As he sat in the seat next to me, S said “Good evening,” so I greeted him back, then asked what brought him to the film. He teaches BTEC media studies in college: he helps teenagers create. He is interested in the film as a film. So am I: I have read reviews saying it is exceptional, and it has a Best Picture Oscar nomination.
The one bit of technical jargon he told me after, when we went for a drink, was something like binary contrast, a dramatic tool. That is throughout in the film: you see the garden, and the walls of Auschwitz death camp, or from the house you see palls of smoke and even gouts of flame from chimneys. The garden is beautiful. There are long lingering shots of blooms. The film goes from Summer 1943 to Winter 1943/4: the war was lost in the East, with the Russians advancing, but the Nazi bureaucracy continues, and Frau Hoss talks of what she will do after the war. There will be no “Are we the baddies?” moment, only confusion and resentment.
There is one piece of unequivocal human decency in the whole film, which results in a casual murder. I found one incident completely repulsive near the start of the film, I wanted to escape, and all I could do was open to the horror. I feel horror, revulsion, disgust, and sit with these feelings, accepting them, appreciating the beauty. It is the most horrific film I have ever seen, yet it is 12A: the censor works with what is shown, not what is implied.
We both wanted to discuss the film, and I also spoke of how I became Quaker and what being Quaker means for me. After I said this, he told me of his friend who transitioned at University: it was the most important thing for her.
He observed that I pause to think before I speak. He values that. My longest pause: I was about to say “It is important that we know about these things, and remember” from a place of convention, and the fact that it is a convention, a commonplace, repelled me. I could not say it from that place. And, after such a visceral reminder of utter depravity, I did not want to be aware of the depths to which people can sink. And yet: I said almost the same phrase, from myself, from a place of conviction. This is what I believe. This is what I say, for myself.
I want to be aware of the heights we can reach, as well.
Simply as a film- direction, acting, sound, cinematography- it is a fine work of art, worth seeing for that. One man I know who loves film is excited to see it. One who hates cruelty would not go near it.
The waves come in with such force that tiny stones leap above the foam: not every wave, some of which are much more powerful than others. So photographing the phenomenon
involves running from waves,
though signs near the beach warn against this. The signs use such formal language! I would translate: Don’t go in the sea. No, really, just don’t. Hypothermia strikes quickly, and you might kill some hapless wannabe hero who tried to rescue you. Especially do not go in the sea if you are drunk or high. Don’t go in the sea. Don’t. I see two men with surfboards and wetsuits, and there are swimmers all year round.
I love the sea, and go to see and hear it most days.
Clare Flourish 