I’m absurdly late to this, I know (blame my holiday), but here’s an introductory post about the screen version of Julius Caesar that we are immensely proud of co-producing with the Donmar. Phyllida Lloyd has directed a screen version of her stage production which is one part of a Shakespeare trilogy with an all-female cast led by Harriet Walter (above). The three plays were presented by the Donmar in a specially built theatre at King’s X in the months running up to Christmas late year, and we have also filmed Henry IV and The Tempest. Details of these releases are to come, but Julius Caesar had its premiere last month at the Edinburgh International Film Festival and then just under a fortnight ago it began a limited theatrical release in UK cinemas (with a handful of dates still to come). The film will go out into the world in other ways too, and plans for those are just now being finalised. Extracts from reactions are below, but first here is the trailer for the film.
Six weeks since I last posted. We’ve recorded another stage performance for BBC Two and a classical concert for Sky Arts – details of both of those soon. Our co-production with the Donmar of Julius Caesar has been launched into the world, and I’m just returning from a glorious fortnight in la France profonde. Above is the house where we were staying, close to the small town of Puylaroque. To ease myself back into this, here are some interesting links from the past few weeks.
• Populism’s perfect storm: a wide-ranging essay for Boston Review by that brings together a lot of recent stuff, by Rogers Brubaker, Professor of Sociology and UCLA Foundation Chair at the University of California, Los Angeles.
• Discovering Kinemacolor: Luke McKernan on ‘the world’s first successful natural colour motion picture system’, widely used in the seven or eight years after 1908; illustrated with some great framegrabs.
• The thinking machine 9 – The Sea Speaks: a new and beautiful video essay by Cristina Álvarez López & Adrian Martin, drawn from the interwar films of Jean Epstein:
Using the latest in VR technology, Collishaw is set to restage one of the world’s first major exhibitions of photography for contemporary audiences. Visitors will travel back in time to 1839, when British scientist William Henry Fox Talbot first presented his photographic prints to the public at King Edward’s School in Birmingham.
The experience will be a fully immersive portal to the past; visitors can walk freely throughout a digitally reconstructed room, and will be able to touch the bespoke vitrines, fixtures and mouldings; even the heat from a coal fire will be recreated. Infrared sensors will track visitors’ movements, creating ghostly avatars that indicate their position and enhance the feeling of travelling through time. Collishaw has also created a soundscape to accompany the exhibition: the demonstrations of the Chartist protesters who rioted in 1839 on the streets of Birmingham, and who can be glimpsed through the digital windows.
The original 19th-century exhibition, staged by the British Association for the Advancement of Science, celebrated cutting edge technological innovation. Many new inventions were premiered there, a number of which have been faithfully researched and digitally reconstructed for today’s audiences. Unfortunately, Fox Talbot’s original images have faded almost beyond recognition with several of the surviving photographs existing only in light-proof vaults. Thresholds not only restages an important historical exhibition but provides a way to view images that have since been lost to the public.
Next Thursday, 15 June, as part of the conference Britain, Canada and the Arts at Senate House in London, which I have helped to draw together, I am introducing a special screening (open to all) of two television drama productions from the ground-breaking series Armchair Theatre. The context is an exploration of the pioneering producer Sydney Newman who came to Britain in 1958 after working for Canadian television. There’s lots I want to write about the two exceptional dramas that we’ll show, and I intend to do that over the next couple of days, but first let me enthuse about the interest and quality of both – and suggest that the screening, which is open to all, is something that you might want to put into your schedule.
Armchair Theatre was started by the ITV company ABC Television before Sydney Newman arrived in Britain, but its Sunday night strand quickly became associated with his commitment to original dramas engaged with contemporary issues. This screening is a rare opportunity to see two of the surviving productions, the first a social drama of working-class life and the other an ambitious tale of the space race with an intriguing Canadian connection. The pairing also highlights the talents of two of the directors who first worked with Newman at CBC in the mid-1950s and then followed him to Britain, Ted Kotcheff and Chalres Jarrott.
Lena, O My Lena (1960)
Writer: Alun Owen; director: Ted Kotcheff; producer: Sydney Newman; 50 minutes.
Alun Owen’s play is set in a Lancashire factory, and is among the most distinguished examples of the series’ social realist drama. A cross-class tale of love, it features Peter McEnery (pictured above) as a young student and Billie Whitelaw as a hard-bitten factory worker. Director Ted Kotcheff demonstrates an innovative approach to the developing conventions of studio drama and draws exceptional performances from a cast that also includes Colin Blakely.
The Man Out There (1961)
Writer: Donal Giltinan; director: Charles Jarrott; producer: Sydney Newman; 50 minutes.
Patrick McGoohan is a Russian astronaut who is trapped in orbit by malfunctioning equipment. Freak electric storms mean that the only person he can communicate with is Marie, played by Katharine Blake, who is herself caught in blizzard in a remote Canadian cabin. He has to work out how to get home, she has to deal with a mortally ill child. Imaginative direction by Jarrott enlivens this space race tale shown just a month before Yuri Gagarin became the first man in space.
This week’s selection of links to articles and one video that have attracted my eye and ear, with my thanks to those who pointed me towards them. And just for a change, let’s ignore the idiocies of the public world and begin with some cinema links…
• Wayward ways and ways not taken: David Bordwell contributes a brilliant post after viewing nearly a hundred American features from 1914-1918 at the Library of Congress. As he writes, the experience ‘drove home to me how excitingly strange movies can sometimes be.’
Featuring the talents of John Thaw, Ian Holm, Warren Clarke, Ian Hendry, Tom Bell, Ray Smith and Robert Urquhart, The Frighteners features thirteen haunting tales of malice and manipulation, vengeance and mounting terror. It features stories from acclaimed novelist and playwright William Trevor, Bouquet of Barbed Wire author Andrea Newman, Get Carter writer/director Mike Hodges and Secret Army co-creator Wilfred Greatorex.
My copy is on its way, and I’ll write again when I’ve taken a look, but irrespective of what I think of the series, the simple fact of the release is well worth celebrating. In part this is because the title is yet one more contribution to Network’s truly wonderful work in making accessible much of the extant drama in ITV’s archives. This is a public service of great value to all of us interested in television history – and the fact that it is being achieved in a commercial context is only one of its remarkable aspects. read more »
On Tuesday night BFI Southbank screens a film that is, for me, one of the singular masterpieces of television drama, Richard Eyre’s film Country from a script by Trevor Griffiths. Made for BBC Television in 1981, this rarely-seen 80-minute drama scrutinises an upper-class family in the eve of the Labour election victory in 1945. A peerless cast includes James Fox, Leo McKern, Wendy Hiller and Penelope Wilton. Why this film is not widely recognised as one of the key British cultural achievements of the late 20th century is a mystery to me – although of course the fact that it was made for (what was then then, as still it is now to a degree) the less respectable small screen, rather than the cinema, is part of the answer. So too is the fact that the film has never been available on VHS or DVD.
It is a great, complex, powerful, richly imagined work – and the chance to see it on a large screen is one not to be missed. (Although frustratingly I have to, since I will be in Stratford-upon-Avon prepping next week’s live relay of the RSC’s Antony & Cleopatra.) As I noted last week, in 1984 BFI Publishing released my book-length analysis of Trevor Griffiths’s television drama, Powerplays, which I co-authored with my former Time Out colleague Mike Poole. Below is part of what we wrote about Country thirty-plus years ago. read more »
A selection of links to interesting stuff from the past week, with the usual implied virtual thanks to those who alerted me to many of them.
• Who will be left?: among the many good points that Tom Crewe makes in his LRB analysis of Jeremy Corbyn and today’s Labour party is this: ‘The world we live in now is recognisably the one 1997 (and 2001 and 2005) made.’
Using words to lie destroys language. Using words to cover up lies, however subtly, destroys language. Validating incomprehensible drivel with polite reaction also destroys language. This isn’t merely a question of the prestige of the writing art or the credibility of the journalistic trade: it is about the basic survival of the public sphere.
• Donald Trump after hours: of all the other Trump-related writings from the past week, this is among the most fascinating (and the best written) – an account of a dinner with the President by TIME reporters Michael Scherer and Zeke J. Miller; great photos too by Benjamin Rasmussen.
• He was a crook: The Atlantic revisits Hunter S. Thompson’s glorious obit for Richard Nixon, originally published in Rolling Stone on 16 June 1994.
On Wednesday night BBC Two broadcast Rupert Goold’s film of King Charles III with a script by Mike Bartlett. It is on BBC iPlayer for the next four weeks, and if you watch nothing else in that time, make time for this. It’s a wonderful 90 minutes of beautifully achieved, bold, provocative, innovative, smartly subversive television, with a glorious performance from the late Tim Pigott-Smith at its heart. The plaudits have poured in, as I have little doubt they will continue to, and among the thoughtful press responses perhaps the most thoughtful is that by Mark Lawson for the Guardian. (Perhaps the most bizarre is ‘The BBC’s King Charles III inevitably contained plenty of howlers’ for – surprise! – the Mail, although treating the fantasy as a docu-drama is some kind of compliment.) Apart from expressing close-to-boundless enthusiasm for the film, I want here just to add a couple of thoughts about its status as television. read more »
BFI Southbank is midway through a season of the television plays of the radical writer Trevor Griffiths. Tuesday last featured the playwright reflecting on his career (and I was frustrated I couldn’t attend) but still to come are showings of:
Tonight, 18.20, 11 May: Through the Night – an exceptional 1975 BBC studio drama drawing on the experiences of Griffiths’ then-wife being diagnosed and treated for breast cancer, with a remarkable performance by Alison Steadman under Michael Lindsay-Hogg’s direction.
20.30, 16 May: Country (with Penelope Wilton, above) – perhaps Griffiths’ masterpiece, this is an extraordinary 1981 BBC film, directed by Richard Eyre, set in a country house at the end of World War Two as the Labour Party wins the election; it’s hard to argue with season organiser Marcus Prince’s assessment that this is ‘one of the greatest analyses of class power to grace our screens.
18.15, 23 May: Hope in the Year Two + Fall of Eagles: Absolute Beginners – in the former, filmed in 1994, Elijah Moshinsky directs Griffiths’ stalwart Jack Shepherd as French revolutionary figure George Danton; in the latter, the playwright dramatises the Bolshevik/Menshevik split during the Russian Revolution. read more »