impressions. Because
of its emphasis on memory over story and characters, I feel like I can’t get
fully invested in the lives of those who inhabit the film. Granted, there are
plenty of films that favor style over substance that wind up being remarkable
and some of the greatest achievements in cinema – Distant Voices, Still Lives just doesn’t do it for me at this
moment.
However, I emphasize “at this
moment”. It’s been about a day since I finished watching Distant Voices, Still Lives, and I have not been able to completely
shake what I’ve seen. Watching these characters amidst a backdrop of the faded
bricks that fill the alleys and rain-soaked roads, seeing the struggles they trudge
through and then to see them burst into song as if they’re ascending into
heaven is truly a joy to behold – yes, a cliché phrase, but it’s more than
appropriate here.
And there are truly some
emotionally striking moments, one in particular will haunt me for the rest of
my life: one of the young daughters reunites with her father in an air raid
shelter as their city is under attack. After striking her for her truancy, he
grips her by the shoulders rather violently. As the bombs drop, he demands –
nay, he begs – her to sing, to which she obliges, as if it’s their only hope.
Though this is the one moment
that sticks out the most to me, the film is
filled with moments like these. The key word here is “moment”, and here is
where I reserve my complete judgment of the film – moments are what this film
is all about, and for that I don’t fault it at all. In fact, I commend it. But does
it make for a great film in the long-run? Well, I’ve only just seen the film for
the first time ever, in spite of its 30-year life-span, and I’m going off of
first impressions. Take this with a grain of salt, because the more I stew on
this film, the more I’m convinced there is a marvel here that I’m just not
awarding credit. For now, it is superlative in technique and mood, but
underwhelming in substance.
But then again, that's the point, is it not?
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