A Walk Through H

I've been reviewing some of what I think Greenaway is all about: multi-layered imagery and deep narrative games ("Prospero's Books", "The Pillow Book") and humorous, out-of-this world funny and witty explorations of film as a visual medium ("The Falls"). This film falls to the latter category, and I'm more and more falling in love with the latter films as well.

Bearing in mind that I was so hooked on Greenaway some ten years ago, at the time of the "Tulse Luper Suitcases" projects, that is to say, to his newer fare. This and "The Falls" were the two early films that struck a chord with me, but now, after having been away from them for a very long time, it's these two films I feel like coming home to. That which is missing in "later" Greenaway, say, from "Prospero's Books" (1991) onward, is here in abundance.

Not only visually satisfying, narratively ambitious and laugh-out-loud funny, "A Walk Through H" is a remarkably cohesive and entertaining film. This is like moving to another country and realizing one has learnt a new language without trying. It's an eye-opener in terms of everything Greenaway means to me, and also what I think he means to himself, or at least wishes us to believe. While his theses concerning what film should be can lose their glitter after a while, the ideas he presents in his films are remarkable and radical. Whether it be an introduction, another bus stop or the final destination in terms of all Greenaway, "A Walk Through H" earns my highest recommendations.

We slowly enter a gallery with many drawings displayed, each framed and situated adjacently on the walls. The narrator tells us that Tulse Luper arranged all the drawings for him while he was ill. The narrator tells us about some of the drawings, some given to him, some stolen, one of them stolen by him. We then arrive at a drawing that Tulse Luper says the narrator will probably need first. The drawing is focused on, Michael Nyman's familiar music starts to play, and, on Tuesday morning, at a quarter to two, the journey begins.

The places are described; a scarlet brick road initially leads through them. Tulse Luper suggested the narrator's journey through H needed 92 maps, and the time to decide what H stood for was at the end of the journey, and by that time, it scarcely mattered. By the time the thirteenth map is reached, the preceding maps begin to fade, each now bears a cross shaped mark. It could be a signpost or a skeleton of a windmill. Maps are fading, and the narrator is now running through H.

The maps cease fading. We soon reach the Amsterdam map, which previously belonged to the keeper of the Owls at the Amsterdam Zoo, Van Hoyten. Van Hoyten is now a bird counter. Different birds are now shown to us at brief intervals. The journey continues through the remaining diverse maps. Eventually, on Tuesday morning, at a quarter to two, the destination is reached. The narrator has travelled through 92 maps, and covered 1,418 miles.

A lady in the gallery gets up from her desk, puts on her coat, and leaves. She had been reading a book called Some Migratory Birds of the Northern Hemisphere by Tulse Luper, 92 Maps, 1418 Birds in Colour.

critics know greenaway as a visual artist; here, his canvasses betray how good. lines stand by themselves, routes in the tale on which this is hung, somehow uninterpretable because of the unevenness of the line, the paint, the medium. the conceit would have been better supported by 50 rather than the 92 maps numerology imposes (the number of maps in a found book).

clever, ok, clever vehicle, catalogue for his graphic work.

I honestly do not know of a more engaging film. This early work was greatly expanded in vision and changed from birth to death in the later (also early) `The Falls.' But to plumb that film you must fight tedium. Not so here.

This is multilevel tour: of a museum, of the 92 drawings displayed therein, of the experiences in collecting the drawings. Each drawing is a map, so the tour is also of the journey taken. The narrator discusses the acquisitions and the journey as assisted by a Tulse Luper. But we learn that the purpose of the journey is for the narrator to be reborn as the ornathologist Tulse Luper.

The maps, the avian companions, the music, and the narrated story meld perfectly. The 92 appears later in `The Falls,' also associated with birds, and in `ZOO' (4x23).

The most important map comes from a birdcounter in the Amsterdam Zoo named Van Hoyten. It is from this person that the soul is stolen. He appears later in `ZOO' as now manager of that Zoo with no legs and a strange bias against black and white animals.

At this writing, Greenaway is making a complex multimedia project called Tulse Luper's Suitcase, seemingly quite dense. The 92 appears there as well. It is a personal history of Uranium, whose atomic number is 92. > I highly recommend that you seek out this film. I saw it on a compilation tape which included `Phones' and `Water Wrackets,' both clearly minor exercises.

well previous comments that suggest that this is merely a catalogue or showcase for Greenaway's graphic work are entirely mistaken. This is easily one of the most thrilling and totally enjoyable films I've ever seen. When discussing I would compare this to feature films as - aside from its length - this short film feels as complete and expansive in scope as any epic out there. Certainly a lot of this is due to Greenaway's encyclopedic approach to things. There is a lot to take in here.

A mention should also be given to its technical competence - certainly some of the loveliest rostrum photography you'll see anywhere (Bert Walker) and the seamless camera movements at the film's beginning and end are admirable for such an early project.