FILMS. 4th EDItION DEAD OF NIGHT placed, contributes to the final effect: a rare depth of poignancy, all DEAD OF NIGHT the more moving for being so quietly expressed When he made The Dead Huston was himself dying, and knew it UK,1945 Suffering from terminal emphysema, he directed from a wheelchair, hooked up to an oxygen cylinder. He had hoped to make the film in Directors: Alberto Cavalcanti, Charles Crichton, Basil Dearden Ireland, as a farewell to the country where he had lived for twenty Robert hamer years and whose citizenship he'd taken, but it proved impractical nstead, a wintry Dublin was convincingly recreated in a warehouse Production: A Michael Balcon Production for Ealing Studios: filmed in Valencia, north of Los Angeles, with a second unit sent to Ireland to as a set of five stories, with a linking narrative directed by Dearden pick up location shots. Much of the time, constrictions of space made from a story by E. F. Benson:"Christmas Party"(director: Cavalcanti, it impossible for Huston to be on set with the actors, and he directed from a story by Angus Macphail),""Hearse Drivers"(director: via a TV monitor. None of these limitations shows in the film, which Dearden, from a story by E. F. Benson), "The Haunted Mirror feels effortlessly relaxed and natural (director: Hamer, from a story by John V. Baines), Golfing Story Throughout the long party sequence that takes up the first hour of (director: Crichton, from a story by H G. Wells),"The Ventriloquist the film, Hustons camera roams around the various groupings Dummy(director: Cavalcanti, from a story by John V. Baines) picking up snatches of conversation, conveying unspoken nuances in black and white; running time: 102 minutes. Released Septem a gesture or a glance. Matters of politics and religion are touched on. ber 1945 Ivors, mocks the hostesses'nephew, Gabriel Conroy, for being Producer: Michael Balcon; associate producers: Sidney Cole, John a"West Briton"who neglects Irish culture, and Aunt Kate tactfully Croydon; screenplay: John V Baines, Angus Macphail; additional efers to the Protestant Mr. Browne as being"of the other persua- dialogue: T. E. B. Clarke, photography: Stan Pavey, Douglas ion. The scapegrace Freddy Malins arrives tipsy, to the alarm of his Slocombe: editor: Charles Hasse: art director: Michael Relph; music: Georges Auric mother who anxiously steers him away from further boozing. Mary Jane plays a showy piece on the piano; older guests listen politely while the younger ones escape to the drinks table in the next room Cast: Linking narrative: Mervyn Johns(Walter Craig): Renee Gadd (Mrs. Craig): Roland Culver(Eliot Foley); Mary Merrall (Mrs. The cast, all Irish except Anjelica Huston(who, having grown up in Foley): Frederick Valk(Dr. van Straaten): Barbara Leake(Mrs Ireland, fits in seamlessly)and many of them from the Abbey Theatre O'Hara)."Christmas Party": Sally Ann Howes(Sally O'Hara): company, give a note-perfect display of ensemble acting. Gradually, beneath the light comedy, more sombre themes emerge The older, frailer sister, Miss Julia, is persuaded to sing a Bellini aria; her quavery voice suggests this will be the last year she'll be there to sing it. Talk turns to lost glories of the past, to friends now dead, to ks who sleep in their coffins as a reminder of "their last end And alongside these intimations of mortality comes the idea of a love bsolute and all-consuming when one of the guests recites an old Irish poem, the sole notable element in the film not drawn from Joyce's original: " You have taken the East and the West from me, you have taken the sun and the moon from me .. During this, Gabriel casts a glance at his wife Gretta(Huston) who is listening, rapt. This brief shot foreshadows the turning moment of the film. The party is breaking up, Gabriel and Gretta are on their way downstairs when from above comes the voice of a tenor singing a melancholy old llad, "The Lass of Aughrim. Gretta stops on the stair, transfixed, her whole posture suggesting a sorrow long held within her like an unborn child. At the hotel she tells gabriel how the song was once sung by a gentle boy who died-perhaps for love of her. She weeps herself to sleep, while Gabriel gloomily reflects how prosaic, by comparison, is his love for her, how poor a part I've played in her fe. He muses on the dead boy, on his aunt soon to die, on others departed, and as the snow swirls outside the window, his voice-over thoughts ease into the words that end Joyce's story: "Snow is general over Ireland.. falling faintly through the universe, and fa falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead, John Hustons last film, an elegy for Ireland and for himself,FILMS, 4 DEAD OF NIGHT th EDITION 297 placed, contributes to the final effect: a rare depth of poignancy, all the more moving for being so quietly expressed. When he made The Dead Huston was himself dying, and knew it. Suffering from terminal emphysema, he directed from a wheelchair, hooked up to an oxygen cylinder. He had hoped to make the film in Ireland, as a farewell to the country where he had lived for twenty years and whose citizenship he’d taken, but it proved impractical. Instead, a wintry Dublin was convincingly recreated in a warehouse in Valencia, north of Los Angeles, with a second unit sent to Ireland to pick up location shots. Much of the time, constrictions of space made it impossible for Huston to be on set with the actors, and he directed via a TV monitor. None of these limitations shows in the film, which feels effortlessly relaxed and natural. Throughout the long party sequence that takes up the first hour of the film, Huston’s camera roams around the various groupings, picking up snatches of conversation, conveying unspoken nuances in a gesture or a glance. Matters of politics and religion are touched on, sketching in a sense of the period: an assertive young woman, Molly Ivors, mocks the hostesses’ nephew, Gabriel Conroy, for being a ‘‘West Briton’’ who neglects Irish culture, and Aunt Kate tactfully refers to the Protestant Mr. Browne as being ‘‘of the other persua￾sion.’’ The scapegrace Freddy Malins arrives tipsy, to the alarm of his mother who anxiously steers him away from further boozing. Mary Jane plays a showy piece on the piano; older guests listen politely while the younger ones escape to the drinks table in the next room. The cast, all Irish except Anjelica Huston (who, having grown up in Ireland, fits in seamlessly) and many of them from the Abbey Theatre company, give a note-perfect display of ensemble acting. Gradually, beneath the light comedy, more sombre themes emerge. The older, frailer sister, Miss Julia, is persuaded to sing a Bellini aria; her quavery voice suggests this will be the last year she’ll be there to sing it. Talk turns to lost glories of the past, to friends now dead, to monks who sleep in their coffins as a reminder of ‘‘their last end.’’ And alongside these intimations of mortality comes the idea of a love absolute and all-consuming when one of the guests recites an old Irish poem, the sole notable element in the film not drawn from Joyce’s original: ‘‘You have taken the East and the West from me, you have taken the sun and the moon from me. . . .’’ During this, Gabriel casts a glance at his wife Gretta (Huston) who is listening, rapt. This brief shot foreshadows the turning moment of the film. The party is breaking up, Gabriel and Gretta are on their way downstairs, when from above comes the voice of a tenor singing a melancholy old ballad, ‘‘The Lass of Aughrim.’’ Gretta stops on the stair, transfixed, her whole posture suggesting a sorrow long held within her like an unborn child. At the hotel she tells Gabriel how the song was once sung by a gentle boy who died—perhaps for love of her. She weeps herself to sleep, while Gabriel gloomily reflects how prosaic, by comparison, is his love for her, ‘‘how poor a part I’ve played in her life.’’ He muses on the dead boy, on his aunt soon to die, on others departed, and as the snow swirls outside the window, his voice-over thoughts ease into the words that end Joyce’s story: ‘‘Snow is general all over Ireland. . . falling faintly through the universe, and faintly falling, like the descent of their last end, upon all the living and the dead.’’ John Huston’s last film, an elegy for Ireland and for himself, closes on a grace-note at once regretful and reconciled. —Philip Kemp DEAD OF NIGHT UK, 1945 Directors: Alberto Cavalcanti, Charles Crichton, Basil Dearden, Robert Hamer Production: A Michael Balcon Production for Ealing Studios; filmed as a set of five stories, with a linking narrative directed by Dearden from a story by E. F. Benson: ‘‘Christmas Party’’ (director: Cavalcanti, from a story by Angus Macphail), ‘‘Hearse Drivers’’ (director: Dearden, from a story by E. F. Benson), ‘‘The Haunted Mirror’’ (director: Hamer, from a story by John V. Baines), ‘‘Golfing Story’’ (director: Crichton, from a story by H. G. Wells), ‘‘The Ventriloquist Dummy’’ (director: Cavalcanti, from a story by John V. Baines); black and white; running time: 102 minutes. Released Septem￾ber 1945. Producer: Michael Balcon; associate producers: Sidney Cole, John Croydon; screenplay: John V. Baines, Angus Macphail; additional dialogue: T. E. B. Clarke; photography: Stan Pavey, Douglas Slocombe; editor: Charles Hasse; art director: Michael Relph; music: Georges Auric. Cast: Linking narrative: Mervyn Johns (Walter Craig); Renee Gadd (Mrs. Craig); Roland Culver (Eliot Foley); Mary Merrall (Mrs. Foley); Frederick Valk (Dr. van Straaten); Barbara Leake (Mrs. O’Hara). ‘‘Christmas Party’’: Sally Ann Howes (Sally O’Hara); Dead of Night