Die Asche meiner Mutter

The Emerald Isle, due to its naturally green countryside, has more than its fair share of rain; we see plenty of that in `Angela's Ashes: and people splashing or wading through murky puddles to get to their rented houses: the tenants may be able to afford the few shillings rent per week, or may be not. Such were the conditions in a slum of Limerick, locality afamed for its humorous five-lined verses, in the west of Eire, then still very much under English `ownership'. Eire is today the only European country to have less population than it did in 1900. Reading/watching `Angela's Ashes' makes it quite clear why that was so: the Irish emigrated to North America and Australia, and indeed as a lad trying to grow up in post-war London I could hear comments like `there are more Irish in Islington than in Ireland'. I could have mentioned any other suburb of London, but it so happens that Alan Parker and Emily Watson were both born in this inner suburb. Many of those Irish émigrés found fame and fortune, and their offspring have helped to keep the White House occupied, though mostly they found their ways into suburbs of Chicago, New York, Boston, etc.

But the 1930's in poor suburbs of New York in the Great Depression was hardly a friendly environment lurking behind the awesome sight of the lady with the torch in the harbour (a present of the French Government).

`Angela's Ashes' records those grim years for a poor family, based on hard autobiographical facts; but Frank McCourt's book better conveys that curiously Irish sense of fatalistic humour combined with that strangely abject Catholicism so pervasive in life of those times. The elements contrast and contradict themselves: the useless alcoholic father who must be respected because he is their father, though later he disappears, and the boy's (Frankie) obedient and supposedly devout sessions at the confessionary box, would seem to veer into mirth if it were not for the sinister underlying sociological aspects. And it is the classroom where much of this spoon-fed doctrinal interpretation obviates the ruthless imposition of supposedly `clean' ideology - whether Catholic or not.

Beautifully filmed in almost black and white, with more colour creeping in as the film progresses, undoubtedly Alan Parker has done a good job and has tried to remain faithful to the philosophical concepts of the book. Excellent Emily Watson and Robert Carlyle, but no less so the different youngsters used in the film as the children grew up, especially Michael Legge. Other secondary actors are all exemplary, well cast. The result is a film that has an authentic feel to it, such that having already read the book and seeing this film twice in no way diminishes the interest it suscitates. The music is a very different kind of John Williams to what we are accustomed, giving correct ambience to the story's unfolding.

By rights, 'Angela's Ashes', Alan Parker's film of Frank McCourt's account of growing up in astonishingly deprived conditions in the impoverished theocracy of inter-war Ireland, should be unwatchable: just how much misery can a viewer be expected to take? But in fact, Parker tunes the misery level to perfection, and the movie is never as gruelling as its subject matter might lead one to expect. And while it doesn't quite have the emotional impact of the work, say, of Ken Loach, our foremost chronicler of contemporary poverty, there are still fine performances from all of the cast, most especially from the luminous Emily Watson (playing the eponymous Angela, whose ashes, however, appear to have disappeared from the screenplay). There are some nice stylistic touches as well: Limerick may be one of the wettest cities in Europe, but in this film, it lives under a perpetual cloud, though it gets a little brighter when the hapless heroes move into a slightly better class of house. But only a little. This is a movie that leaves you with a sense of sheer amazement and horror at how recently people lived in worse conditions than we would treat animals; and at the scale of the social and economic transformation that Ireland has undergone in McCourt's lifetime. And also at the unrivalled brilliance of Watson's skills as an actress.

Angela's Ashes is a well made picture, and one of the better movie to come out this year. Also, this film is Alan Parker's best since Pink Floyd's The Wall. The picture evokes a feeling of sorrow for the young Frank McCourt, in a tale that never has any definite answers, it just leaves them open. The acting is superb, mainly by Emily Watson as the loving mother Angela McCout and Robert carlyle who gives his best performance since Trainspotting here as the father with almost three different personalities. We watch as young Frank goes through three periods of his life in the poverish Ireland and thankfully in the end everything turns out OK. This makes the film even better. Along with a gentle and moving score (by oscar winner John Williams), this film is very provocative, touching and dramatic. Well done.

In the very opening scene of Alan Parker's `Angela's Ashes,' we are informed by the narrator and main character, Frankie McCourt, in a phrase that turns out to be a masterpiece of understatement, that he had a `miserable childhood' – but just how miserable we may not be quite adequately prepared to see. Based on the author's Pulitzer Prize winning autobiographical memoir, this compelling film plunges us directly into the wretchedness and squalor of life in Depression-ridden Ireland, a setting overflowing with disease, starvation, joblessness and despair. Indeed, by the time the film has hit the 25-minute mark, we have already witnessed the deaths of no fewer than three of Frankie's little siblings. The film, like the novel on which it is based, never flinches from portraying the brutal reality of the life the people of this dreary town must endure.

Yet, the film is also, at times, rich in humor and a sense of that unquenchable optimism that somehow exists in even the most hopeless of circumstances. Frankie, despite the harsh conditions of his life, remains a boy focused on the good things that come his way, enduring even a loving but utterly irresponsible ne'er-do-well father (beautifully played by `The Full Monty's Robert Carlyle) with an indulgence and tolerance borne of filial devotion. As Frankie grows from young boy, dutifully fulfilling the parental role for his younger brothers, to a man verging on the edge of adulthood, he feeds on his dreams of moving to America to start a new life full of hope and promise. The people and situations he encounters on this road create a stunning tapestry of life, teeming with bitterness and coldness it is true, but also with occasional, albeit momentary, displays of warmth, kindness and compassion – whether they be from a seemingly bitter aunt who, much to his astonishment, buys Frankie a brand new set of clothes in which to start his new job, a teacher who inspires him to see life beyond the circumscribed limits of this dreary Irish town or a compassionate priest who counsels Frankie in a moment of dark despair. These help to counterbalance the deadening effects of his father's thoughtlessness and drunkenness, the death of his first love by consumption, the often brutal treatment he receives at the hands of both his teachers and fellow classmates. And all the while there stands his mother, the anchor that holds him firmly in place, a woman beaten down by poverty, the untimely deaths of her children, the fecklessness of her otherwise loving husband - yet a woman so full of the quality of stoic self-sacrifice that it is from she that Frankie draws the strength he needs to move on in his life.

Emily Watson provides a luminous portrait of this woman, triumphantly conveying the longsuffering reserve that helps shield her from the ugliness and dreariness of her life and provides her with the strength to carry on and build into her children a sense of moral rectitude. And the three boys who portray Frankie at various stages of the drama are utterly perfect in their wide-eyed naturalism, as they look upon a world often incomprehensible in its drabness and cruelty.

It seems to be becoming a truism lately that, if you want to see the bleakest portrayal of life imaginable, go to see a film set in Ireland. Nowhere does the sun shine less frequently, nowhere do the drab colors of gray and brown so heavily predominate, nowhere does poverty seem so all encompassing and inescapable. The Ireland of `Angela's Ashes' is surely no exception. The filmmakers, moreover, cast a scathing eye on the mindless superstition, bigotry and hypocrisy to be found in much of the blindly pro-Southern Ireland, anti-Protestant, anti-British, anti-Northern Ireland attitude perpetuated by the Catholic Church there in the 1930's. Thus, in the depths of McCourt's autobiographical story, lies a diatribe with its roots planted deep in political and social protest. Yet, because of our fascination with the boy at the center of the narrative, these qualities filter through subtly, never dominating the proceedings. `Angela's Ashes' is rather, from beginning to end, a moving story about goodhearted, ordinary people learning to cope with the immense hardships life throws their way. In the long run, it certainly makes one happier with one's own lot in life. `Angela's Ashes,' for those who can take its uncompromising view of reality, is a richly rewarding experience.

The trouble with making a movie out of a Pulitzer Prize winning book is that no matter how good and true to the book it is, it will usually be a disappointment. This has a lot to do with the difference between reading a story and seeing one. When one reads a book, it is usually done over time, perhaps a week or two. The words stir the imagination and the scenes described become images, usually more illusory than real. There is plenty of time for this process to work. A film, in contrast, is viewed over a period of about two hours, where the viewer is perceiving rather than imagining. The portrayals are well defined and no matter how creative the director, it is very difficult to create scenes that equal those of readers who have previously conjured fantastic images in their heads.

I believe this is the reason this film was such a disappointment to so many viewers who had read the book. Thankfully, I saw the film first, so I had no preconceived notions. With that fresh perspective, I must say that it was outstanding.

It the story is taken from the memoirs of Frank McCourt, who recounted his childhood in Ireland in the 1930's and 1940's. It is a poignant and compelling story of a poor family struggling to survive. The images are powerful depictions of the indignity of indigence in a world where hunger and disease were common and people went almost as frequently to the cemetery as to the market.

Alan Parker brings us a starkly realistic view of McCourt's Ireland. He scoured Ireland to find a ghetto that brought forth the images described in the book, but after an exhaustive search, he decided to build the lane from scratch using McCourt's photographs. Upon visiting the set, McCourt said it was chillingly accurate and he couldn't believe he wasn't back home. Parker desaturated the color to give the film a very stark look, consistent with the squalor he was trying to portray. Paradoxically, the loss of color intensity intensified the power of the images. Though I'm not a big fan of this technique (I like rich and vibrant color), in this case it was the perfect choice.

The film suffers a bit from excessive length, undoubtedly because there was so much to cover. However, when Parker bombards the viewer with disturbingly hopeless imagery for well over two hours, it becomes tedious. This is another advantage of reading a book. You can more easily put it down and come back to it. Parker sometimes overdoes certain ideas that he could have condensed. We could have done without half a dozen vomiting scenes and all the chamber pot activity. One or two such scenes would have gotten the message across.

The cast was consistently excellent. Parker saw over 15,000 child actors before casting the three boys who played Frank at various ages. All three were wonderful, but my favorite was Michael Legge, the oldest Frank. He was the most hopeful person in the film, giving him character and determination, without losing his idealistic innocence.

Emily Watson is a great dramatic actress and rose to the occasion to endow Angela with superhuman strength, courage and persistence in the face of crushing hardship and sorrow. Robert Carlyle was also terrific as Frank's father. He made the character a lovable man with fatal flaws. Despite his heinously irresponsible behavior squandering money on drink as his family starved, his charming nature and effusive affection for the children evoked as much love from us as disgust.

This is a brilliant production. Though many who read the book were disappointed, I must point out that Frank McCourt, who wrote the book, was unabashed in praising it for its realism in capturing his impressions and feelings of the times. I rated it a 9/10. Other than a bit of overkill, this is superb filmmaking giving us an affecting look at the human face of poverty.