“My sight seems to have closed in. The hospital is even quieter this morning. Hushed. I have a sinking feeling in my stomach. I feel defeated. My mind bright as a button but my body falling apart - a naked light bulb in a dark and ruined room. There is death in the air here but we are not talking about it. "
The film opens. An English man slowly speaks in prose. I am staring at a plain blue screen. I soon realize this will be the film. The film will continue to be this for one hour and sixteen minutes. I will stare at an unwavering blue screen and listen to poetry for one hour and sixteen minutes. I am ready to hate this film, if it can even be called that.
But, I know a little bit about the context for this film. This isn’t just anyone speaking. This is Derek Jarman, an iconic and influential queer artist and director. He contracted AIDS and this was his final feature film, reflecting on his illness and inevitable death. He died four months after this film was released. During the making of the film, his illness rendered him partially blind, only able to see in shades of blue. This little bit of prior knowledge and understanding greatly alters the watching/listening experience. Suddenly, I find myself latching on to phrases I hear. I jot a few down.
My vision will never come back. The retina is destroyed. I have to come to terms with sightlessness. If i I lose half my sight, will my vision be halved? The virus rages fierce. I have no friends who are not dead or dying. Like a blue frost. I shall not win the battle against the virus, despite the slogans like “living with AIDS.”
This isn’t quite a film. At least, not in the classical sense. It is poetry aided by a “soundscape,” cloaked in the omnipresent blue screen. It takes patience, but sometimes it really grabs you. I experienced goosebumps several times. It’s eerie to listen to a man speak of his upcoming death, knowing he died 4 months later. It’s emotional to understand the historical context. More than 700,000 people have died from AIDS since the beginning of the epidemic. Jarman says he has no friends who are not dead or dying, and he soon joins the dying. It sounds like something out of a horror movie.
I was struck by a comment I read on the Kanopy link. It reads:
“I was living in London and had seen all of Jarman’s movies. When this came out I cried like a fountain in the cinema. However, I doubt it would retain the same power today, especially on a small, individual screen. Back then, fresh after his death, the large blue screen and the voice-over created a sense of community.”
This made a lot of sense. Watching this film in the midst of the AIDS epidemic and being personally invested in Jarman would make this film very different to watch. I reflected on the idea of seeing this in a theater as well; being submissive to the almost-oppressive blue screen and being surrounded by Jarman’s voice and soundscape. If a director or artist that I was deeply invested in came out with a film like this, I would definitely be sobbing in a theater too.
Overall, I think understanding the context of the time and the context of this man’s life greatly enhances and deepens the viewing experience, but regardless of that, this is an intimate window into a dying man’s life filled with beautiful and haunting self-reflection that has the power to touch any viewer.
Film, Gender, Sexuality 