28.12.23
Distant Voices, Still Lives showcases the talent of the late Terence Davies at his most autobiographical and personal. It’s a delicately composed and poetic film which chronicles the closing of chapters and the opening of others in a Catholic working-class family in Liverpool. Ruled over by a terrifying patriarch, played by the brilliant Pete Postlethwaite, he gives an impressive performance as a violent man most likely suffering from mental anguish, yet still capable of love and tenderness.
There is a powerful sense of place, as the same rooms and spaces bear witness to key moments in the lives of families, such as weddings, funerals and baptisms. Perhaps in 1988, audiences could more easily relate to the extended scenes of familial pub singalongs reminiscent of the postwar era. It’s only partially meaningful to me, but more so to my 78-year-old father who joined me to watch most of this film over the Christmas period. Still, it’s very impressive how Davies holds the audience’s attention with these songs alone, which convey a multitude of emotions and meanings in their lyrics.
While not as visually dreamlike or vivid as Davies’ masterwork Of Time and the City, Distant Voices, Still Lives possesses a unique beauty all its own 35 years later. The artistry and wrenching sadness are undiminished by time. My dad questioned the title of the film and he was right, as there is nothing distant or still about this film. Through his personal lens and reminiscent, moving style, Davies has crafted a small but powerful Liverpudlian family saga.