It was one of the most desolate looking places in the world.

They Shall Not Grow Old

(2018)

Peter Jackson's They Shall Not Grow Old, broadcast by the BBC on the centenary of Armistice Day, is "sold" on the attraction and curiosity value of restored, colourised and frame rate-enhanced footage. On that level, this World War I documentary, utilising a misquote from Laurence Binyon's poem for its title, is frequently an eye-opener, transforming the stuttering, blurry visuals that have hitherto informed subsequent generations' relationship with the War. However, that's only half the story; the other is the use of archive interviews with veterans to provide a narrative, exerting an effect often more impacting for what isn't said than for what is.

The predominant thrust of those voices is a matter-of-fact, make-do and "we just got on with it" one, symbolic of a generation still several removed from PTSD as an introduced term and shell shock recognised but mostly misunderstood. The effect is frequently disconcerting, particularly that of an upper-class veteran (an officer, presumably) seemingly casually batting away all notion that anything was other than a mild inconvenience. More representative is "It was terrible at times, but I wouldn't have missed it"; even when confirming the horrors of the experience and of life at the front, there's a mask of formality ("Well, all my romantic ideas of war, completely vanished"; "It was a wonderful feeling. I've been in battle and I'm so very proud of it"). As such, one veteran's recollection stands out, of a dying soldier calling for his nanny "so I shot him", his voice cracking as he concludes "… But it hurt me". Striking too is the response to armistice, how no one celebrated; "It was one of the flattest moments of our lives", as if they had been kicked out of a job or made redundant.

Jackson's decision to take us through recruits' training before introducing us to his enhanced footage at the 25-minute mark is very much the showman's, and there's a slight consequent feeling of "Now, this is what you came for: war! In glorious Technicolor!". Jonathan Romney articulated well his concerns over what might be deemed "improper" aspects of the project in a review for Film Comment, and while I don't necessarily concur, they're certainly worth considering.

There's little in the way of conflict footage – except from a distance – such that Jackson opts for artists' interpretations. As a consequence, some of the most affecting images are those of the soldiers' squalid, infested conditions; it's here that the stoic, sometimes humorous memories of those involved form a particularly striking contrast to the grim reality. In terms of the effectiveness of colourising process, while it is frequently revelatory, it's also ironically often distancing, creating strangely dissonant, ghoulish faces in otherwise perfectly rendered shots, almost as if modern techniques are only "allowed" so far in updating yesterday.

It might be argued that Jackson doesn't interrogate the background to the conflict sufficiently. Admittedly, his appointed remit is of those involved telling their own, up-close-and-personal accounts, but such depoliticising could be regarded as enabling the latest novelty item in the war nostalgia industry, with just enough gruesome imagery to ensure the viewer doesn't remain too nonchalantly distant.

The closest he comes to addressing this side is in recollections regarding German POWs, and how there was general agreement by both sides over "how useless war was and why did it have to happen". This is further underlined by the disinterest at home on their return from the conflict: "People didn’t seem to realise what a terrible thing war was". So too, I'm sure Jackson didn't leave the comment "I still can't see the justification for it" until the end by coincidence. It might be interesting to see similar techniques employed for other projects – the dedication to Jackson's grandfather rather underlines that, for all the many voices and faces, a name is put to no one – even if they won't necessarily carry such obvious cachet, but for all that he has worked wonders with the footage, it's the soundtrack that remains most poignant.

Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.

Comments

No matter how innocent you are, or how hard you try, they’ll find you guilty.

The Wrong Man (1956) (SPOILERS) I hate to say it, but old Truffaut called it right on this one. More often than not showing obeisance to the might of Hitchcock during his career-spanning interview, the French critic turned director was surprisingly blunt when it came to The Wrong Man . He told Hitch “ your style, which has found its perfection in the fiction area, happens to be in total conflict with the aesthetics of the documentary and that contradiction is apparent throughout the picture ”. There’s also another, connected issue with this, one Hitch acknowledged: too much fidelity to the true story upon which the film is based.

He’s so persistent! He always gets his man.

Speed (1994) (SPOILERS) It must have been a couple of decades since I last viewed Speed all the way through, so it’s pleasing to confirm that it holds up. Sure, Jan de Bont’s debut as a director can’t compete with the work of John McTiernan, for whom he acted as cinematographer and who recommended de Bont when he passed on the picture, but he nevertheless does a more than competent work. Which makes his later turkeys all the more tragic. And Keanu and Sandra Bullock display the kind of effortless chemistry you can’t put a price tag on. And then there’s Dennis Hopper, having a great old sober-but-still-looning time.

Another case of the screaming oopizootics.

Doctor Who Season 14 – Worst to Best The best Doctor Who season? In terms of general recognition and unadulterated celebration, there’s certainly a strong case to be made for Fourteen. The zenith of Robert Holmes and Philip Hinchcliffe’s plans for the series finds it relinquishing the cosy rapport of the Doctor and Sarah in favour of the less-trodden terrain of a solo adventure and underlying conflict with new companion Leela. More especially, it finds the production team finally stretching themselves conceptually after thoroughly exploring their “gothic horror” template over the course of the previous two seasons (well, mostly the previous one).

He is a brigand and a lout. Pay him no serious mention.

The Wind and the Lion (1975) (SPOILERS) John Milius called his second feature a boy’s-own adventure, on the basis of the not-so-terrified responses of one of those kidnapped by Sean Connery’s Arab Raisuli. Really, he could have been referring to himself, in all his cigar-chomping, gun-toting reactionary glory, dreaming of the days of real heroes. The Wind and the Lion rather had its thunder stolen by Jaws on release, and it’s easy to see why. As polished as the picture is, and simultaneously broad-stroke and self-aware in its politics, it’s very definitely a throwback to the pictures of yesteryear. Only without the finger-on-the-pulse contemporaneity of execution that would make Spielberg and Lucas’ genre dives so memorable in a few short years’ time.

But everything is wonderful. We are in Paris.

Cold War (2018) (SPOILERS) Pawel Pawlikowski’s elliptical tale – you can’t discuss Cold War without saying “elliptical” at least once – of frustrated love charts a course that almost seems to be a caricature of a certain brand of self-congratulatorily tragic European cinema. It was, it seems “ loosely inspired ” by his parents (I suspect I see where the looseness comes in), but there’s a sense of calculation to the progression of this love story against an inescapable political backdrop that rather diminishes it.

The game is rigged, and it does not reward people who play by the rules.

Hustlers (2019) (SPOILERS) Sold as a female Goodfellas – to the extent that the producers had Scorsese in mind – this strippers-and-crime tale is actually a big, glossy puff piece, closer to Todd Phillips as fashioned by Lorene Scarfia. There are some attractive performances in Hustlers, notably from Constance Wu, but for all its “progressive” women work male objectification to their advantage posturing, it’s incredibly traditional and conservative deep down.

What do they do, sing madrigals?

The Singing Detective (2003) Icon’s remake of the 1986 BBC serial, from a screenplay by Dennis Potter himself. The Singing Detective fares less well than Icon’s later adaptation of Edge of Darkness , even though it’s probably more faithful to Potter’s original. Perhaps the fault lies in the compression of six episodes into a feature running a quarter of that time, but the noir fantasy and childhood flashbacks fail to engage, and if the hospital reality scans better, it too suffers eventually.

They literally call themselves “Decepticons”. That doesn’t set off any red flags?

Bumblebee (2018) (SPOILERS) Bumblebee is by some distance the best Transformers movie, simply by dint of having a smattering of heart (one might argue the first Shia LaBeouf one also does, and it’s certainly significantly better than the others, but it’s still a soulless Michael Bay “machine”). Laika VP and director Travis Knight brings personality to a series that has traditionally consisted of shamelessly selling product, by way of a nostalgia piece that nods to the likes of Herbie (the original), The Iron Giant and even Robocop .

How would Horatio Alger have handled this situation?

Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas (1998) (SPOILERS) Gilliam’s last great movie – The Zero Theorem (2013) is definitely underrated, but I don’t think it’s that underrated – Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas could easily have been too much. At times it is, but in such instances, intentionally so. The combination of a visual stylist and Hunter S Thompson’s embellished, propulsive turn of phrase turns out, for the most part, to be a cosmically aligned affair, embracing the anarchic abandon of Raoul Duke and Doctor Gonzo’s Las Vegas debauch while contriving to pull back at crucial junctures in order to engender a perspective on all this hedonism. Would Alex Cox, who exited stage left, making way for the Python, have produced something interesting? I suspect, ironically, he would have diluted Thompson in favour of whatever commentary preoccupied him at the time (indeed, Johnny Depp said as much: “ Cox had this great material to work with and he took it and he added his own stuff to it ”). Plus

That’s what people call necromancer’s weather.

The Changes (1975) This adaptation of Peter Dickinson’s novel trilogy carries a degree of cult nostalgia cachet due to it being one of those more “adult” 1970s children’s serials (see also The Children of the Stones , The Owl Service ). I was too young to see it on its initial screening – or at any rate, too young to remember it – but it’s easy to see why it lingered in the minds of those who did. Well, the first episode, anyway. Not for nothing is The Changes seen as a precursor to The Survivors in the rural apocalypse sub-genre – see also the decidedly nastier No Blade of Grass – as following a fairly gripping opener, it drifts off into the realm of plodding travelogue.

Now In Full Color, with a Happier Ending

Search This Blog