Snow, Movies (63 Up)
Jan. 13th, 2020 03:32 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
radiantfractureLast night when I stepped out of Little Women into the street, it had just begun to snow. I saw the first white dots on my gray sleeve and felt happy. It was hail, really, at first, but that turned to snow as the night went on, and around eleven I went out to have a tromp round the neighborhood. There are still a few houses dressed in colourful lights, and some small snowpersons had sprung up almost immediately.
Today I had thought of going up to the office, but it's still snowing heavily, and while the school is open, getting there and back would have been medium epic. I would have walked -- in even one day's worth of snow the buses here can end up hours behind -- which probably means at least an hour and a half each way. I'm already planning to walk to Good tonight for the first Follow-Through Session -- that's a kind of accountability group that follows on from the Creative Work program. So I just checked my work email and left it at that.
I had a bad night's sleep and so have not been nearly as effective today as I wanted to be, though I have done lots of household chores. I'm still not entirely well, which is frustrating.
Little Women was the second movie I saw this weekend; on Saturday I finally got to see 63 Up at the downtown rep cinema. I went with S. and R., who both knew the series at least a little.
I can't remember exactly how I started to watch the Up series -- I think I would have discovered it during the MA program, probably around 2010-11? Before 56 Up came out, but not that long before. I don't think I started at Seven Up! I was always more interested in the participants as adults. Maybe 28 Up? I binge-watched through to 49 Up, then watched 56 Up as soon as it came out (online in some fashion, though I forget how -- I feel like my memory of this should be sharper).
[ETA: For background, the Up series is a British longitudinal documentary filmed every seven years, interviewing the same participants since 1964. It began with Seven Up!, which was supposed to be a one-off examining the class system in Britain, and then someone -- the director Apted? -- had the idea of following up every seven years, and the rest is social history.]
I've taken different kinds of comfort from the series as I've watched it.
Some not very sorted thoughts on 63 Up and the whole series follow.
I think my deepest lesson from the Up series is that life, and especially midlife, can be much more capacious than we're given to expect. What feels like a "failed" life at 28 or 35 or even 42 still has space in it for much to happen. That has certainly been my story -- the last six or so years of my life, my forties, have been by far the richest and most fulfilling, and their happiness has come from wholly unanticipated directions.
What struck me the first time through the Up Series, in terms of the arc of life, was how much happier nearly everyone seemed to have suddenly become at 42, as compared to the earlier iterations, and how this carried through into 49 -- it seemed like a fairly kind decade. Of course there's the apotheosis of Neil, and the later-life marriage and family for Bruce.
56 was harder to witness, as everyone had grown frailer and noticeably older as compared to the previous two films. But 56 had its delights, too -- like Peter returning after 28 years so that he could promote his folk band.
Within the spaciousness, there's a lot of unfulfilled promise in the series, a lot of frustrating waste of people's gifts, especially for the women and the working-class people. The stupid, cruel insecurity of social services cutbacks, of the loss of vital jobs like Lynn's library work. And I have always found the most privileged participants and their lives pretty dull (well, the ones who became barristers, anyway). But throughout, the process has remained fascinating.
So 63 Up. Before we went in, S. wondered if very much could have happened between 56 and 63, and to some extend that proved apposite. I didn't find it as compelling as the earlier films.
At points the questions and answers seemed a little rote, a little bland, as though neither side of the interview felt as daring as in the past.
On the whole, participants had not experienced as many shifts as in 42, 49, and 56. Many were moving towards retirement or had retired. They were reflective, and thinking about mortality, though not morbid. They had lost more parents. Of course, Lynn had died since 56 Up, and that was a real source of grief. And of course, Nick has throat cancer -- also hard to see that big, loud, vital man shrunken and sad.
Yes, that seems natural, now that I see it: the shifts were largely in health rather than in other facets of life. In a life of relative calm, that would be the way of things.
I really felt the absence of Suzy -- after talking about dropping out for fourteen years (well, since the start, really) she in fact opted out this time. I hope she comes back again. She is so articulate and acute -- I missed her insights.
However, Neil never fails to disappoint. Since 56 Up, he GOT MARRIED. Neil! They were separated by 63 Up, but he said they'd been happy for four years. Good on you, Neil. Who would have thought. Please keep proving life can always transform.
What 63 Up feels like, more than anything, is director Michael Apted's farewell. He is, after all, almost 79. He may live to direct another installment, but that's hardly guaranteed.
Two questions preoccupied the conversations: first, do you think your character really was visible at seven years old -- are you in a sense the same person; and second, how has participating affected your life?
Mostly the participants seemed to think that they were the same core person, but that life's events were driven more by external forces than by that character.
We began with Tony, and I think he probably got the longest total screen time. I've always found Tony kind of irritating, but at 63 I've softened towards him. He'd had a pulmonary embolism and was on warfarin. And his sameness, his forthrightness, was reassuring.
I had a coughing fit and had to go out during the bits with Symon and Paul, so I'm not entirely sure what they said.
After the film, as we walked up to the pub, R. wondered how, with 14 participants, no one had turned out to be queer (or not obviously so / out). Some of that might be in the choice of the children -- were queer-seeming children less likely to be chosen? Probably -- just like they chose fewer women and almost no people of colour.
We considered the question of Jackie -- of all the participants, her story seems to have the space in it for queerness, but she's never mentioned anything like that. She busted Apted's balls a little for his different approach to interviewing men and women (which we agreed was accurate) but she also said she'd loved participating.
That final montage, where the old voiceover says "Give me a child at seven, and I will show you the man," juxtaposing the seven-year-old selves with the 63-year-old versions -- of course that was moving, and can only be more so as time goes on.
I very much hope that the series continues to 70 Up and beyond -- documenting that stretch of life would, I think, be incredibly valuable, though very tough -- to *really* see a life taken through from its beginning to its conclusion.
Even this much mortality made me reflect uncomfortably about what I can do to make 63 easier when I get there -- though who knows if I will manage it.
{rf}
Today I had thought of going up to the office, but it's still snowing heavily, and while the school is open, getting there and back would have been medium epic. I would have walked -- in even one day's worth of snow the buses here can end up hours behind -- which probably means at least an hour and a half each way. I'm already planning to walk to Good tonight for the first Follow-Through Session -- that's a kind of accountability group that follows on from the Creative Work program. So I just checked my work email and left it at that.
I had a bad night's sleep and so have not been nearly as effective today as I wanted to be, though I have done lots of household chores. I'm still not entirely well, which is frustrating.
Little Women was the second movie I saw this weekend; on Saturday I finally got to see 63 Up at the downtown rep cinema. I went with S. and R., who both knew the series at least a little.
I can't remember exactly how I started to watch the Up series -- I think I would have discovered it during the MA program, probably around 2010-11? Before 56 Up came out, but not that long before. I don't think I started at Seven Up! I was always more interested in the participants as adults. Maybe 28 Up? I binge-watched through to 49 Up, then watched 56 Up as soon as it came out (online in some fashion, though I forget how -- I feel like my memory of this should be sharper).
[ETA: For background, the Up series is a British longitudinal documentary filmed every seven years, interviewing the same participants since 1964. It began with Seven Up!, which was supposed to be a one-off examining the class system in Britain, and then someone -- the director Apted? -- had the idea of following up every seven years, and the rest is social history.]
I've taken different kinds of comfort from the series as I've watched it.
Some not very sorted thoughts on 63 Up and the whole series follow.
I think my deepest lesson from the Up series is that life, and especially midlife, can be much more capacious than we're given to expect. What feels like a "failed" life at 28 or 35 or even 42 still has space in it for much to happen. That has certainly been my story -- the last six or so years of my life, my forties, have been by far the richest and most fulfilling, and their happiness has come from wholly unanticipated directions.
What struck me the first time through the Up Series, in terms of the arc of life, was how much happier nearly everyone seemed to have suddenly become at 42, as compared to the earlier iterations, and how this carried through into 49 -- it seemed like a fairly kind decade. Of course there's the apotheosis of Neil, and the later-life marriage and family for Bruce.
56 was harder to witness, as everyone had grown frailer and noticeably older as compared to the previous two films. But 56 had its delights, too -- like Peter returning after 28 years so that he could promote his folk band.
Within the spaciousness, there's a lot of unfulfilled promise in the series, a lot of frustrating waste of people's gifts, especially for the women and the working-class people. The stupid, cruel insecurity of social services cutbacks, of the loss of vital jobs like Lynn's library work. And I have always found the most privileged participants and their lives pretty dull (well, the ones who became barristers, anyway). But throughout, the process has remained fascinating.
So 63 Up. Before we went in, S. wondered if very much could have happened between 56 and 63, and to some extend that proved apposite. I didn't find it as compelling as the earlier films.
At points the questions and answers seemed a little rote, a little bland, as though neither side of the interview felt as daring as in the past.
On the whole, participants had not experienced as many shifts as in 42, 49, and 56. Many were moving towards retirement or had retired. They were reflective, and thinking about mortality, though not morbid. They had lost more parents. Of course, Lynn had died since 56 Up, and that was a real source of grief. And of course, Nick has throat cancer -- also hard to see that big, loud, vital man shrunken and sad.
Yes, that seems natural, now that I see it: the shifts were largely in health rather than in other facets of life. In a life of relative calm, that would be the way of things.
I really felt the absence of Suzy -- after talking about dropping out for fourteen years (well, since the start, really) she in fact opted out this time. I hope she comes back again. She is so articulate and acute -- I missed her insights.
However, Neil never fails to disappoint. Since 56 Up, he GOT MARRIED. Neil! They were separated by 63 Up, but he said they'd been happy for four years. Good on you, Neil. Who would have thought. Please keep proving life can always transform.
What 63 Up feels like, more than anything, is director Michael Apted's farewell. He is, after all, almost 79. He may live to direct another installment, but that's hardly guaranteed.
Two questions preoccupied the conversations: first, do you think your character really was visible at seven years old -- are you in a sense the same person; and second, how has participating affected your life?
Mostly the participants seemed to think that they were the same core person, but that life's events were driven more by external forces than by that character.
We began with Tony, and I think he probably got the longest total screen time. I've always found Tony kind of irritating, but at 63 I've softened towards him. He'd had a pulmonary embolism and was on warfarin. And his sameness, his forthrightness, was reassuring.
I had a coughing fit and had to go out during the bits with Symon and Paul, so I'm not entirely sure what they said.
After the film, as we walked up to the pub, R. wondered how, with 14 participants, no one had turned out to be queer (or not obviously so / out). Some of that might be in the choice of the children -- were queer-seeming children less likely to be chosen? Probably -- just like they chose fewer women and almost no people of colour.
We considered the question of Jackie -- of all the participants, her story seems to have the space in it for queerness, but she's never mentioned anything like that. She busted Apted's balls a little for his different approach to interviewing men and women (which we agreed was accurate) but she also said she'd loved participating.
That final montage, where the old voiceover says "Give me a child at seven, and I will show you the man," juxtaposing the seven-year-old selves with the 63-year-old versions -- of course that was moving, and can only be more so as time goes on.
I very much hope that the series continues to 70 Up and beyond -- documenting that stretch of life would, I think, be incredibly valuable, though very tough -- to *really* see a life taken through from its beginning to its conclusion.
Even this much mortality made me reflect uncomfortably about what I can do to make 63 easier when I get there -- though who knows if I will manage it.
{rf}
