Focus on DEREK JARMAN: War Requiem (1988)

I love that Jarman’s War Requiem is pegged as one of his more accessible films. A near dialogue-free impressionistic interpretation of a (relatively) modern choral work is accessible for Jarman. Kudos.

There is a lot to admire here, though I will note that the film is more accessible, not blanket accessible. That said, I am not sure watching the piece on a home theatre system does it complete justice.

War Requiem is a big film. Jarman goes large with his imagery, taking cues from the life of 27 year old WWI soldier poet Wilfred Owen, whose poems provide the bedrock for Benjamin Britten’s tumultuous requiem. There is a lot of choral bombast and a lot of sumptuous tableau work to soak up. Again we find Jarman devoting his creative energy to his queer forebears, reasserting their queerness, reimagining their pre-gay love through the identity politics lens of the '80s.

Here he is less explicit, opting to linger on Owen's deep, battle-heightened friendship with his comrade. The love is requited though only barely physical. Jarman's concern, as with Owens, locks onto the meaninglessness of the destruction of such romances. Reinforcing this within the meaninglessness of war in general and backing it with Britten’s emotional dirge layers sorrow upon sorrow. Suffice to say, this is not the happiest of films.

Again, Tilda Swinton emotes it best amongst the collective mourning. Like her climactic scream in The Last of England, her extended tear-choked wailing at the foot of the soldier’s grave could well be used as précis for the film as a whole. But I wouldn’t recommend wiping the film just to indulge in Swinton’s nurse’s grief. To do so would skip over some glimmers of surprisingly tender romance and the heavy dose of Jarman’s queer-tinted religious iconography. And Nathaniel Parker at his most attractive. And Laurence Olivier’s last performance.

Next up: The Garden.

This post contributes to Director Focus: Derek Jarman.