John Huston's final film THE DEAD from 1987, details with loving attention to detail a Christmas dinner at the house of two spinster well-to-do sisters and their niece in turn-of-the-century Ireland, attended by
friends and family. Among the visiting attendees are the sisters' nephew
Gabriel Conroy and his wife Greta. The evening's reminiscences bring
up melancholy memories for Greta concerning her first, long-lost love
when she was a girl in rural Galway. Her recounting of this tragic love
to Gabriel brings him to an epiphany: he learns how little he knows about his wife whom he loves dearly.
"Think of all those who ever were, back to the start of time. And me,
transient as they, flickering out as well into their grey world ... Snow is falling. Falling in that
lonely churchyard where Michael Furey lies buried. Falling faintly
through the universe and faintly falling, like the descent of their last
end, upon all the living, and the dead".
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I was obsessed about Huston's THE MISFITS for a long time, I love his HEAVEN KNOWS MR ALLISON (Huston label) and those subsequent films THE UNFORGIVEN, NIGHT OF THE IGUANA, FAT CITY and of course his '40s triumphs like THE MALTESE FALCON and his early '50s oddities like THE ASPHALT JUNGLE, MOULIN ROUGE and MOBY DICK. Huston was such a maverick that his later oddities like THE KREMLIN LETTER in '69 are also worth seeking out. It was great to see him in person for the launch of FAT CITY at the NFT in 1972. THE DEAD set as it is on the 6th of January, is an ideal film for this time of year ...
As my friend Martin Bradley sets the scene: THE DEAD takes place on the Feast of
the Epiphany in the Dublin of 1904. It is confined, largely, to one
setting, the home of the Morkan sisters, and not a great deal happens
in conventional 'dramatic' terms. They entertain their guests; there is
singing, dancing, recitations and much small talk but watching this
film you can't imagine anywhere else you would rather be than in this
company.
Finally, of course, it is 'about' much, much more. It is about love,
loss and regret, those stable mainstays of great drama. In the film's
closing scenes the tenor Bartell D'Arcy (Frank Patterson) sings a
song, 'The Lass of Aughrim' which conjures up in the mind of Gretta
(Anjelica Huston) wife of Gabriel (Donal McCann) the ghost of her
first and probably greatest love, a boy who died in all certainty of a
broken heart at the age of seventeen, and suddenly Gabriel realises he
has never really known his wife and that he has not been the great love
of her life after all. Emotionally, these scenes are incredibly
powerful, firstly as Gretta recounts the circumstances of her lover's
death and then as the voice in Gabriel's head sums up his own feelings.
This is great cinema, the monologues superbly delivered by Huston and
McCann.
But then all the performances are extraordinary. This is ensemble
playing of the highest order. Added poignancy is to be had, of
course, from the knowledge that Huston himself was close to death when
he made this film which seems to me the culmination of his life's work.
Death may well be its central theme but viewing this film is a
life-enhancing experience.
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