Part nostalgia, part nightmare, the autobiographical DISTANT VOICES, STILL LIVES is writer-director Terence Davies's bittersweet look back at his working-class upbringing in postwar Liverpool. While it's beautifully photographed, Davies's portrait of a house divided by a near-psychotic
father (Pete Postlethwaite)--loving one moment, brutal the next--is not a pretty sight. All of the familial warts and blemishes are visible as Davies avoids any romanticizing of the past whatsoever. In this highly stylized, cinematic portrait of his family, there is no enhancement, no glitz, not
even much of a plot. Rather, Davies leaves us with a series of impressions, presented non-chronologically, that evoke memories of his basically repressive Catholic childhood in the 1950s.
Told in flashback, the film begins and ends with family weddings held several years apart as the grown children reflect on their father and his mostly negative influence upon their lives. Despite Davies' often harsh, brutal focus, this is no gloom-and-doom period piece. Remarkably, all his
sensitively drawn, subtle observations coalesce, forming an emotionally compelling whole that visually and vividly recalls a traditional way of life. Static as their lives may be, his people are never dull. In this very personal portrait, Davies, the artist, has re-created universal
experiences--familiar passions and needs--that draw us to his family's humanity. leave a comment