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Terence Davies and the Paradoxes of Time
Wendy Everett

This article examines the paradoxes inherent in filmic time, with particular reference to the autobiographical work of the British director Terence Davies. Analysing ways in which film, itself constructed from still images, can create, reverse or freeze temporal flux, confuse and blend multiple and conflicting temporalities, and create the spatial dimensions of an ‘imaginary’ time, it argues that the relationship between film and music may well provide a fundamental key to the understanding of filmic time.

Film Studies
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Keith Beattie

the theme of everyday fortitude in the face of the Blitz are features of John Boorman’s Hope and Glory (1987). Boorman’s film, like Fires Were Started, ignores the war as a battle experience and concentrates on the nature of the home front in the East End during, and in response to, periods of aerial bombardment. As with Fires Were Started, Boorman’s film evokes the period in terms of extraordinary sights and defers to an image of the nation as both fractured by social differences yet unifiable in common feelings of good will. In a different way, Terence Davies’ The

in Humphrey Jennings
Creativity, experimentation and innovation
Paul Newland
and
Brian Hoyle

, Fassbinder, Schroeter and a host of others, but here it is quite likely you may not have heard of Peter Watkins, Bill Douglas, Robina Rose, Terence Davies, Chris Petit, Ron Peck – and forgive me if I include myself – who are their counterparts. 29 British art cinema: Creativity, experimentation and innovation largely agrees with the sentiments expressed by Anderson and Jarman. This book seeks to help redress the critical neglect of British art cinema by arguing that it is a highly significant strand of the nation’s film culture. But this has not

in British art cinema
John Hill

shift towards the financing of low-budget features such as Peter Smith’s A Private Enterprise (1974) dealing with Asians in England, David Gladwell’s elegiac Requiem for a Village (1974), Kevin Brownlow and Andrew Mollo’s historical drama Winstanley (1975), and Horace Ové’s pioneering Black film Pressure (1975). During this period the Board also supported the early work of both Bill Douglas ( My Childhood in 1972, My Ain Folk in 1973) and Terence Davies ( Children in 1976). According to Peter Sainsbury, Head of Production at the BFI from 1975 to 1985

in British art cinema
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Author:

This is the first book-length study of one of the most significant of all British television writers, Jimmy McGovern. The book provides comprehensive coverage of all his work for television including early writing on Brookside, major documentary dramas such as Hillsborough and Sunday and more recent series such as The Street and Accused.

Whilst the book is firmly focused on McGovern’s own work, the range of his output over the period in which he has been working also provides something of an overview of the radical changes in television drama commissioning that have taken place during this time. Without compromising his deeply-held convictions McGovern has managed to adapt to an ever changing environment, often using his position as a sought-after writer to defy industry trends.

The book also challenges the notion of McGovern as an uncomplicated social realist in stylistic terms. Looking particularly at his later work, a case is made for McGovern employing a greater range of narrative approaches, albeit subtly and within boundaries that allow him to continue to write for large popular audiences.

Finally it is worth pointing to the book’s examination of McGovern’s role in recent years as a mentor to new voices, frequently acting as a creative producer on series that he part-writes and part brings through different less-experienced names.

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Essays on cinema, anthropology and documentary filmmaking

The looking machine calls for the redemption of documentary cinema, exploring the potential and promise of the genre at a time when it appears under increasing threat from reality television, historical re-enactments, designer packaging and corporate authorship. The book consists of a set of essays, each focused on a particular theme derived from the author’s own experience as a filmmaker. It provides a practice-based, critical perspective on the history of documentary, how films evoke space, time and physical sensations, questions of aesthetics, and the intellectual and emotional relationships between filmmakers and their subjects. It is especially concerned with the potential of film to broaden the base of human knowledge, distinct from its expression in written texts. Among its underlying concerns are the political and ethical implications of how films are actually made, and the constraints that may prevent filmmakers from honestly showing what they have seen. While defending the importance of the documentary idea, MacDougall urges us to consider how the form can become a ‘cinema of consciousness’ that more accurately represents the sensory and everyday aspects of human life. Building on his experience bridging anthropology and cinema, he argues that this means resisting the inherent ethnocentrism of both our own society and the societies we film.

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Peter Marks

( Eureka ), Derek Jarman ( Caravaggio ), Terence Davies ( Distant Voices, Still Lives ) and Peter Greenaway ( The Belly of an Architect )’. 7 Gilliam’s American work in the 1990s, however, determines that he does appear in British Cinema of the 90s (2000). 8 The Companion to British and Irish Cinema (1996) lists Gilliam as an ‘American/British director’, along with Losey and Lester; Kubrick

in Terry Gilliam
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The biopic and the composed film in British art cinema
Brian Hoyle

clearly saw himself working within a British art cinema tradition, albeit a marginalised one. He saw himself struggling alongside fellow film-makers such as Peter Watkins, Bill Douglas, Terence Davies, Sally Potter and Ron Peck. He also spoke highly of the early films of Nicolas Roeg, John Boorman and Neil Jordan. 33 His favourites remained Ken Russell, of whom he wrote that ‘there was no better director to learn from’, 34 and, above all, Michael Powell, whose work he thought to be ‘unequalled’. 35 Their influence can also be clearly felt in Jarman’s work

in British art cinema
David Forrest

, Britain was operating ‘a fully-formed national art cinema comparable in some ways to the French New Wave of the 1960s and New German Cinema of the 1970s’. 14 British realist cinema has usually been understood within these paradigms only through its convergence with what Martin Hunt calls in his analysis of Terence Davies’ ‘social art cinema’. 15 Christopher Williams goes even further: the British, traditionally, had no art cinema, and later no specific equivalent of the European art cinema, no medium in which the leading issues of

in British art cinema
Ian Mackillop
and
Neil Sinyard

recovering something of the quality of the whole cinema-going experience in the 1950s, which, memory tells us, is so different from our present multiplex days. (As Terence Davies’s films lovingly show, there was still a magic and an innocence attached to the cinema in those days, which one can rediscover in reading through fan magazines and old film annuals: a reader wins 10 s 6 d from Picturegoer for observing that ‘no screen

in British cinema of the 1950s