No.17 Distant Voices, Still Lives -
Terrence Davies, 1988
Ranked #420
He was a bastard and I bleedin' hated him. - Maisie
Filmed two years apart, using two different crews, 'Distant Voices' and 'Still Lives' are expertly melded together with deft craft and care by one of Britain's best living directors, Terrence Davies. In what eventually became his breakthrough film, winning several international awards on the festival circuit and universally applauded by critics alike,
Distant Voices, Still Lives is the autobiographical tale of the directors upbringing, in a working class family, set in Liverpool during the late 40's and early 50's. Weaving a tapestry of music, smoke, slow pans and still frames, Davies builds a tableau of memory and community, of violence and recriminations, of love and regret, so rich and deep it evokes years of incident and history from one seamless reel to the other.
Distant Voices, Still Lives plays out in the same fashion that memories are triggered by sights, sounds and smells; certain things, locations and noises that transport you back to a certain place and time in your life, which is then easily married into another memory of a differing time yet still sweep into one another with ease. In using this technique Davies' moving account dispels with some of the more traditional narrative devices, yet through the skill of threading images and music, the suture of themes, colours and characters, there remains a cohesion, a story and a beautiful rendition of life in working class Liverpool.
Two years passed between the films being made and it's this passage of time which really gives
Distant Voices, Still Lives a massive dose of authenticity. Despite the changing crews there isn't so much to distinguish between the films other than that of tone, whereas Distant Voices feels more threatening, mostly from the looming presence of Tommy (
Pete Postlethwaithe) as the violent, wife-beating father, Still Lives opens itself up to more serene imagery, happiness and the chance of a better tomorrow. Abandoning a linear narrative structure, the two parts of the film work in tandem as a whole, recycling memories, playing against and, at once, with each other to form a picture dysfunctional, normal, everyday lives.
Visually, Davies fills the screen with sombre colours, dull greys and browns dominate the frame, sepia tinged, almost appearing frayed at the edges, each shot feels like a photograph, dusty and well thumbed that now sits in the attic. Shots linger, things go unsaid and characters remain still, adding to the illusion and attaining to the title 'still lives'. Perfectly composed, most shots are painstakingly free of thrills and gimmicks; tracking shots are kept to a minimum and move with grace when they do, gently hovering over it's subject with care and precision. It's this graceful movement, unhurried and clutter free, that manages to marry those images so effortlessly as if they were random thoughts and memories.
We witness our main characters, the father, Tommy, his wife (
Freda Dowie) and mother to, Eileen (
Angela Walsh), Maisie (
Lorraine Ashbourne) and Tony (
Dean Williams), through an array of eclectic set pieces and moments, pieced together with deliberate care, as if the curator would map out the walls of an exhibit, as they age, marry, reminisce; as well as recreate the past, and eventually, for some of them, die. Major events, celebrations and the everyday are mixed together, weaving in and out of time, playing off each other and triggering new paths to follow. Holding together these vastly eclectic and mirroring images is the ever presence of music, in all it's glories; popular and classical, from the pub sing-song to the hit of the time.
Music is not only important as a way of marrying images, it acts as signifier to our protagonists cultural identity, tinged with raw emotion and some rose tinted nostalgia. In
Distant Voices, Still Lives, communities are brought together by collective singing, mostly gathered around a table in a pub, it can also act as a conduit to letting out some bottled up, and frustrated, feelings; note for instance Eileen's choice of song when ordered around by her husband. The use of music is at it's most powerful when Davies uses the same piece over widely contrasting moments; those hard to watch scenes that, for example, can move from an innocent child fretting about their mother washing the upstairs window to domestic violence, all edited together in a
three minute shot, marked by the same beautiful, jovial song.
Music, the rise of popular culture, such as the local dance or the cinema, and the communal act of singing are strong escapists themes throughout
Distant Voices, Still Lives and solely acted on by the whim of women. Men on the other hand feel displaced and threatened, often lashing out, either physically or mentally, trying to control their women. Despite his death, Tommy's spirit looms large, an omnipotent presence, the 'Distant Voice', that keeps his family, his women, in check. Tony, the only boy, never feels like part of this equation and maybe this is the Davies figure, a young man alone, unloved and foreign to the culture around him, never really finding his place to fit in.
Realistic, poetic and deeply affective,
Distant Voices, Still Lives could have easily sunk in to a well of self-indulgence and lofty pretentiousness, nothing could be further from the truth. With understated grandeur, Davies has produced a British classic, one that despite it's fixed identity of place will resonate with people all over. You can't help but wince though when you realise that this sort of film would never be financed today, not in the current British Film industry climate. Such an
auteur film could not be tolerated, where's the market in that? Depressing. However none of this can take away from, what is surely, a masterpiece, not only in Britain, but the world over.
I'm can't finish this piece without acknowledging, and sharing, the breathtaking scene above. Davies, as a young man, like the women in his film, found solace and peace through the popular arts and nowhere was this more resonant than the cinema. From the umbrellas in the rain, to the smoke lofting through the air to the pure, undiluted, joy and tears on the young women's faces - everything about it sums up my love of cinema. Enjoy.
Originally posted on:
Film for the Soul