Dir.
John Huston, US, 1987 (remastered 2006), 83 mins
Cast: Anjelica Huston, Donal McCann, Dan O'Herlihy, Donal
Donnelly
Review by Joyce Dundas
James Joyce's name carries the ultimate,
though unintentional, threat any writer could make; he has
written the unfilmable.
That said, no writer, nor lover, nor filmmaker, nor simply
human being, can watch the adaptation of his short story
The Dead and not say his writing can be filmed. Director
John Huston's legacy, starring Huston's daughter Anjlelica
and adapted from Joyce's story by his son Tony, is a masterpiece.
Huston pays tribute to Joyce – the ultimate master
of 'stream of consciousness' writing and one of the greatest
English language modernists – using the filmmaking
process and he makes a lyrical and beautiful homage to the
country of Ireland, and particularly its people, that they
both hail from.
Now, this will not make it into the
ultimate Christmas film list in many people's eyes – it
is not there with It's a Wonderful Life or Miracle on 34th
Street. No, this is a film about how difficult family dinners
can be at Christmas and the incredible memories, sometimes
dreadful emotions, that this most happy of times can dig
up, often from hidden places.
The Conroys' story is of course the one that would stop
even the happiest of Santa's elves in their tracks. Anjelica's
character, Gretta Conroy, is taken back to a moment of deep
regret in her younger past after an uncomfortable family
dinner, the dinner that should be the very icon of Christmas.
However iconic family Christmas may be though, it is Gretta's
experience as she is leaving, using the famous Irish catalyst
of a beautiful singing voice, that reminds her of a young
love. She tells her husband a deeply emotional, and incredibly
intimate, secret that she has never recovered from and there
is no doubt that it will change them forever. The maturity
of the acting from both leads here says it all without histrionics
or gesture.
No-one knows what will happen after the credits roll, but
as with all great films we can only imagine how this memory
will affect Christmas for all of them in the future.
From the words of Joyce himself: 'His soul swooned slowly
as he heard the snow falling faintly through the universe
and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end,
upon all the living and the dead.' It makes any writer cry
to think they might never be able to say anything on that
level. As part of the audience, don't feel embarrassed if
tissues are required.
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