Distant Voices, Still Lives

In an interview, Terence Davis has stated that he had to tone down the reality of the story because as depressing as the film is, the "real thing" would be unendurable for audiences. We have all seen rage on the screen. Brando, De Niro, and Pesci, have had their moments, but the two actors who truly frightened me, and left me literally trembling, were Temuera Morrison, as the Maori father in "Once Were Warriors", a film from New Zealand, and Peter Postlethwaite, as the father in "Distant Voices". These actors hit something visceral in me, that my therapists never even guessed at. Fear of the father? Living with a man (my dad, so consumed with anger at a world that never had a truly happy day for him) who could only vent his rage at his family? Who knows, and at the age of 68, who the hell cares. Besides, Postlethwaites (I'm sure this name kept him out of the "bigtime" for many years, a little shobiz humor folks) acting honors go to the mother, Freda Dowie. She's on Masterpiece Theatre a lot and she's either mentally ill, or like this woman, a battered housewife trying to keep her kids and herself alive. Happiness or even a nice day is not on her agenda. Just trying to get through poverty, and not having her jaw broken by her husband is a happy day to her. If you like exploding autos, and thong draped anorexic Barbie dolls, this movie is not for you. But if you want to see a work of art carved out of Davis' agony, see this movie. Oh yes, I remember he said in an interview on NPR, that he couldn't remember his father ever touching him, or saying a kind word to him.

It's difficult to say exactly what this luminous masterpiece is about. It's a memoir of sorts but a highly stylized one where memories are re-experienced and conveyed through songs, frequently communally sung; painful familial interactions powerfully shot as if the scenes were paintings or sets on a stage. This formal approach resonates simultaneously with richness and alienation, pathos and ecstasy. Difficult to shake.

Not at all what I expected and there's certainly nothing quite like it anywhere in the history of cinema. Powerfully acted and masterfully directed: One of the great works of British movie-making.

I also highly recommend Davies' two other great works: "The Long Day Closes" and the recent, made for Showtime movie starring an amazing Gillian Anderson, "The House of Mirth." I personally didn't care that much for "The Neon Bible."

Pete posthlewaite hits a performance that is so unique it is frightening. so true was the passion there where times in the movie when I wished he would die! The episodic and random nature of the flashbacks made it seem like memories from one's own childhood which reinforced the naturalistic acting and indeed made it almost voyeuristic! The true beauty of the film lies in the realism of the scenes and in the accurate depiction of life as it really is in all it's ugliness! Above all the movie said to me that out of "brutallity" can come "compassion and humanity". One scene really hits home is the Christmas scene where the camera pans up an idyllic British street where the Christmas lights are shining and by nature our faces are starting to smile and then dissolves into the living room where the family are sitting in expectation. You can feel the tension as you see the first shot and when he pulls the tablecloth off the table and shouts "CLEAN THIS UP",I remember jumping up!!! MASTERPIECE In my eyes yes! 10 OUT OF 10

This film grows on you - the first time I saw it, it was rather bleak and just a bit boring.

However, the more you think about it and if you were lucky enough to record it and watch it again, it slowly but surely turns into a masterpiece.

The characters, the setting, the atmosphere is true England - England which has all but disappeared. This film is so unique it deserves a place up there with the likes of Citizen Kane, Pelle The Conqueror etc. etc.

Don´t miss it!!!

This is an important film and evidently is regarded as such by many serious reviewers, so I watched it and found it sometimes very hard to sit through because it struck more than a few painful chords in my own memory of my family when I was growing up in the 40s and 50s. Indeed.

My continuing impression is that men of that era, not only in the UK and US as well as elsewhere, were really almost clinically unreflective in that they were so used to being tolerated and getting away with murder that they were nearly incapable of seeing themselves in anything resembling a true light.

How women both sustained family life by themselves and because of their friendships with other women belies the fact that they felt powerless to change anything for the better, at least for more than five minutes.

My fantasy is that it would be great for a lot of men of my generation (now 70) to be tied down with their mouths taped and their eyes propped open with toothpicks, if need be, and forced to watch this movie about forty times! Since that's not going to happen, all I can do is recommend that the peers of my generation at least consider watching it. It can only do us good!

Peter