Customer Reviews

Sunday, Bloody Sunday

5 star:		(8)
4 star:		(0)
3 star:		(1)
2 star:		(0)
1 star:		(0)

 

 

This civilized movie, of autumnal sadness, is such an actors' film.
Especially when those actors are Peter Finch and Glenda Jackson.
It is a pleasure to watch them at their craft. John Schlesinger has
directed Penelope Gilliatt's script with an eye for rich detail, and
such seemingly minimal emotions of the leads that comes through
the performances so perfectly, as delicately formed and precise as
snowflakes. They feel deeply, do Daniel (Finch) and Alex
(Jackson). Though they must not let on. It would be bad form to.

That they both love Bob (Murray Head) seems a conundrum. But
Daniel and Alex are of an age when there might be no one else,
save Bob, who is one of those curious, mercurial people who can
go from person to person, without caring one bit, beginning,
during, after. He literally feels nothing, save the rudimentary ( the
word is full of them) but he is perhaps seen by Daniel and Alex as
what they want him to be. Such is love. They recreate him from his

vagueness. And of course they must not be jealous of Bob's other
lovers. Such as Bob always require that, and consider otherwise to
be so bloody selfish.

He doesn't intentionally hurt anyone. He uses people as things, so,
to him, they are replaceable. When he is the replaceable one, if only
they could see it. He is not worth their integrity, and intelligence
and complexity of heart. Yet, when one loves, one cannot think of
him or her without making them, perhaps, mythic. To someone

else, they would be just another person, for others see them as
ordinary. This, the film explores with such finesse and grace.

Daniel has a monologue, told to us personally, the words of which
are beautiful and touching, that just about rips your heart out. Finch
adds to the words, so seemingly somewhat matter of factly saying
them, ( a person has to comport themselves properly after all)
though from deep inside, with such thought and honesty, and
searching still in these later years, and with no apology. You see the
worth and goodness of the man most especially then. You want to
put your arms around Daniel and Alex and hug them, for their love
is doomed, as they know too well. They are having to deal with the
loss, the void, to reconcile themselves to it, even during Bob, and
learning how to get through the day, routinely, like everyone else
pretends to.

"Sunday Bloody Sunday" is a film that one feels honored to see. Its
ad line-- "This is a story about three decent people. They will break
your heart." Indeed.

While I concur with many of the reviews posted here, there is not enough praise bestowed on the sublime Glenda Jackson, who remains the great lost actress of her generation. Though the recipient of two Oscars ("Women In Love", "A Touch of Class") and two other nominations ("Sunday.." and "Hedda"), as well as a criminal snub for the landmark "Stevie", Ms. Jackson seems to be little remembered today. It seems inconceivable now, since in the early Seventies, only Jane Fonda and Vanessa Redgrave could be considered her equals. For me, her Alex in "Sunday, Bloody Sunday" is my favorite of her rich performances. She is conflicted with her obviously unsatisfying affair with her bisexual (and, more importantly, shallow) lover, unfulfilled at her job, and basically adrift, just marking time in her life. The simple, yet powerfully suggestive emotions Jackson offers do much to help us identify strongly with her character. Who hasn't felt that, at times, their life is merely counting days, waiting for weekends which ironically do little to feed our spiritual or emotional needs? And the pattern continues, which to me is what the somewhat cryptic title implies. So much pressure is put on "the weekends" to make us happy that we can easily just wish our lives away, as Alex seems to. Its hard to find the final straw which Alex finds to salvage her life and begin again without this crippling relationship, but Jackson's brilliantly layered performance is a wonder throughout. Mr. Finch received many plaudits and is very respectable, but seems to be playing it safe here. His Dr. Hirsch is supposed to be the emotional, reasonable center of the movie, but Finch is a bit too reserved; the events don't seem to really happen to him at all. He stands curiously to the side, which may have been the author/director/actor's intent, but we don't have enough of the character's back-life for this to register. Murray Head is simply a cipher, which is all that is required, but a pleasant one. And any chance to see the divine Peggy Ashcroft and Bessie Love again is welcome.

When this movie first came out, it had that wonderful aura that many of the pictures of that era did: the essence of the forbidden--the promise that new and undiscovered worlds and situations would be examined that had never been dealt with in film before. I remember the same feeling accompanying "Cries and Whispers", "McCabe and Mrs. Miller", and "Women in Love", movies which have stood the test of time. "Sunday, Bloody Sunday", though not without its flaws, has also held up. Its a perfect time capsule of a certain period of time and change for working-class Londoners still woozy from the Sixties and not anywhere near ready for what would be the Eighties. Its also a remarkable document of a brilliant actress at the height of her estimable powers. Highly recommended.

One could take Penelope Gilliatt's script untouched, recast it with today's contemporary actors and make a film that would resonate as strongly today as it did forty years ago. Of course one would also need a superb master technician such as the late John Schlesinger and brilliant actors such as the late Peter Finch and Glenda Jackson to make it fly. Beautifully observed, incredibly witty at times and painful too. One of the most adult films of the 20th century and one of the most moving.This film is for anyone intelligent who has been in love and realized what a very lonely yet satisfying experience it can be.

This film follows the fascinating relationship between three Londoners--a 50 plus homosexual man, a 40ish straight woman, and the 20 something young man they are both in love with. The idea is a fascinating one, and the screenplay examines and analyses the nature and limitations of this kind of love.
It all sounds great, but there are definate problems in the execution. Firstly, the film is long and somewhat slow-moving, which is a fairly minor complaint. More importantly, the character with whom we are supposed to identify the most, and certainly the one with the most screen time, is Glenda Jackson's Alex, and she proves to be the most frustrating of the three. Her possessive need to have Bob to herself is understandable as a concept, but Jackson fails to make it seem reasonable, and the character comes accross as selfish, especially as Peter Finch's Daniel seems to pose very little threat, and to be able to subsist on only occasional visits from the beloved Bob. It's easy to see why Bob loves the older doctor, it is less apparant what he sees in Alex, who never seems to be much fun. She should be a little more likable if we are to be caught up in the film.

AH YES! All of the above is in this one - and what a cast!

PETER FINCH [possibly at his greatest - pre-'Network'] and GLENDA JACKSON. It's all very elegant, and quite upper-class.

The story? Written by PENELOPE GILLIATT [The New Yorker film critic] , it's about Alex [Jackson] as the vibrant divorcee, Daniel [Finch] the handsome, middle-aged professional bachelor with one common iterest - 'Bob' the young man who moves into their respective lives, all connected by a somewhat erratic telephone service. As the tag line states: "It's about three decenet people - they will break your heart". The dialogue is witty and wry - look for the party sequence with Peter Finch and a somewhat tipsy friend's wife - HIS comment as 'wife' disrobes ....... priceless.

FINCH is very moving in the closing monologue - as he concludes towards the end "we were something" all of this augmented with music by Mozart. Alonely life ......

It's actually post 'swinging London' but still quite contemporary - even in today's climate.

Companions? "Jules & Jim" and "Small Circle of Friends".

[Trivia? Danie Day-Lewis makes his debut in this film as one of the children. Finch and Jackson were previously teamed in the period "BEQUEST TO A NATION" with Margaret Leighton - another rare menage!]

This tale of an unconventional love triangle looks better and better three decades after its release. John Schlesinger's filming of Penelope Gilliatt's screenplay preserves the brilliant performances of Peter Finch and Glenda Jackson, as a man and a woman reluctantly sharing the affections of a another, younger man, Murray Head (whatever happened to him?). What continues to surprise and delight is, most of all, the quiet acknowledgment that different kinds of love can co-exist, each having its own validity, without angst, guilt or retribution. If anything, general cinema has moved backwards since this film in terms of portraying homosexuality and bisexuality in a mature, non-exploitive manner. Ultimately, it's the acting of Finch and Jackson that makes this film, making one regret more than ever their respective death and retirement--in particular, Finch's moving closing speech, made directly to the camera, remains a masterpiece of understated delivery.

Despite John Schlesinger's often ham-fisted and glitzy direction, Sunday Bloody Sunday remains a humane and triumphant celebration. The late film critic Penelope Gilliatt penned the screenplay about a straight/gay love triangle spanning three different generations in the twilight of "swinging" London. Glenda Jackson and Peter Finch are both magnificent and invest the edgy, hyperliterate dialogue with well-seasoned vitality; every minor character fits the milieu and the conception like a shadow fits a corner. This is a haunting, resonant movie, a hallmark 1971 film that was one of the first to treat "other"ways of loving -- or coping -- with respect, insight and a thoroughly adult point of view.

This movie depicts one week out of the lives of three lovers trapped in an unique triangle. It provides an honest look into the unfair and often dissapointing trials that occur in relationships. A work that leaves you analyzing up until the very last line.

The film is quite dreary - a man trying to decide if wants to poke or be poked. But the location shots are suberb. Part of it is filmed in Pembroke Square, London W8, a gorgeous and very bohemian part of London. Definitely the place to be, live or be seen, or at the very least - have seen.
Watch the film for the background footage alone - and don't pay too much attention to the ins and outs of the story - if you see what I mean.