Don't mention the war
Nov. 27th, 2024 03:24 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shewhomustThe BBC has been holding a Powell & Pressburger season. We started off ten days ago with I Know Where I'm Going!, which, inexplicably, I had never previously seen. Since then I have going round in circles with this post, with the not-exactly-help of a charming half hour of I Know Where I'm Going: 50 years on (making it in turn 30 years old); Made in England, a More recent documentary in which Martin Scorsese holds forth for over two hours (with plenty of film clips); and a random article in the Guardian, by Pamela Hutchinson of I Know Where I'm Going! as the first in a series about 'my feelgood movie'.
I begin to think that I must have a heart of stone: I always find Archers films interesting, and visually ravishing, but I would never describe them as 'feelgood': there's always something a bit unsettling about them. In the case of I Know Where I'm Going!, this starts with the title. That exclamation mark comes and goes: but it appears in the opening credits of the film itself, and it completely undermines the title. "I know where I'm going!" says Joan. That emphasis just invites contradiction, and the film supplies it, demonstrating that she doesn't know where she''s going, and she doesn't know who's going with her, either.
I was left unmoved by the romance: I didn't entirely believe in it, and I note that it is presented as the fulfilment of a curse. Joan and Torquil set aside the obstacles between them, but those obstacles are never dissolved, they still exist: Joan may be able to break her engagement to another man, but can she set aside her desire for what he can give her? I was rooting for Torquil to marry Catriona: it's obviously not going to happen, but she's clearly in love with him, and in more senses than one they speak the same language.
Whereas Joan - oh, wait, this is comedy, isn't it? The preamble which introduces us to Joan as writing a letter asking Santa for silk stockings, the ambiguous scene with her father: she breezes into what appears to be a night club and flirts with - is he "Daddy" or a sugar daddy? He offers her advice as her bank manager: but it's all right, he really is her father - though he is offered no part in the wedding to which she is travelling.) The childhood home looks comfortable, she eventually gets her (artificial) silk stockings, she attends a grammar school, her father is a bank manager, there's no suggestion that her desire for material things stems from any sort of privation (I have more sympathy for Rose in I Capture the Castle, say). No doubt I am taking too seriously what is intended to make me laugh: that happens quite often. But later, when but she persuades young Kenny to risk both their lives sailing to the Kiloran in bad weather: I know she is desperate to get away, I know she is ignorant of the risk, but it remains a monstrous piece of selfishness, and I can't unsee that.
In her defense, she seems almost a victim of her own materialism. Her dreams on the sleeper train to Scotland are full of the symbols of wealth (the train chimney is also a top hat) but they are not happy dreams. When Torquil tells her that the islanders are not poor, they just don't deal much in money, she doesn't understand: isn't this the same thing? Cynically, the Laird might well deny that his tenants are poor: but Torquil has a point. There is salmon to eat, if you catch it, and rabbit if you shoot it; there is music if you make it (or can persuade the wonderful Glasgow Orpheus Choir to make it for you)... There's also something that the film doesn't mention, and I think its silence on the subject must be deliberate: it was made at a time when the entire country was facing a shortage of material things. I Know Where I'm Going! offers an escape to a magical island, and it isn't about to sabotage that by reminding its audience that there's a war on (is it ever mentioned?) and that clothing is rationed (and will remain so until 1949). I'd love to think that in reminding us that there are things more important than money, it foreshadows the Welfare State and the creation of the NHS: but perhaps that is too romantic.
Joan travels alone, but Torquil is surrounded by people, embedded in society. He knows everyone, from Ruairidh Mhór the boatman (Finlay Currie) to the genteel Mrs. Crozier (Nancy Price), reminiscing about the dances of the past. I was delighted by Petula Clarke's bespectacled teenager, nose in a book but not missing a thing (well, of course I was), though possibly this was not intended: she is, after all, the daughter of the repellent Robinsons. Mostly though, the minor characters, the ceilidh, are not only a delight to watch, they represent the enchantment of the Hebrides, and even Joan is susceptible to this. Part of the attractioh of her rich fiancé is that he owns an island, to which she is summoned to be married: as soon as she learns that the island is only leased, the marriage is doomed. Torquil not only owns Kiloran, he is Kiloran, and that's how the local people address him. It's ironic, then, that Roger Livesey, who plays Torquil, did not film on Mull: he was committed to a West End theatre at the time, and a body double was used for any scenes he could not film in the studio. The magic of the movies trumps the enchantment of the isles. But then, that's what I've been saying all along ...
This illustrated location guide tells me that the islands are geographically more accurate than I first thought: Mull is genuinely Mill, Moy Castle is Moy Castle, and the Western Isles Hotel is the Western Isles Hotel (though in fact I knew that, having stayed at the Park Lodge Hotel next door). The name Kiloran is taken from a location on Colonsay, and it is Colonsay that stands in for the distant views of Kiloran, sometines with the help of a little extra paint. The map tells me that sailing from Mull to Colonsay, even in bad weather, you'd have to make an effort to tangle with Corryvreckan, but it isn't completely in the wrong direction. Which is all you can ask.
I don't have a tisy conclusion. Just one more link, a very good summary from Screen Argyll.
I begin to think that I must have a heart of stone: I always find Archers films interesting, and visually ravishing, but I would never describe them as 'feelgood': there's always something a bit unsettling about them. In the case of I Know Where I'm Going!, this starts with the title. That exclamation mark comes and goes: but it appears in the opening credits of the film itself, and it completely undermines the title. "I know where I'm going!" says Joan. That emphasis just invites contradiction, and the film supplies it, demonstrating that she doesn't know where she''s going, and she doesn't know who's going with her, either.
I was left unmoved by the romance: I didn't entirely believe in it, and I note that it is presented as the fulfilment of a curse. Joan and Torquil set aside the obstacles between them, but those obstacles are never dissolved, they still exist: Joan may be able to break her engagement to another man, but can she set aside her desire for what he can give her? I was rooting for Torquil to marry Catriona: it's obviously not going to happen, but she's clearly in love with him, and in more senses than one they speak the same language.
Whereas Joan - oh, wait, this is comedy, isn't it? The preamble which introduces us to Joan as writing a letter asking Santa for silk stockings, the ambiguous scene with her father: she breezes into what appears to be a night club and flirts with - is he "Daddy" or a sugar daddy? He offers her advice as her bank manager: but it's all right, he really is her father - though he is offered no part in the wedding to which she is travelling.) The childhood home looks comfortable, she eventually gets her (artificial) silk stockings, she attends a grammar school, her father is a bank manager, there's no suggestion that her desire for material things stems from any sort of privation (I have more sympathy for Rose in I Capture the Castle, say). No doubt I am taking too seriously what is intended to make me laugh: that happens quite often. But later, when but she persuades young Kenny to risk both their lives sailing to the Kiloran in bad weather: I know she is desperate to get away, I know she is ignorant of the risk, but it remains a monstrous piece of selfishness, and I can't unsee that.
In her defense, she seems almost a victim of her own materialism. Her dreams on the sleeper train to Scotland are full of the symbols of wealth (the train chimney is also a top hat) but they are not happy dreams. When Torquil tells her that the islanders are not poor, they just don't deal much in money, she doesn't understand: isn't this the same thing? Cynically, the Laird might well deny that his tenants are poor: but Torquil has a point. There is salmon to eat, if you catch it, and rabbit if you shoot it; there is music if you make it (or can persuade the wonderful Glasgow Orpheus Choir to make it for you)... There's also something that the film doesn't mention, and I think its silence on the subject must be deliberate: it was made at a time when the entire country was facing a shortage of material things. I Know Where I'm Going! offers an escape to a magical island, and it isn't about to sabotage that by reminding its audience that there's a war on (is it ever mentioned?) and that clothing is rationed (and will remain so until 1949). I'd love to think that in reminding us that there are things more important than money, it foreshadows the Welfare State and the creation of the NHS: but perhaps that is too romantic.
Joan travels alone, but Torquil is surrounded by people, embedded in society. He knows everyone, from Ruairidh Mhór the boatman (Finlay Currie) to the genteel Mrs. Crozier (Nancy Price), reminiscing about the dances of the past. I was delighted by Petula Clarke's bespectacled teenager, nose in a book but not missing a thing (well, of course I was), though possibly this was not intended: she is, after all, the daughter of the repellent Robinsons. Mostly though, the minor characters, the ceilidh, are not only a delight to watch, they represent the enchantment of the Hebrides, and even Joan is susceptible to this. Part of the attractioh of her rich fiancé is that he owns an island, to which she is summoned to be married: as soon as she learns that the island is only leased, the marriage is doomed. Torquil not only owns Kiloran, he is Kiloran, and that's how the local people address him. It's ironic, then, that Roger Livesey, who plays Torquil, did not film on Mull: he was committed to a West End theatre at the time, and a body double was used for any scenes he could not film in the studio. The magic of the movies trumps the enchantment of the isles. But then, that's what I've been saying all along ...
This illustrated location guide tells me that the islands are geographically more accurate than I first thought: Mull is genuinely Mill, Moy Castle is Moy Castle, and the Western Isles Hotel is the Western Isles Hotel (though in fact I knew that, having stayed at the Park Lodge Hotel next door). The name Kiloran is taken from a location on Colonsay, and it is Colonsay that stands in for the distant views of Kiloran, sometines with the help of a little extra paint. The map tells me that sailing from Mull to Colonsay, even in bad weather, you'd have to make an effort to tangle with Corryvreckan, but it isn't completely in the wrong direction. Which is all you can ask.
I don't have a tisy conclusion. Just one more link, a very good summary from Screen Argyll.
