Brit | Celine | House

A week of three films

Hi,

It’s been a little while since I typed anything. The last time I wrote, it was about Bridgerton and I was so shy about using the word ‘gyrate’ in a poem that I hid it behind a paywall.

But, this week I’ve had the fizzing for a few days and now I need to chuck some thoughts into this teal rectangle. Thanks for reading.

So, this week I’ve been watching a lot of TV of an eve. I’ve been overwhelmed and tired and a bit anxious so those hours after the kids’ bedtime have become very precious. I go through phases of wanting to watch light-hearted comedy one minute, then horror the next, and there is never any thought into what would be good for me to watch- always just following my feelings to whatever feels good. Maybe I should be beyond this at forty, but I’m not. Maybe I should dwell less on why I think and feel the things I do, but self-discovery and analysis is in the zeitgeist so there I am too! I think I’ll aim to consider my intake of media more carefully in my 50s.

Over four to five nights I have watched James Blunt’s documentary, Celine Dion’s documentary and Remi Weekes’ film ‘His House’. I’m going to write in order of feels, from least to most. But they all gave me feels, big time.

‘James Blunt: One Brit Wonder’

First up: James Blunt, ‘One Brit Wonder’. I knew that I’d be interested in this documentary because I remember semi-consciously absorbing the media’s horrible relationship with James. I ran alongside the majority: in love with ‘You’re beautiful’ (it’s true!), then curious about his background, then irritated by his silver spoon and plummy accent, until I laughed along at the cruel jokes and put downs that spilled through popular culture’s commentary on his career.

Actually, the cruelty became more than that. I missed how horrendously the headlines and late night sketch shows were treating him as a person. The documentary, directed by Chris Atkins, follows James and chats with him about his memories of those times. There is also footage of his time serving in the military in Kosovo. The third act of the documentary covers the more recent years: I was only half aware of how James Blunt managed to survive (I do mean that literally, he is clearly very strong to have coped with the abuse) and then turned his reputation around.

Whether or not you have followed his career or Twitter account, I’d recommend watching this documentary if you’ve ever hummed along to ‘a semi by the sea’ or ‘Simona’ (that’s for you, Heather!).

‘I | AM, Celine Dion’

I am a Celine Dion fan. If you are around my age and you didn’t cry or squeal over Leo and ‘My Heart Will Go On’ then I really don’t understand you and I’m not sure we’d get on. Sorry.

I thought that she was the most beautiful woman, had the most brilliant voice, and the fact that THAT song went hand in hand with the epitome of a straight 14 year old girl’s crush (it was more than just a little crush!), made her an obvious idol to me.

So, of course I was going to watch a documentary about her recent life and how she has learned to live with her diagnosis of Stiff Person Syndrome. It didn’t disappoint.

There is a warning at the start, that the film includes distressing images. This is very true. Near to the end of the film, cameras roll throughout an entire full body seizure that Celine suffers immediately after struggling through recording a song. It is harrowing. The director Irene Taylor and Celine Dion apparently decided that it was important to include this scene. I found it absolutely heart-breaking to watch (the intended response, I’m sure) but also felt that she must really want her fans to understand that she is suffering.

Without going off on too much of a tangent, I couldn’t help but compare Celine Dion’s film to the way that the Catherine, Princess of Wales has shared her cancer diagnosis. Unfair of me perhaps. Probably unfair. Sorry Kate. But, I have so much respect for women in the public eye who show themselves as humans, make up and upholstery-less; in tears of anger and sadness and without any attempt to pretend to be ‘normal’. In this film, Celine Dion doesn’t present herself as anything other than someone who has been exceptionally lucky in her career; someone who values possessions very highly (from paintings her children did as toddlers, to hundreds of pairs of designer shoes- all stored in a warehouse-madness); but also someone who lost the love of her life and now has a really terrifying illness that can’t be cured and has taken away her ability to sing as she used to. She is a mum, she is rich, she is WEIRD and she is ill. I think I would like her.

I don’t want to go on about it much more, but, if you do watch it, I think you’ll be left with a sense of hope and a life affirming glow. I can absolutely see that Celine Dion’s personality and music might not be everyone’s cup of tea, and I also get that it would be easy to criticise her for ‘moaning’ about hardships when she has so much money and success. To me, she seems warm, funny and someone who is lucky enough to be able to fight hard to keep doing what she loves.

This last image is from one of my favourite moments in the film. It is soooo cringe, I think I physically shivered at how genuine and candid she was in front of the camera. But at the same time as cringing, it was properly magical to see her letting the passion for singing back in, despite the fact that it had just that day caused her such pain and fear. What a woman.

‘His House’

Remi Weekes’ directorial debut (he won a BAFTA for Outstanding debut by a British director), a film based on a story by Felicity Evans and Tony Venables.

Netflix kindly recommended it to me, possibly because a few weeks ago I watched ‘Get Out’ (a horror comedy about a grotesquely racist community- one to watch with someone else).

Bol (Sope Dirisu) and Rial (Wunmi Mosaku) are refugees from South Sudan and they are placed in a spacious house on a run down estate. Matt Smith plays their case worker who is as clueless as any of us would be when faced with a couple who have experienced unimaginable horrors prior to fleeing the country.

The horror is dark. It appears, personified, in their new English surroundings, the peeling wallpaper of the house, Bol and Rial’s nightmares. Boundaries between night and day, past and present, real and imagined are blurred and seep into magical realism at times. There are jump scares, reveals and dislocated limbs twitching in ways they shouldn’t. But that isn’t what is scary about it at all. Nor is the question of sanity/ witches/ ghosts/ houses that are ‘wrong’. The scary thing is that the film feels real. Or at least it did to me.

Aaagh I had so much to say but now that I’m here, I can feel it all in the pit of my stomach but can’t find the words. You know when Ncuti Gatwat screamed at the racist civilisation in that social media-ey episode of Dr Who? I think it’s a bit like that. A horrible mix of frustration, fear and a lack of comprehension.

It is not an easy film to watch, but it is beautiful even in its trauma and pain. Mokasu and Dirisu are both stunningly lovely, and Matt Smith’s pale empathy is a perfect foil to Bol’s desperate desire to ‘settle’ and ‘fit in’.

‘We carry our ghosts with us. We can’t leave them behind.’

I don’t know. Coming up to the election. Living in the world we do in 2024 (‘His House’ came out in 2020.) It is a film that will make you think.

I have been very deeply affected by it, and despite my inability to explain why, I hope that this will at least persuade you to go and find it out of curiosity.

Rachael xx