Skip to main content

GLORIOUS 39. Dir Stephen Poliakoff. 2009

Image result for movie images of glorious 39 poliakoff


Glorious 39 strips away illusions. Poliakoff presents the apparent idyll of an English aristocratic family headed by genteel patriarch Lord Keyes (Bill Nighy). He presides over a country estate in Norfolk and his elegant townhouse in London – a world of golden light, romantic ruins, servants, house parties and happy children.

But this is 1939, a mere 21 years since the Great War, the war to end all wars, in which millions died, Britain was crippled with war debt, and the English country house system which he so values was almost annihilated. There are many references to the ancientness of his family and tradition, but now, few male servants remained alive or unmaimed to work the English landscape or to be in service to the old families.

Fearing domestic and political upheaval, appeasers such as Keyes sought to prevent Churchill leading the country and taking Britan to war, and to buy off Hitler to preserve British cultural and national identity. Nighty is excellent, controlled, benign. His wife (Jenny Agutter) has absented herself from the family into the garden and the other mother in the film is also virtually invisible. Strangely empty landscapes, buildings and houses add to the discomfort.

Romola Garai plays the much loved, dutiful, adopted daughter who carries the role of hostess with ease and grace, until she inadvertently discovers evidence of something underhand going on in her own home. This is Pandora’s Box; if only she had left the lid on her charmed life would have continued. She becomes alone and friendless, there is no-one she can trust, and the suspense is unrelenting.

Odd sequences with the eerie adolescent boy cause emotional unease which imply supernatural influences simply because he physically couldn’t move around from place to place, soundlessly, in the time allowed. Previously described as a Hitchcockian psychological thriller, events and coincidences are increasingly unnerving and there is always the feeling that the sinister Mr Balkam (Jeremy Northam) is always one step ahead of Anne. But, without Hitch’s touches of humour and romance, the maintained tension is quite hard to bear, at over two hours.

This is a visually rich film, with excellent performances throughout, marred slightly by an unnecessary framing device of a teenager going to visit elderly relatives and asking about the family history and, in particular, Anne (Garai). He needs to be in his forties or fifties for this device to make sense. However, plenty of menace and intrigue and shining a spotlight on the conspiracies at work at the beginning of World War II give much food for thought.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

OLD JOY. Dir Kelly Reichardt. 2005

Dropout Kurt arrives in town and calls up his old friend, earnest father-to-be Mark to suggest a camping trip out in the forest, away from the city. They haven’t seen each other for some time and the film suggests a desire for intimacy as well as a quest for peace. Something of a lost soul, Kurt is emotional and, at times, to be pitied. He lives outside society, in a world of new age type retreats and travels, which seem to have left him out on the margins. In contrast, Mark has a home and a pregnant partner, and tunes his car radio in to phone-ins with much loud chat about the state of society in America but he seems only half alive. They drive out of town, with the camera as passenger, which gazes out of the car window while a gorgeous soundtrack by Yo La Tengo sets a mellow mood. The use of extended silence makes me a little uneasy; it’s hard to get away from memories of Deliverance, and a sense of apprehension. In the city, the glass of the car windows insulates us...

Interior Life of an Estate Agent - part 17

Good Evening Mr Bond There are two couples to take round a little house on a new estate on the edge of town and I have strict instructions to make sure that the cat must not get out. I’m dreading this because I imagine a swift little beast slipping through our legs as soon as we open the front door. There’s no sign of it though and we all squeeze in, afraid to open the door wider than our sideways body widths, and close it with relief. Monsieur Chat peeps seductively round a door frame leading into the living room, delicately places a furry paw onto the hall carpet and sways towards us, allowing his body to brush lingeringly against the paintwork. Truly, this is Blofeldt’s cat. Condemned to a life indoors, his only pleasures are sensory. He is brushed, smoothed, fondled, and caressed. The world beyond the window; a world of territorial disputes, raking claws and screams in the night, is unknown to him. He slinks towards me, arching his back with pleasure and kinking his tail in...

Interior Life of an Estate Agent - part 18

You're not from round 'ere then? I am surrounded by delightful young families, happily retired couples, or contented empty nesters, enjoying their return to pre-children companionship and some freedom from parental responsibility, as well as a large number of women who have escaped their marriages and bought a dog, preferring long walks and book clubs. One of the imbalanced things about living in the west country, as with living in the farther reaches of Scotland, is that there is a surfeit of single women and a dearth of suitable single men. The men are wage slaves, and to be found in the south-east whereas women, on the whole, like a bit of a view. This must be the centrifugal effect, as though single women have been flung out from the frenzied middle of a dance, and have landed, like so many wallflowers on the hard chairs all around the dance hall. I can tell you; those chairs are hard; and sitting on them makes you invisible; not, however, to the sort of man who has an ...