Tag Archives: Jamie Parker

Film Review: 1917 and the Theatre of War

1917 Film

When the hundred year commemorations concluded in November 2018, you may have thought that interest in the First World War would wane. There are fads and fashions in historical study as there are in culture, but Britain has never escaped the emotional shadow of a conflict that combined new weapons with a vast loss of life, a mechanisation of mass death fought simultaneously for the first time on land, sea and in the sky. Yet, despite its scale and with experience of the conflict now beyond living memory, our connection to the Great War continues to be a very personal one. Sam Mendes’s new film 1917 is famously based on the stories told to him by his grandfather to whom the film is dedicated, and while clearly a passion project for the director, it is also a revelatory combination of cinematic and theatrical techniques that offer one of the most accurate depictions of the First World War on screen.

1917 and The Modern War Movie

The war movie has notably changed in recent years with films like Saul Dibb’s Journey’s End and Christopher Nolan’s Dunkirk challenging the cliches of the genre. While the latter offered a more immersive experience, unfolding in real-time to submerge the audience in the strained tension and ongoing danger of servicemen’s experience, Dibb’s film based on R.C. Sherriff’s famous play, played down the pity and disillusion so prevalent in First World War movies to show men hardened and exhausted by their experience, living from day to day but able to suppress their emotional reactions in order to carry on, giving a different kind of psychological poignancy to this well-known work.

The newly ennobled Mendes combines the two here but also offers something entirely new by breaking out of the trenches to create a more inclusive picture of the scope and scale of the war effort. Regardless of its setting, 1917 is essentially a journey narrative, taking two characters from one place to another, drawing its interest from their various encounters, perils and obstacles to overcome on the way. Structurally then, Mendes film is first and foremost drawing on tropes from work as diverse as Saving Private Ryan, Slow West and even Lord of the Rings, all of which use a journey to drive the narrative forward and sew a series of disparate encounters together.

But 1917 also remains recognisably and completely a war film, creating moments of high stakes tension that brilliantly imagine the landscape of the First World War, with all the elements you want to see – trenches, No Man’s Land, shattered trees, shell craters, dugouts and bombardments – but none of this is presented in the way you expect. What Mendes does is to extract the weighty emotionalism from these symbols of the conflict by making them feel everyday, there are no lingering shots of the many dead bodies (people, horses and dogs) littering battlefields, rivers and buildings, the giant rats or shattered townscapes or the misery of the men in the Front Line. All of these things are there but not the focus, instead the camera follows the protagonists on their mission travelling through a terrain which by this point in the war is entirely normal to them. Through the one shot (or “no cuts” as Mendes prefers) technique, the audience experiences the film as Lance Corporals Schofield and Blake do, death, decay and destruction are just part of what they see, with little sensationalism or sentimentality for the most part, and these innovative approaches make it unlike any war film you have ever seen.

Theatre Influences

One of the most intriguing aspects of 1917 is just how much of it draws on the techniques of theatre and Mendes vast experience in the West End without feeling “stagey.” As a theatre director, Mendes’s work in recent years has been remarkable, imagining events on an epic scale but balancing that with the intimacy of human relationships across generations. Mendes doesn’t so much as director as conduct plays, most notably in The Ferryman where the flow of information from multiple characters and perspectives felt like segments of music softly rising and falling as different sections of the orchestra were given precedence. The same was true of the more dramatically satisfying The Lehman Trilogy that took a cast of just three and told a family story of American finance over more than a century.

Here in 1917, Mendes achieves the same effect and while the thriller-like narrative arc with ticking clock helps the audience to experience the fears, determination and emotions of the lead characters, Mendes also renders the entire war in microcosm, representing on the one hand the wider picture of a conflict occurring right across the landscape of France that somehow makes reference to all the previous years of battle and credibly places these men in this moment, but also demonstrates the wider system of war including aerial reconaissance, snipers, transport trucks and medical facilities behind the lines. And even more extraordinarily, Mendes’s story unfolds as a  single journey through the process of war itself, from hopeful preparation to minor skirmishes, ultimate battle and the casualty clearing station where one way or another it all ends. It is that balancing of scale and intimacy influenced by Mendes’s theatre work that makes this film such a rich and fulfilling experience.

The no cuts approach also demands theatre-like performances from the cast and, in a Q&A that accompanied a preview of the film last week, George MacKay, Dean-Charles Chapman and Mendes discussed the extensive rehearsal period and the challenge of lengthy takes. The longest sequence in the middle of the film lasts eight and half minutes (you’ll never see the joins), a feat the actors had to perform in its entirety tens of times and constantly at the mercy of faulty props, mistakes and camera issues that required an entire reset – hence the slightly exaggerated story in the media mis-attributing errors in a scene to Andrew Scott that required 56 takes. Nonetheless, the process Mendes employed here to elicit performances from his actors is a theatrical one with long sequences of dialogue exchange and movement that required an intuitive relationship with the camera more akin to NT Live than standard film-making as the actors eschew the choreography of rigid shots and reaction moments to move more freely through the landscape of the film with the camera responding to them.

The performances are presented with the same kind of normality as the context, with Mendes insisting on a more realistic everyman feel to the leads rather than action superheroes. Mackay as Schofield is particularly good at the heart of the film, a solid soldier, whose rationality and grounded response to the issues that arise is sympathetically played and the audience wills his success at every moment. Chapman’s Blake is more hot-headed, driven by the chance to save his brother and more likely to charge into danger without thinking, which makes them an interesting and suitably antagonistic pairing who find a deep but unsentimental comradeship, one that isn’t constantly reacting to the horrors around them but bent solely on their mission.

The film is also full of understated but wonderful cameos from a host of theatre stars, introduced unceremoniously and woven tightly into the story to give momentary but superb performances that add a Waiting for Godot quality as the protagonists encounter a variety of different groups. Andrew Scott (Present Laughter; Hamlet) is outstanding as a weary and cynical Lieutenant, an equally impressive Mark Strong (A View From the Bridge) brings a heartfelt gravitas to his scenes as Captain Smith, blink and you’ll almost miss the wonderful Jamie Parker (High Society; Henry V), Adrian Scarborough (Exit the King; Don Juan in Soho) and Richard McCabe (Imperium), while Benedict Cumberbatch (Hamlet; Frankenstein) and Richard Madden (Romeo and Juliet) are crucial to the film’s final moments. 1917 is then the fascinating application of theatre techniques to a film that evolves into something entirely of its own, offering a new perspective on a familiar era.

The Reality of War

Yet, as a fictionalised story Mendes has clearly stated that dramatic licence, compressing events and experiences, is necessary to make 1917 cinematic, but he is overmodest in playing-down the vision of war he has created, which is one of the most realistic and inclusive dramatisations of 1914-1918 that we’ve seen. A lot of time in the First World War was spent waiting or moving, with the bombardment and slaughters of No Man’s Land far from a daily feature. By opening-out the world of the film and leaving the individual dugout, Mendes, really for the first time, shows the much larger system of war operation – often wider than the individual soldier could see – where different types of landscape existed, and as we follow Schofield and Blake through rivers, woods and fields, passed farmhouses and through artillery-battered towns, our understanding of the wide-ranging effect on Northern France is enlarged.

The balance between the famous mechanisation of the Great War and of the natural world is a crucial one, thematic almost, and Mendes is careful to walk the characters through the different types of terrain where fighting took place while emphasising the power of nature to eventually renew and restore. So as our soldiers leave the devastated and familiarly churned earth of No Man’s Land, explore a German trench and make their way through an artillery graveyard filled with shells and damaged guns, they emerge into places that are greener and, while perilous, accurately reflect the contrasting worlds of conflict and pseudo-reality which men experienced. Mendes uses these to explore the periods of intense drama in which the pair must overcome various obstacles interleaved with relatively long sequences of calm, comradeship and near normality that accurately reflect servicemen’s descriptions of combat.

This broadening-out of our perspective of war extends to the representation of other services as well. Often the one thing missing from almost every First World War film are the aeroplanes, the existence of the Royal Flying Corps who flew reconnaissance missions across the battlefield from the very beginning appear in 1917 exactly as they should. And not only does photographic aerial intelligence rightly become the springboard for the story, but aeroplanes are seen overhead, including a crash that nods to Hitchcock’s North By Northwest (no spoiler, it’s in the trailer). The date – 6 April 1917 –  reflects a period in which Germany was launching a large scale attack by its dangerous Albatros fighting squadrons that would wreak havoc for British pilots devastated by the “Bloody April” onslaught that started a few days after the events of the film. Including these snippets gives context to Schofield and Blake’s assignment, while recognising the vital role that all services played in the wider system of war in which these two men are simultaneously a tiny and vital part.

No Cuts Drama

Mendes spoke at the Q&A of the difficulty of creating tension with no cuts and where a director would normally rely on camera angles, shots and positioning to visually manage audience reactions, the complex simplicity of the film’s style meant music, sound and cinematography were vital to creating the changing mood. Thomas Newman’s developing score is crucial to the shape and evolving style of the movie, using plenty of low ominous beats to reflect the characters’ nervousness or fear in confined spaces while building to swelling – and more typically – classic crescendos in the final section of the film. But Newman also chooses near silence for poignant moments as the world pauses to absorb what happened. Look out too for a melancholic song performed in the woods and a very brief instance of birdsong, one of the sounds most meaningfully associated with war.

Occasionally the dialogue, co-written by Mendes and Krysty Wilson-Cairns is a little clunky or over-sentimental with some emphasis on the futility of war, but Roger Deakins cinematography is exemplary, particularly the night scenes filled with fire and shadow that has an extraordinary visual beauty and Mendes notes a deliberate mythic quality to this section of the story. Mendes and Deakins previously worked together on Skyfall – easily the most aethetically arresting Bond film – and there are strong parallels here with both the continuing use of shadow as well as the Bond film’s final sequence in the Scottish highlands where a fascination with the effects of coloured smoke, silhouette and light strikingly draw the two films together.

1917 is then one of the most interesting, realistic and complete impressions of the First World War on film. It takes the attributes of the World War One movie, combines them with the tricks of the thriller and borrows a sense of purpose and drive from journey narratives to create something entirely new. By drawing on the directional and writing techniques of theatre Mendes creates an engaging and multi-faceted movie that opens-out the meaning and experience of the First World War. It is never less than a fascinating technical and story-telling exercise that pushes the boundaries of innovative film-making while following the quietly heroic story of brave men doing their jobs in a conflict that remains an ever-present and meaningful part of Britian’s modern history.

1917 is in cinemas now. Follow this blog on Twitter @culturalcap1 or Facebook: Cultural Capital Theatre Blog 

High Society – Old Vic

In Kevin Spacey’s first season as Artistic Director of the Old Vic he staged The Philadelphia Story starring himself and Jennifer Ehle, so it is perhaps appropriate that the musical version of this tale, High Society, should now book-end his reign. And it seems that ending will be a triumphant one in a dazzling and fizzy revival of the much loved film. I don’t often write about musicals here and I tend to have mixed feelings about them; in general preferring the classics to a more modern tendency to string a load of pop songs together around a half-baked story.

For years I just didn’t see any musicals at all and there still exists a certain snobbery about them as not ‘proper’ theatre, whatever that is supposed to mean. As a critic, the quality of theatre I see can range from breath-takingly stunning to offensively bad, and a musical is no more likely to be poorly produced and performed than a Shakespeare play – and in fact the lowest star ratings I’ve ever given are for terrible interpretations of Shakespeare, while recent revivals of Spend, Spend, Spend, The Dreaming and the West End transfer of Memphis have been a delight. High Society may be all about snobbery but that should not apply to the genre itself – yes there are bad musicals but there are also a lot of bad plays, believe me I’ve seen them!

So, I’m going to put my hat into the ring now and say I actually like some musicals and I’m not ashamed. I’ve seen the stalwarts like Phantom of the Opera, Les Miserables, Blood Brothers and Hairspray and loved them all, which doesn’t mean I can’t simultaneously appreciate a fine Hamlet or go to see the recent A View from the Bridge 3 times between the Young Vic and Wyndhams because it was so wonderful, it’s just one of those contradictions about people that life is full of. It probably all began watching the big 50s and 60s musicals as a child with my Nan of which Singing in the Rain and My Fair Lady were our favourite. For some reason High Society rather passed us by but then she never really cared for Frank Sinatra.

So with lots of positive reviews and a chance to see it in the round, the Old Vic’s new show promised much. On the eve of her second wedding to a very dull man Tracy Lord has doubts exacerbated by the sudden appearance of her neighbour and ex-husband C K Dexter Haven who is also still in love with her. Their dilemma is diverted by the appearance of two undercover society journalists who are blackmailing Tracy’s father to get access to the wedding or they will publish a compromising story about him and a dancer. As the pre-wedding party gets underway Tracy finds herself drawn to journalist Mike, but is he just a passing fancy because she can’t have the man she really wants? As dawn breaks after a drunken evening just who will Tracy walk down the aisle with?

The Old Vic round space is always something to marvel at; built above the stalls seats to create a more intimate space and now wherever you sit in the theatre the view is pretty impressive. You arrive to find a glitzy party going on with a piano player Joe Stilgoe taking requests and on our night somehow merging Rule Britannia, Strangers in the Night and The Wheels on the Bus into one musical piece. By the time the show starts the pre-warmed audience is already in a jovial party mood, aided by the art-deco influenced side boxes which hold the orchestra and the clever pop-up set by Tom Pye which allows tables, chairs and pianos to rise and lower into the floor. When empty it looks like the intricate Time Lord-like design of the pocket watch carried by Dr Who in the David Tennant era.

The set pieces are rather impressive, the best of which is the party scene at the start of Act 2 which unites singing, dancing, piano playing and some amazing costumes to create a throbbing atmosphere of sound and colour, just right for Tracy’s last hurrah before marriage. Maria Friedman’s direction here is perfect and even if they didn’t bother with the rest of the story you’d go home feeling you’d seen some of the best dance sequences in town. Whatever you may think of Tracy by this point she can clearly throw a hell of a party and the cast are obviously having a wonderful time. But that same verve and style is brought to the rest of the scenes, creating the Lord’s outside breakfast table with real hot plate, drawing room and swimming pool. In fact the pool is the scene of the show’s most tender moment as Tracy at her lowest ebb sails a little boat across the brilliantly projected water while she and Dexter sing True Love, before the waters rise up over her.

The cast is excellent and Kate Fleetwood, who previously made a superb Lady Macbeth opposite Patrick Stewart, takes most of the honours as the contradictory Tracy. She starts waspish and self-satisfied before realising the gravity of what she’s about to do, cutting herself off from Dexter for ever, but revives as drink gives her a flirtatious bravado and a fantastic chemistry with Jamie Parker playing the journalist Mike. Parker is the main reason I wanted to see this, after a brilliant Henry V at the Globe a couple of years ago, and in the Sinatra role here proves he can do everything, bringing great energy and fine voice to the scenes. It helps of course that because of Sinatra his role gets most of the best songs – Who Wants to Be a Millionaire and You’re Sensational as well as the ensemble tunes Well Did You Evah? And Let’s Misbehave. I could never quite see why Tracy didn’t pick Mike, they always seemed so much more suited, and that is certainly reinforced by Fleetwood and Parker’s charismatic partnership.

The problem here is the character of Dexter – Rupert Young is arguably a better singer that actor but the part itself always feels very underwritten. He spars with Tracy nicely early on and their love song is a tender moment but for much of the production he is just an observer watching it all happen, so it’s hard to believe in them as a couple. Her family clearly adore him but the audience don’t get a chance to know him as well as the fun-loving Mike whose prejudices are shown to thaw in the company of the partying Lords. This is not at all the fault of the production but perhaps this is why my Nan overlooked it, it just has a slightly unsatisfactory happy ending that you can’t quite believe in. And I remember feeling the same about The Philadelphia Story here several years ago.

None of that detracts from a fine night of entertainment with great supporting performances in the subplots from Barbara Flynn as Mother Lord, Ellie Bamber as Dinah, Christopher Ravenscroft as Seth Lord and Annabel Scholey as photographer Liz Imbrie. Maria Friedman has created quite a spectacle down at the Old Vic and from the beginning establishes an atmosphere that engages the audience in the celebratory feel of the whole thing, no matter where you sit in the auditorium. For once sitting in the slips in the Lilian Bayliss circle (very top) pays off and for just £16 you get a great view of the marvellous choreography without having to spend a fortune. Through the Lord’s soiree, you’re also there to celebrate the final moments of Kevin Spacey’s decade as Artistic Director and this bubbly production of High Society will ensure he leaves a memorable legacy. So forget the musicals stigma and come on down; it really is quite a party.

High Society is at the Old Vic until 22 August, tickets start at £16 and I can recommend these cheap slips seats in Row X of the Lilian Baylis Circle for actually a very good view. Other concessions are available including reduced prices for under 25 year olds. Follow this blog on Twitter: @culturalcap1

%d bloggers like this: