Sunday Bloody Sunday

Alex Greville (Glenda Jackson) is a London divorced working mom who is having an affair with modern sculptor Bob Elkin (Murray Head). Daniel Hirsh (Peter Finch) is a traditional Jewish doctor who is suffering from mysterious pains and is also having an affair with Elkin. Both know about the other relationship as well as having mutual friends. Both are willing to live with the situation but it can't really last.

For all the affairs going on, this movie is very cold. All three people are a little emotionally dead inside. It's not a fun movie. It does not make this a compelling watch. Their relationships are like slow sleepwalking in sadness. The constant emotional self-destruction grounded me down.

This is the story of a love triangle between Dr. Hirsh (Peter Finch), Alex Greville (Glenda Jackson), and Bob Elkin (Murray Head). Hirsh is a dignified Jewish doctor, Alex is a frustrated office worker, and Elkin is an artist specializing in kinetic sculpture. Both Hirsh and Alex are in love with Elkin and he reciprocates in turn to each of them individually.

If being dated is judged by the physical environment of the early 1970s (dial land-line phones, 33 rpm records, antiquated fuse boxes, dated hair styles, and so forth), then, yes, this is dated. But the movie is not dated in terms of its themes. I think this could play out now pretty much as presented here, even in our somewhat more enlightened times. It would not be out of the ordinary for a dignified middle-aged doctor to withhold public advertisement of his sexual orientation, but none-the-less privately engage in a homosexual relationship. In fact it would not be all that unusual for such a person to remain in the closet. Consider that sodomy was a crime in fourteen U.S. states until a Supreme Court decision invalidated such laws in 2003, in a 5-4 vote no less. Homosexual acts had been decriminalized in England but a few years before this movie was made. And we have a current justice on the U.S. Supreme Court who even now, in 2012, makes such statements as, "If we cannot have moral feelings against homosexuality, can we have it against murder?"

Where the movie is perhaps even ahead of its time is in presenting all three participants as accepting themselves for what they are and honestly dealing with their situation without serious guilt or dramatic jealousies. The difficulties of sustaining such a ménage à trois are realistically detailed.

I thought the beautifully filmed Bar Mitzvah was crucial to the story. Until that event I was viewing Hirsh as an essentially lonely person, but seeing that he had a community of relatives and associates who respected him disabused me of that notion. And Hirsh did not view himself in an unfavorable light. The scene that had Finch talking directly to the audience at the end was a great piece of acting; when he so simply and sincerely said, "We had something," I really felt for the guy. Glenda Jackson fans will not be disappointed with her performance. She has a wonderful way of saying things without speaking a word.

I rather like how the story begins in the middle of things--it takes very little imagination to see how this situation could have evolved. What did Alex and Hirsh see in the shallow and ambitious Elkin? You don't have to have lived too long before the questions about romantic relations, "What does he see in her," or, "What does she see in him," occur. In this case, I suppose the question of "What does he see in him," should be added. Questions of love and sex are not easily explained.

The way we get to know each person in increments, with some limited use of flashbacks, I found to be effective.

This was a step forward for Schlesinger. After the grim working class stories--A Kind of Loving, with Alan Bates and June Ritchie miserable over an unwanted pregnancy; Billy Liar with Tom Courtenay constantly fantasizing as a way of coping with his dull life--we got Darling, a slick bit of commercial film-making with Julie Christie. Then the trip to New York for Midnight Cowboy, a picture so empty, and so honored by the Academy, that I feared he would become just another hack, a la Clive Donner.

Instead we get a character study, one of the best films of the last three decades. Daniel Hirsch is drowning in respectability; a Jewish doctor who can't muster the courage to come out because the congregation wouldn't understand, so resigns himself to matchmaking attempts by his mother. Alex Greville works with high level job candidates, whom she can sleep with to chase the boredom away. She wants a husband, but her mother advises her to accept that half a loaf is better than none. Bob Elkin is the love object for both; a handsome and really shallow young man who thinks about his future a lot, and realizes that it doesn't involve either Alex or Daniel.

So many wonderful scenes: Bob and Alex visit friends for the weekend. Bob raids the fridge, finds some milk. Alex tells him it's mother's milk--phwoah! Daniel has a party; a woman starts yelling at her husband about the au pair girl he's been sleeping with. Bob wants to leave; his aesthetic sense is offended by this unseemly display of emotion. Daniel wants him to stay, to provide moral support, but Bob is just too selfish to listen. There is always the feeling that disaster is just around the corner, that the triangle will soon collapse.

Glenda Jackson and Peter Finch are just about perfect as the adults in this situation, and Murray Head, if he doesn't show any great acting ability, at least makes us believe in his desirability. He went on to perform roughly the same role as Annie Girardot's lover in La Mandarine.

After reading about John Schlesinger's death I felt the need to revisit some of his considerable opus. I couldn't decide where to start, Billy Liar, Darling, Far From The Madding Crowd or Sunday Bloody Sunday. If a film could really penetrate the brain of a character, Sunday Bloody Sunday, showed it to me. I saw into Peter Finch's soul to such degree I was kind of embarrassed and compelled at the same time. Murray Head, personifies what Finch's character longs for and is kind of horrified by. Glenda Jackson and Peter Finch play the imperfect angles of this painfully human triangle. The charming shallowness of Murray Head's character made me understand the complexity of knowing and accepting all of our darkest contradictions. John Schlesinger was a great artist.

I recently saw Sunday, Bloody Sunday and thought it was brilliant. I was suprised it came out in 1971, it is definitely ahead of its time. The highlight of the movie is Peter Finch's role - it took guts to take a role like this back then. I'm glad he eventually went on to win the oscar for Network.