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Benjamin Britten's Masterpiece
Portrayed without dialogue from the principal players to the accompaniment of Benjamin Britten's masterwork, the 1961
oratorio War Requiem, this film is a parade of images - brutal, exquisite, erotic, and painterly. Avant-garde director
Derek Jarman presents a hallucinatory vision of war, drawing on the life and verse of WWI poet Wilfred Owen, who was killed
on a French battlefield two weeks before the Armistice. Owen's preoccupations include the Christ-like martyrdom of soldiers,
the interplay of sexuality and death, the pity and horror evoked by the mutilation of young bodies
The soundtrack recording of Britten's music is by the London Symphony Orchestra with soloists including
Peter Pears and Dietrich Fischer-Dieskau.
This film had its world premiere on 06 January 1989
It was broadcast on BBC2 at Easter, 1989
principal characters
Sean Bean ............
German Soldier
Patricia
Hayes ....... Mother
Ronan McCullough ..... Enemy
Mother
Laurence Olivier
..... Old Soldier
Nathaniel
Parker ..... Wilfred Owen
Tilda Swinton ........ Nurse
Owen Teale ........... Unknown
Soldier
Nigel Terry
.......... Abraham
production
Produced by .................... Don Boyd
Executive
Producer ............. John Kelleher
Associate Producer .............
Christopher Harrison
Directed
by .................... Derek Jarman
Editor ......................... Rick Elgood
Cinematographer ................ Richard Greatrex
Production Designer ............
Lucy Morahan
Costume Designer ............... Linda Alderson
Writer ......................... Derek Jarman
From the Poetry of ............. Wilfred Owen
Music Composer ................. Benjamin Britten
World Premiere ................. 06 January 1989
Transmission.................... Easter 1989
(BBC2)
Video Running Time .............
92 minutes (1988)
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| War Requiem |
What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
-Only the monstrous anger
of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them;
no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And
bugles calling for them from sad shires.
What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys
but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of good-byes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their
flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.
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