Cherry Gilchrist
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Spellbound watching The Dead!

2/3/2012

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I am always late catching up on films, music and books– possibly the last person to discover Nick Drake, and to go round telling everyone they really should read Barbara Kingsolver and ‘The Poisonwood Bible’. Maybe I enjoy discovering treasures later on, by which time they have almost become archaeological relics.

Last night it was ‘The Dead’, a DVD of the film from 1987 directed by John Huston, which held me spellbound. Thanks to my daughter for a late, much hinted at birthday present! Two of the creative courses that I teach online happen to have James Joyce’s ‘Dubliners’ as a set text, and to rally students who complain about this collection of short stories being too pessimistic or old-fashioned for them, I’ve suggested they take a look at two Utube clips from these short stories – for Araby http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z3pUH1MfC9I and  for ‘The Dead’ http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6isUZAw0CQQ  Some have been moved to tears! (and that’s just the men)

So I finally got round to seeing the whole film, and was mesmerised by the great characterisation, unhurried pace and exquisite cameo detail. The poignant atmosphere of a Dublin household at the turn of the century, with its decaying gentility and folorn hopes is beautifully captured. Along with a steely hint of trouble to come on the Irish political stage, and a heritage of enchanting music (here’s another weepie, The Lass of Aughrim at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=I1CP5Lz2iHE ). It also left me eager to trace the poem which Huston inserted into the film, but which is not found in the original Joyce text: ‘Donal Og’, translated from the Irish by Lady Augusta Gregory,  who was a friend to the poet W. B. Yeats and closely associated with the magical order of The Golden Dawn. But that’s a later post, and another story!

A quick search, and there it was at http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19457

Here’s the first verse:

It is late last night the dog was speaking of you;
the snipe was speaking of you in her deep marsh.
It is you are the lonely bird through the woods;
and that you may be without a mate until you find me.


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    Cherry Gilchrist

    Author of books on family history, relationships, alchemy, myths & legends. Life writing tutor teaching for Universities of Oxford & Exeter. Keen on quirky, ancient and mysterious things.

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