Dreams of a Life

Carol Morley has come up with a really interesting idea.

She's written and directed a documentary about the mysterious death of a beautiful West Indian 39 year old girl (Joyce Vincent) who was a major hit with the lads "People said she was as good looking as Whitney Houston; I thought she was more attractive than that." and had hundreds of friends and admirers and a huge family to boot; four sisters.

The film is not so much about how she died but the fact that it took three years for her body to be discovered. In her flat. Watching her TV which was still on.

No Electricity company shut her utilities off; the council never chased the rent; no one complained about the smell; none of her friends visited; none of doting ex's; none of her family. Nobody.

Carol Morley builds a documentary mixing dramatised re-enactments of her life and "Touching the Void" type real life storytelling to get closer to the truth than the police ever did.

It's a fascinating idea and in places nicely shot with some interesting music (although hardly a career high for ex-Magazine bassist Barry Adamson).

Why then is it so unengaging emotionally? Why do we not really care about poor Joyce Vincent? I think because the story is dragged 30 – 40 minutes past is tell by date. It's just far too long.

It's a shame because I really wanted to like it and applaud almost everything about it; including the fact that it was funded (in part by the Irish Film Board!?) and the incredible detective work that Carol Morley did to unearth so many of the people in Joyce Vincent's life when the police found not one of them.

In the end, it just makes the police look ridiculous.

And poor old Martin, the bachelor who lost the love of his life.

Bless him.

At its core this is a story about a very lonely person, one that we all may know, and how she fell through the cracks of life. One character sums it up perfectly: "It's strange really, it's like she never really existed but was just a figment of our imagination. She was a story. Someone that we all just made up; partly because we just let someone disappeared and die. Someone that we all thought we cared about." A few people have mentioned that this documentary is weak because Joyce, and her story, are mundane and not remarkable." They're absolutely correct, but I see this as a strength for the documentary. Joyce, and her "friends", are not remarkable in any way. Instead, they are normal people who lived their life around someone that was almost a ghost.

It's remarkable to watch these people recite, and discover, how little they knew this woman that they considered a friend. And yet these friends, or interviewees, are the best window into Joyce's life. As the title of the film suggests it really is like Joyce only existed in a dream. Her past and future never existed and she was only a shell of a person. I was reminded strongly of the movie Inception while thinking about Joyce. Not to ruin Inception for anyone, but there's a conversation where one character says to another "I can't imagine you with all your complexity, all your perfection and imperfection. You're just a shade..." That's what Joyce was, only a shade of a real person.

If there's a lesson to take from this movie it's that we need to do a better job of keeping in contact with our friends. I don't know what happened in Joyce's life that left her to die alone, but no one should have that fate.

I remember learning about the discovery of Joyce Vincent's body a few years ago and thinking what a sad and disturbing news story it was, almost beggaring belief in present day civilised society. This superbly and sensitively crafted drama documentary from Carol Morley answers a mere handful of the many questions which inevitably followed while inevitably producing a myriad of others.

It is a salutary reminder that life is both precious and mysterious, things are often not what they seem and how we all think we know our friends but in reality our comprehension is limited to what we are actually permitted to see and understand.

The most refreshing and at the same time most disturbing impression given is that Joyce's friends appear to be genuine, caring people but despite this, she still slipped through the emotional and physical net which binds humanity together.

The power of this film makes the loss almost as tangible to the audience as it must have felt to Martin. It reminds us that although time is often regarded as a great unhurried and invisible healer, it can also be corrosively destructive.

Plenty to contemplate here...

The news of Joyce Vincent's body discovered in a flat in 2006, hit the British waves causing a shock to the system. Joyce died in her apartment just before Christmas 2003, packing presents and watching television, for three years no one noticed her disappearance, no one enquired about her, not even the landlord reacted to the constantly playing TV or the unpaid bills. However terrifying the vision was, it was just a story, as noted by her former friends, lovers and acquaintances that initially failed to connect the death with the Joyce they knew.

The documentary by Carol Morey uncovers the person behind the story and attempts to explain not only the obvious shocking question: How can someone dissolve unnoticed from society? Instead it also fleshes out Joyce Vincent as a person, a human being with dreams and achievements. Probably most surprisingly Joyce Vincent turns out to be somewhat of an extrovert, a beautiful well-versed person of mixed race, who back in the days was loved and adored by many, even having at least two meaningful relationships. Her downfall turns out to be even more shocking given she was once heavily connected with the London musical circles and later on had a well-paid job in the financial sector. Despite these episodes of success, she ultimately spirals into oblivion - detached from her family and friends.

Some may feel unsatisfied at how many questions regarding Joyce Vincent remain unearthed, as there is a large blank period just prior to her death. Not much is known as to why she dropped out of society or why she left her well-paid accountancy post to work as a cleaner. No one knows for whom the presents were being prepared. Not much is said about the abusive Polish boyfriend. But I feel that all these dark parts of Joyce Vincent, mysterious as they must be, would only distract from what is otherwise a sombre eulogy to her life, painting a picture of someone worth remembering, despite her ultimate failure. The sensitive approach with which Carol Morley approaches her story is remarkable, distinctly painting a picture of Joyce, molding her as a person and bringing her something she would have so hoped for: remembrance.

The movie lingers in your memory, invoking questions about the society you live in, where despite being surrounded by warm and caring individuals (as much of Vincent's friends seem to be), she managed to fall through the social net of emotional co-dependence, which binds us all together. The story leaves us contemplating the frailty of our lives and the lucid relevance of who we are. On a personal note also left me all gooey and hugging my significant other - love and acceptance is all we need...

STAR RATING: ***** Saturday Night **** Friday Night *** Friday Morning ** Sunday Night * Monday Morning

Joyce Vincent's skeleton was found in her London bedsit three years after she died, surrounded by wrapped Christmas presents and with the TV still on in the background. Despite once having a fairly active social life, she clearly masked deep rooted insecurities to those around her, some of whom provide talking head perspectives here. These may have driven her to make some bad decisions and mix with the wrong people, drifting apart from those who really cared about her. Film maker Carol Morley attempts to piece together the events leading up to her death, trying to create a picture of who this woman was and how she came to meet such a lonely, desperate end.

It's testament to what a crazy, twenty four hour news world we live in that Joyce Vincent's story, as mind blowing and heart breaking as it is, is the type of thing you could read about in some rag like The Sun and then just put to the back of your mind faster than Jack Robinson. But however much you think about it, the idea of a woman lying dead in her home for three years with not a single friend or family member coming round to check on her or noticing she was gone will always make you wonder what kind of world we're living in, especially with so much more to hand than in years gone by.

As off putting as the thought of it is, the tone of the film should really be as dark and down beat as it can be, since it's such a desperately sad, shaming true life tale, but of course this would make it inaccessible to some, and it works more that Morley balances her work with more soulful, melancholy interludes in between the more dour, desperate moments. We learn of a confident, bubbly woman who could be the life and soul of any party, but who clearly carried deep, dark insecurities around with her and who failed to display much of a personality of her own, preferring to latch on to the close friends and people she had around her.

With the limited amount of material she has to work with, new comer Zawe Ashton brings Joyce to life in as colourful and under stated a way as she can, always at her best in alone, private moments when her passion and talent as a singer really comes to life, only for nothing to come of this. As Robert De Niro once stated in a film of his, there's nothing sadder than wasted talent and while these are very wise words, the film shows how a vulnerable, insecure personality can inadvertently make this so.

Morley has crafted a haunting, desperately sad tale that shows even in the 21st century we still live in more of an atomised, apart society than we'd care to admit and that maybe we don't care about each other as much as we ought to. ***