Reading Anthony Sattin’s book reminded me of this television drama from 1992 with the excellent Ralph Fiennes as T. E. Lawrence, otherwise known as Lawrence of Arabia. In this particular film, the drama revolves around the post- war peace conference in Paris where the victorious allies carved up the world. This was the stage on which Lawrence, acting as an adviser to Feisal, the would- be leader of a new Arab nation; one that they believed had been promised by Britain during the war in return for Arab support.
The Ottoman Empire collapsed and the spoils were there for the taking by Britain and France. Both countries wanted influence in the area and the claims of the Arab peoples, themselves, were forgotten.
Denis Quilley played Lord Curzon and Nicholas Jones played Lord Dyson. The fact that both key players on the British side were Lords says a lot about the times! Feisal was played by Anthony Siddig.
The film shows clearly the growing British exasperation with Lawrence, especially over what they see as his disloyalty, while Lawrence shows his contempt for duplicitous politicians. The peace conference is the perfect setting for the political manoeuvering of nations. It also shows how the establishment deals with outsiders.
At this stage of his life, Lawrence is famous. A stage show in London portrays him as a heroic figure in the Middle East. Whether the man himself is happy to be portrayed in this way is left open but the film does show that identity can be forced on people as well as embraced. By showing how awkward he is with women, the implication is that he prefers men for intimacy. I prefer Anthony Sattin’s conclusion that we do not have the evidence on which to conclude whether or not he was gay. I suppose in a way it proves its own point: identity can be forced upon people.
‘A Dangerous Man: Lawrence After Arabia’ is in my hinterland. What’s in yours?
I loved the major documentary history series that used to be broadcast by major television networks in the past. ‘The World at War’ on ITV in the 70s was the gold standard. The series, ‘The Cold War’, was produced by Jeremy Isaacs who was also the producer of ‘The World at War’. Broadcast on BBC Television in the late 90s, this series followed a similar format. People involved in the events being described relate the inside story of the Cold War.
Each of the twenty- four episodes covered a country or a theme over a span of several years with a broadly chronological progression from the end of the second world war to the start of the 90s and the collapse of the Soviet Union. Key players included former Presidents of both USA and USSR.
The reason these landmark series remain in my hinterland is because of their use of oral history. So many modern documentaries have historians as talking heads telling us how a person in the past was feeling at some significant moment. Here, at least, we have the real people talking. Important historians, such as Neal Acheson, are credited with writing particular episodes but all sides are given the space to speak.
Kenneth Branagh brings the same level of gravitas to the narration that Laurence Olivier did to ‘The World at War’. People who grew up, as I did, knowing there was this significant divide in the world were taken aback by the speed of the end of the Cold War. This series reminds us of how significant that divide was throughout the second half of the Twentieth Century and how clear it was to each side who the good guys were.
‘The Cold War’ is in my hinterland. What’s in yours?
This 1996 film from Czech film-maker Jan Sverak is a wonderful exploration of how a life can change and find meaning in an unexpected way. The director’s father Zdenek plays the central role of Louka, a dedicated bachelor who earns his living as a cellist, or struggles to by playing at funerals; his previous job with an orchestra was lost when he was considered to be politically unreliable. This is Czechoslovakia in the late 80s and, although the Soviet bloc is disintegrating, the regime is still a totalitarian one.
Louka struggles to make a living and agrees to marry a Russian woman for cash. Things go wrong when she uses her new citizenship status to esacpe to the West, leaving her five-year old son behind. The boy is the Kolya of the title.
The story is one of a growing bond between man and boy, despite the language difficulties and the other problems of an inexperienced bachelor trying to look after a young boy. What becomes clear, though, is the sense that both need each other. For Louka, in particular, the change to his life is positive; he finds purpose in the role of parent.
Towards the end of the film, the events of the late 80s in the Eastern bloc affect both man and boy. The ending plays cleverly on the idea of freedom and loss, for both individuals and groups.
The film is never sentimental but it is affecting. It is in my hinterland. What’s in yours?
This 1998 Canadian film tells the lives of people in five countries over four centuries who come into contact with the red violin of the title. The instrument was made in Italy in the seventeenth century. In this segment, the story is told in Italian of the violin maker and his wife and child. We find out why the violin is red, a particularly sad part of the film, before moving on a century to Vienna where we meet a young boy who is a musical prodigy. He is given the violin by the monks of the orphanage where he lives. He has a bright future and his music master sees a great future for them both. Another tragedy strikes, though, and the violin moves on to Oxford in Britain.
From Oxford in the late nineteenth century to Shanghai, China in the grip of the cultural revolution and on to Montreal, Canada in the late 90s, or what would have been the present at the time of the film’s release, we follow the violin as it passes from one owner to another.
What the film does, rather cleverly, is to show the importance of music in the lives of all sorts of people. Over the centuries, the violin becomes more valuable, especially as stories about its provenance emerge. The owners throughout its history see the instrument not as a valuable item in itself but essential because of what they create on it. In the final scenes in the auction house it seems as if this important message has been lost.
Episodic films can be problematic; if one segment is much weaker than the rest, the whole film is affected. In ‘The Red Violin’, though, each part of the story serves the greater narrative. It was directed by Francois Girard with a screenplay by Don McKellar. It is in my hinterland. What’s in yours?
I arrived at this book by a roundabout route. I heard the title first as a play being put on in London. I wanted to go to see it but couldn’t but I was interested in the subject matter and was keen to know more. I ordered the play script and read that first. At this point I discovered that the play was based on the book and, only then, did I get a copy and read it.
The book by Timothy Conigrave is a memoir of his life with his lover and long-term partner John Caleo. They met at secondary school in Melbourne, Australia. John was a talented football player and the title is a term from Australian rules football which refers to a fault which results in a penalty. It is an appropriate title since their love and happiness is affected when they are both diagnosed with HIV.
The book covers their story of meeting at school, falling in love, growing up and moving in together. It then details the lengths Tim goes to nurse John and keep him alive. This section of the book is the most harrowing since the end seems to be inevitable and the effect this has on two people who love each other deeply is hard to read. The final passages of the book when a bereaved Tim remembers his lover are the hardest of all.
Yet, this is also a book about the triumph of love. Love is where it falls. The couple do not have an easy time of it in a society which was often censorious about gay relationships.
John died in 1992 and three years later, just after finishing this book, Tim died. The book was turned into a play by Tommy Murphy. This was the play that I heard about and the start of the trail that led me to the book. I am so glad it did.
In London and visiting Soho so I went along to Carnaby Street were it meets Berwick Street to see the Soho Mural. This work of art dates back to the 90s but it was restored in 2006. It was created by community members who wanted to celebrate the district and its unique place in London history.
On the mural are people who lived, worked and played in Soho. The Chinese influence is recognised as are local venues such as the London Palladium and Ronnie Scott’s Jazz Club. Liberty’s distinctive Tudor style shop is also depicted. The dominant figure is Saint Anne; the local church is named after her. Her wide skirt forms the background on which the Soho personalities are painted. Karl Marx, Dylan Thomas, George Melly, Casanova and William Blake have all made it onto the mural.
The dogs and hares are there to remind us that this used to be a hunting area.
In London, so off to find a sculpture or statue that was new to me. Having tracked down a few works by Philip Jackson, I decided to look for his 1994 work of Mozart. It is in a part of London where Pimlico meets Belgravia in a small triangle sometimes referred to as Mozart’s Square or even Orange Square. It is actually where Ebury Street and Pimlico Road meet.
Philip Jackson’s bronze shows Mozart as an eight year old, the age he was when he lived on Ebury Street with his family. It was here that he wrote his first symphony in 1764. Being a fan of Philip Jackson’s sculpture, it was satisfying to find another.