The Deep Blue Sea (Molly Malone)

    365 Films

Entry #160

The Deep Blue Sea (2011)

Directed by Terence Davies

The moment in question from Terence Davies' ravishing film The Deep Blue Sea occurs a little past the midway point of the story.  Hester Collyer (Rachel Weisz) has just phoned her lover Freddie Page (Tom Hiddelston) in a vain attempt to reconcile before he leaves town with a promise of a new job.  The entirety of the film is set the day after Hester attempted to commit suicide because Freddie, the man she left her high society judge husband for in the first place, forgot her birthday.  Therefore, the series of shots that begin what is essentially one long, uninterrupted tracking shot through a track of the London Underground, remind us that this character has oblivion on her mind.  She races down the stairs before pausing right at the tracks, yet we don't hear a train approaching the station, so we begin to wonder what exactly she's doing down there.  Davies' transitions from a shot of Hester's POV looking down the dark tunnel, to the aforementioned tracking shot that lasts for a little over two and a half minutes, but speaks volumes.  

It's rare when you can remember such an exact moment when a film became "great" for you in your mind.  It's that moment when, if slouching, you are suddenly sitting upright and your eyes become attached to the screen as though magnetized.  This sequence was that moment for me.  Which is not to suggest that everything else in The Deep Blue Sea is lackluster, merely that, I'll probably never forget the intense reaction this shot stirred within me.  I'm very thankful for it too, because up until this film, I was gallingly unaware of Mr. Davies prior film work and speaking from experience, if you share a similar affliction, acquit yourself of that burden immediately. 

Back to the sequence, the aforementioned phone call with Freddie was an attempt at reconciliation because he had, in fact, discovered her suicide attempt and decided quickly that the affair was no longer worth his time and effort.  Hester spends a large portion of the present day scenes of the film in an intense isolation.  It is only fitting she would seek solitude underground.  And that's what is perhaps the most captivating element to Davies' handling of Hester's very personal memory of the London Blitz, it's almost calming. Davies' previous biographical films Distant Voices, Still Lives and The Long Day Closes (among others) display his absolute mastery of flashbacks that double as memory.  While never tipping into pointless nostalgia, Davies is able to simultaneously preserve a moment in amber and at the same time, achieve an aching distance from it as well.  This sequence is a perfect encapsulation of his abilities.  The dust that rattles loose from the tunnel walls is the only indication of the violence occurring above-ground but the devastating impacts of those bombs are felt in the faces of each and every person the camera passes by in that graceful tracking shot.  As we slowly creep down the tunnel, we see a civilization attempting to adapt by clinging to their former lives as much as humanly possible.  People are playing cards, tiny UK flags are adorned like christmas lights, and war propaganda posters are posted on about every available inch of tunnel wall.  The lights are dim and the mood is somber (the people almost look like diorama pieces from the Natural History Museum), but there is a deep sense of resilience to this new found community.  The Irish traditional Molly Malone, which begins as a solo performance and coalesces into a group sing-along whenever it reaches the chorus, doubles as a way to pass the time and remember the past.  When those voices muster the strength to collectively join in the procession, it was one of the most galvanizing moments of that movie year.  There isn't a director working today who can wring the magic out of a shared moment of song like Terence Davies.  There is no doubt in my mind about that fact.  Finally, the camera comes to a stop and lingers on Hester and Sir William Collyer.  Everything we have seen prior to this in the film suggests their marriage was one devoid of passion.  Yet in these moments, Hester seems to remember that even when they were cast out of their comfortable upper class lifestyle, they could face the onslaught together.  Holding onto each other while never forgetting to sing, nor look ahead of them into the darkness to ponder the surrounding devastation together.  

That push-pull, between the devil and the deep blue sea perhaps, (sorry that was terrible and I couldn't resist, but I'll do it again for sure in later posts) is at the heart of the dilemma for the character of Hester.  The war was a disastrous event, the effects of which are entirely visible even in the present day sequences of the film (the present day is set in 1950).  Yet, it has left Hester and William with a calamitous experience they shared in each other's arms, and from which neither can escape.  Her affair with Freddie is volatile and exciting, but he too has been damaged by his experience in the RAF, not to mention the rogue and somewhat naive nature of his personality in general.  What this suggests is that neither choice represents any kind of edenic ideal for Hester, which is refreshing for a film about infidelity, especially one where a female is the main focus.  Most movies that revolve around an affair (again, especially when a woman is concerned) have to present their current partners as devil incarnates or utterly boring ignorant dopes.  So much so, that we begin to wonder what they were ever doing with that person in the first place.  The genius of Davies' film (and Terence Rattigan's original play) is that the choice is never made clear for Hester.  This is a film about grief and mourning, and like the makeshift society formed in the London Underground, Hester can neither forget nor move on.  As if it were ever that simple.