Category: film
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Werner Herzog’s pilgrimage to Paris
Many think Werner Herzog our greatest living film-maker. His major fiction films of the 1970s and 1980s will always find new viewers. Aguirre, Wrath of God, a study in conspiracy, tyranny and madness, has a claim to be one of the most powerful ever made. Once you’ve seen it the first time, with its dense…
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North from Cwmgïedd
Some of the solo days out I remember best are the result of fleeing from some ‘unmissable’ public event. The marriage of Charles Windsor and Diana Spencer on 29 July 1981 was the excuse for a blissful day-long bike ride, from Hereford to Cardiff via the Wye valley, when the lanes were emptied of cars…
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Norman McLaren’s ‘Neighbours’
In the year I was born, 1952, just seven years after the end of the Second World War, the National Film Board of Canada in Montreal released a remarkable political film entitled Neighbours. Just over eight minutes long, it was the work of Norman McLaren, a Scottish director who’d settled in Canada. It was widely…
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A Pointless trip
1 M4 The thermometer’s well below zero, but we’re bowling happily along, in light traffic. Apocalyptic language in the news and weather reports – ‘Beast from the East’, amber warnings, trains cancelled before a flake has fallen – suggests the whole country lies under a thick layer of snow and ice. On the radio…
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Walking to meet heroes
In October 1705 Johann Sebastian Bach set out on foot on a journey of 260 miles. He was twenty years old. He’d recently been in a brawl with a musician he’d insulted in the market place of his home town of Arnstadt in Thuringia, central Germany. The church authorities who employed him as organist in…
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‘A kestrel for a knave’: in memoriam Barry Hines
In March the news came that Barry Hines had died. My mind flashed back to the time when I went with my mother to a cinema in Barnsley to see Kes, Ken Loach’s second feature film that was based on Hines’s short novel, A kestrel for a knave, published in 1968. It was late 1969…
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Buster Keaton and Samuel Beckett
Buster Keaton, the twentieth century’s greatest comic, and Samuel Beckett, its most naked and unillusioned writer, once collaborated on a short silent film, based on Beckett’s only film script. I hadn’t realised this till yesterday. Or maybe I did know at one time, but forgot long ago – a common enough Beckettian condition. It was…