Ooh Mulholland Drive - I love that film.  It may well be considered steamy by some people but there are much steamier films out there.  I loved it because it has an atmosphere that just stays with you for weeks afterwards, it's very dark and mysterious.

I watched it around the same time that I watched Memento, another jigsaw puzzle of a film that I enjoyed very much and would highly recommend.  It's about an amnesiac so they've done the story in snippets that go backwards chronologically.  Apparently you can get a bonus CD with a version just going forwards but it'd be sacrilege to watch that, and kind of missing the point I think.  Well worth a watch. 

This posting is meant to complement the obituaries for Alexander Solzhenitsyn (AS) but it is really about the extraordinary circumstances in which the film version of "One Day In The Life Of Ivan Denisovich "(One Day) was released in 1971, after six years of sheer dedication to get it set-up and made.   This was due to a long term collaboration between director, Caspar Wrede and writer Ronald Harwood.    Wrede was born in Finland.  In the early 50s, having served as a boy-soldier in the Finnish army, he arrived in England and studied for the theatre under Michel Saint-Denis at the Old Vic School.  By 1964 he was at the forefront of television as a director and, in 1959, I well remember my early days in London when I made regular visits to the Lyric Theatre (the old theatre) at Hammersmith where Wrede's production of plays by Buchner, Moliere, Strindberg drew the town; in particular his production of "Brand" with Patrick McGoohan remained a theatrical landmark in the second half of the last century.

Ronald Harwood arrived from Cape Town, in 1951, to study drama as an actor at Royal Academy of Dramatic Art.   Eight years later, he wrote a play, "The Barber of Stamford Hill" for TV, submitted it to Wrede and their collaboration began.   "Private Potter" followed and they selected a young actor from RADA, Tom Courtenay, for the leading role.   Unusually, "Barber of Stamford Hill" and "Private Potter" both made it to the big screen by British Lion and MGM.    Wrede adds,  "Both films were well received by the critics and both disappeared, more or less, without trace."

In 1964, Wrede discussed a film treatment for "One Day" with Harwood and, this morning, I managed to retrieve a copy of the screenplay from the heights at
 the top of my bookshelves where it has been for rather a long time.    Harwood wrote a most eloquent introduction to 'The Making of One Day...' which reminded me that he has successfully managed to write several plays before cleverly adapting them for the screen.      As a youngster, he was a member of Sir Donald Wolfit's touring company and his keen eye retained his experiences which later became "The Dresser"; again as a play, initially, then as a film with Albert Finney and Tom Courtenay as his dresser.   A few weeks ago, I saw the film version of "Taking Sides" on BBC 2 which examined the moral ambiguity of Wilhelm Furtwangler's alleged collaboration in the Nazi era.   In this case, I prefer the stage version where Michael Pennington was magnificent.

Harwood wrote:

     'The Making of One Day...' began in 1964; it took six years to complete from the first enthusiasm to the final frame.   ASs name was not celebrated as it is today, and it would need no great seer to predict that, from the movie industry's point of view, his first novel lacked, to say the least, a certain glamorous appeal.   Presumably, the Motion Picture Studios' reports on the subject would have contained a resume as follow:
       
         Set in Siberia, in Soviet prison camp.   Lots of snow.  Lots of long Russian names.
         No women.  No escapes.  No violence.  Would have to be 'opened up'.
         Must change title.  CONCLUSION: Depressing.  Dismal locale.
         RECOMMENDATION:  Not for us.

Undeterred, Wrede persisted.   Courtenay became an international star and expressed his willingness to come-on-board for a deferred fee, sometimes known as 'working for nothing'.    In 1968, Wrede visited Scandanavia to discover whether 'One Day..' was a viable co-production.   He had the special ingredients of a novel, a screenwriter, a star, and subsequently, a partner in Norskfilm who could provide studio and the locations, albeit in sub-zero temperatures, in Norway.     He was left with the basic problem of liquidity and, in due course, he found the financial backing with Group W Films in New York (The Westinghouse Broadcasting Corporation).   The icing on the cake followed when ace lighting cameraman, Sven Nykvist - Ingmar Bergman's cameraman - joined the crew.

Filming commenced in 1970.    Ronald Harwood writes:

        "We were charged, therefore, with creating an understanding of one man's existence,
        one man's fate, so that a cinema audience could feel for him and with him, and at the
        same time grasp the enormity of the background, which was the herding together of
        people in great numbers, with the result that one ceased to think of them as
        human beings.   This, we had heard, endorsed Solzhenitsyn's belief that the problem
        he dealt with in 'One Day..' was not specifically Soviet, but a universal dilemma, and
        the main one of our time.   At its crudest, we understood this to mean any system
        which, wittingly or unwittingly, causes human beings to be divided into people,
        individuals on the one hand, and things, objects, animals, sewage on the other."

In the earlier discussions on the screenplay, Wrede used the tactic of translating from a Finnish version which, his instinct told him, was closest to the feeling of the Russian original.    In due course, Wrede commissioned Gillion Aitken whose work on Pushkin he admired, with the translation into English.

The film got a limited release in 1971 and I eventually saw it at the NFT.   It would be good to see it again.

I'm rushing to conclude as Radio 3 has changed its schedule and "One Day..." will be discussed at 22.45, this evening.   I trust that Wrede's fine  film version will be included.
       

Just been watching what I taped on Sky+ last night. The 40th Anniversary of Dad's Army. What a great comedy serioes that was. Still worth watching today. Has'nt dated at all. Anyway, one of the episodes they showed was one of Captain Mainwaring, falling for this widow. The part of this episode, seem to be a take off that classic film 'Brief Encounter'.

Brief Encounter must've been the all time greats.

  Carnforth station (on the Leeds/Settle/Carlisle line) was the setting for "Brief Encounter" (1945), although the station was called Milford Junction in Noel Coward's screenplay.    The merits of the film have already been covered on these boards and TOP.   A real classic should never be forgotten.   However, I wonder how many people saw "Return to Carnforth" which BBC2 showed, early in the afternoon, perhaps 5/7 years ago.  It was a gem at 15 mins and I'm glad I recorded it as some "suits" decided to edit it before it was shown again.   Orson Welles complained about the 'studio janitor' gaining access to his rough cut of 'The Magnificent Ambersons' (1942)!       

Ben Fogle revisits the refurbished Carnforth station and it was touching to see Margaret Barton who played the pert young lass in the station buffet, determined to emulate manageress, Mrs Baggot; the superb Joyce Carey.   She was prim and genteel and rebuked ticket collector, Stanley Holloway, for flirting with her and upsetting her buffet display of fancy cakes.    "Look what you've done.   M' banbury's are all over the floor!"     These and other scenes are interspersed throughout the feature.     An 'extra' in the film remembers where her 'marks' were on the main platform but the real joy is to hear the footplate fireman recall his favourite, in the cast, Celia Johnson.   She would walk down the length of the platform to say 'Good evening, gentlemen' to the driver and fireman each night.    "Me, a gentleman!"    He thought that Trevor Howard was a bit reserved.   "Perhaps I shouldn't say this - and its only a personal opinion"; looking around like a self-conscious Frankie Howerd; "but he was... ALOOF."     So genuine and sweet.

The film ends by identifying the location for the bridge on which Trevor Howard and Celia Johnson stood in silent contemplation.     The only howler was when Margaret Barton said that the film couldn't be remade.  It was, disastrously, with Richard Burton and Sophia Loren in 1975; a TV film by ITC.   Perhaps Ms Barton was right, after all.         
 

I'll risk revealing a hitherto concealed anorak status by reminding Stanley that Carnforth isn't on the Settle and Carlisle at all, but the WCML (West Coast Main Line) north of Lancaster, where it forms the junction for Barrow (in Furness) and the Cumberland Coast line via Whitehaven to Carlisle. The station building still stands, and they've even recreated the Refreshment Rooms as a tourist attraction, but relatively few trains stop there now: Mr Branson's Pendolini glide through at high speed on their way from Euston to Glasgow Central, and some of the X-Country voyagers: the only scheduled trains are the local chuggers, and most visitors come by road.

[Now corrected. Thank you, Stanley!]

 Thanks pim. Is there any film or book (in English ) on the subject of the German occupation that you could recommend? Why would Jews be any better off in Belgium?
 I do very much agree with you about "Memento". My wife and I came away saying that if it been played as normal few would have given it the time of day.
 Stanley, I read , perhaps either here or TOP, that Ms Johnson would never be interviewed about "BE". Any idea if she was just sick of the subject or were there "deeper" reasons. (You are ,of course,You are the font of all wisdom. ) I see that according to "Lust, Caution" Brief Encounter was shown in Hong Kong three years before it was made!

#  116       Hi, Ted.     Although I'm supposed to be doing lots of other things, I decided to have a quick shufti at Kate Fleming's 1992 biography of her mother, Celia Johnson.     Yes, you're right, two hours later I was still engrossed.

I only knew the Dame on a casual basis after an earlier introduction.   She was always relaxed and if you spoke, you got her attention.   However, I knew Ralph Richardson rather better and, in 1982, took the opportunity to nip backstage - hoping for a lift back to town - when he was touring with Celia Johnson at the Richmond Theatre (Surrey), prior to the Strand Theatre in the West End.     "Hallo, old cock," said Sir Ralph, "what do you think about our chances in-town?"      I was certainly aware that Celia, like another Home counties actress, Wendy Hiller, would only consider a six month run.  Finis.    I remember that CJ looked tired and I was quite shocked when told that she'd died, suddenly, only a few weeks later.

CJ was a home lover: she married writer Peter Fleming (brother of Ian) in 1935, and she shared a close relationship with him and their family.  He died in 1971.   So the trappings of celebrity; interviews and publicity, had little appeal for her. There was no question of a biography and this had to wait until 1991, when her daughter, Kate, did her proud.   I see that a sticker on the bookjacket says, 'As serialised on Woman's Hour. '  A shrewd touch as this must have moved lots of copies from bookshops.    It is unlikely that she would have excluded discussion of "Brief Encounter" in any interview; instead she   probably suggested that her much wider career was likely to be more interesting.   She'd had a good working relationship with director, David Lean, on "In Which We Serve" and played the suburban housewife in "This Happy Breed" with distinction.

Initially, she dreaded night location work at Carnforth as the winter of 1944/45 was particularly severe, hindering the Allies spearhead advance in Europe but, as a schoolboy, I remember many happy hours on my sledge at the time.    She was happily accommodated at a hotel, overlooking Windermere, and the era of rationing was a little more liberal than in Oxfordshire.   Husband, Peter, was on military service in India, so her spare time was devoted to correspondence, generously quoted in the biography.   She even charmed the notoriously grumpy station master at Carnforth into inviting her to share his coal fire office.    In one of her letters, she writes about the unexpected feeling of ensemble between cast and crew.    She was constantly worried whether her performance was good enough.    Kate Fleming nailed her qualities:

                 "David Lean has always given Celia credit for the success of the film.
                 Her acting throughout has great truth and subtlety.   Her thin old-
                 fashioned upper-class voice speaking Coward's clipped dialogue, so easy
                 to imitate, is outweighed by her acting; the feeling she conveys transcends those
                 now ridiculous very English tones.   There is a moment when she has to begin to
                 tell lies about what she has been doing, when deception comes into her life;
                 she looks at herself in the mirror, and it is clear from her look that she has never told
                 a lie before in her life - a simple point but so difficult to express.   On another occasion
                 she decides, just as the train that she is on is pulling out of the station, to keep
                 an assignation with Dr Harvey (Trevor Howard) after all, in a flat that he has
                 borrowed, an assignation bound to consummate their affair; she distractedly jumps
                 from the train, runs down the platform, stops, collects herself, starts walking
                 and then breaks into a run.   She did this sequence of movements on her own initiative
                 and David Lean thought it was marvellous; by rushing, trying to walk and starting
                 to rush again, she so clearly showed all her fears, hopes, excitement and worries.
                 He congratulated her and asked, 'Why did you do that?'    'What?'  she said.
                 He explained and she said, 'Well, she would, wouldn't she?'

                 I was tempted to compare Celia Johnson's theatre work but this belongs on another
                 thread which remains verboten to me for some time.      Honest, injun!