An Lanntair, Stornoway, Isle of Lewis, 10 August 2009

MY GRANDFATHER would just need to quote the first few lines of “There is no new thing under……” to get the Sunday night debate going. Of course it’s nothing new to play music live to a projected silent film, but The Southwell Collective’s Highlands and Islands tour takes the concept into some new territory.

Still from St Kilda (courtesy of Scottish Screen)

The starting points, in an evening of two voyages, are both islands considered to be “at the edge”. But the films which are screened to their live music accompaniment could scarcely be more different.

St Kilda followed an expedition mounted to bring relief to the population of Hiort in the St Kilda archipelago after a winter when the supply ship failed to cross that particular forty miles of interesting water. But the philanthropic aspect was mixed up with newspaper publicity, tourism and curiosity.

The enthusiastic film-maker has made an invaluable travel-logue but “the natives” are treated pretty much like Innuit people were until all too recently. The Hiortachs show off their cliff skills and their artefacts to the visitors, but the camera does not linger long enough to let anyone tell their own story. The storyboard captions jump in with a jaunty note and that is perfectly caught by the guitar which responds to the jerky movements and dizzy cliffs.

But this is the aperitif. Jean Epstein was an experimental film-maker whose drama Finis Terrae, set at the Atlantic end of Brittany, is an astonishing work in its own terms. But it seems incredible that it was made in 1929. Some of the expressive photography, lingering on the detail which is telling a large part of the story, seems more reminiscent of Tarkovsky than any more contemporary parallel.

And it’s a timeless story of misunderstanding, anger, trial and redemption which gives the musicians huge scope to respond. Percussion was added to the guitars, clarinets oboe and electronics to build the response. I can’t say what the scope for improvisation is within the scored music but I’d imagine there is some space.

An Lanntair lends itself perfectly to this approach and it would be fine to see the organisation originate a work which would fully explore the potentials of a space which combines the ability to show high quality projection and achieve excellent sound in live performance.

I’m thinking of a film maker like Bill Macleod (Gaelic versions of The Lost Salt Gift of Blood and Crowdie and Cream), a local man with a lot of experience behind him and an eye for the image which can tell a large part of a story with no dialogue.

I was privileged to be at one of the last public nights in The Lews Castle before its closing for safety reasons. A range of silent movies was played, and Duncan Major Morrison, who had done this often in the past, played live piano to the imagery one more time. The chirpy alternated with pathos. Perfect.

I’d say this new experiment was a success and the choice of films was excellent. But I’d also say that some elements did not work so well. When it comes to the film, you have to accept that what now seems to be flaws are linked to its strengths and are a part of the time when it was made.

The groupings of waiting women in Ouessant seem just too operatic, and there is a gesture and a faint too many. But you accept that for the superbly understated performances of non-professional actors showing the dark tensions which are under any community, and especially one that has to fight so hard with warring natural elements.

I was navigating 10 miles from the coast of Ouessant last autumn. The visibility was poor and my mind was seeing the lines of reefs, more stark than Mangersta or even those of the St Kilda group. Epstein’s photography brings these and the tide and the light on the water and the threatening fog right into the theatre.

The music lets go to the expressive, and usually served the film well. I did however have a couple of quibbles. The percussion was just too dominant at times – a more subtle build up would have created more tension. I wondered why the songs, which sounded a bit weak in English, were not the hypnotic Breton chants like those of the Sardinieres. And the voice-over, translating the French storyboard titles was weak, not coming out over the music.

That said, this was a very moving performance and demonstrated that there is still great scope in telling a story with little or no dialogue but expressive film and music.

© Ian Stephen, 2009

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