Il lungo giorno finisce

This movie has given me many hours of pleasure. Remarkably it offers nostalgia for places I have never seen and experiences I have never had. Do not seek fast moving excitement or slick dialogue when you go to see this film, but be prepared to wallow in its sad, wistful beauty. If you are a person who fares best in jovial company then perhaps this is not for you but if you have ever felt alone, or sad without knowing quite why, then you will recognise the chief character, Bud, played to perfection by Leigh McCormack. Of the many children appearing on our screens, often applauded excessively in my opinion, this child has to be one of the best in assuring the integrity of the project. There is no unnecessary music in the film but it is filled with gems which add to the overall feeling of nostalgia, as do the short soundtrack clips from cinema of the period. It is possible to switch this film on at any point and watch for a while as you might stand in front of a painting, but once I have started my VCR I cannot resist watching it in its entirety from the elegance of the title frames, through its succession of windows and its constant rain, to the inevitable fading of the light as the "long day closes".

I remember that in 1992 I went into the cinema to see a film. The hall was full and I had to choose another film to see. I entered a hall to see "The long day closes" with no information what it was about nor about its director. Soon at the first image of the opening titles I was amazed at the quietness, the beauty and the profound emotion of what it was going to come. But what came was even better than what I was expecting. I still remember the scene in which the boy rests his head into his mother's breast as she sings an old song. It is one of the most moving images I've seen in cinema. I've always remembered that film and kept it very profoundly into my heart. It touches you...or you simply ignore it. It is for human beings not for cinema experts. Thanks for listening to me.

This film highlights the cultural gap between the US and the UK - an astonishing, demanding and intelligent film that will only appeal to those with European knowledge or sensitivity to a specific time and location. It's actually the third part of a trilogy, the first two being 'Distant Voices' and 'Still Lives'. Together they make up one of the most unique documents about growing up in the North of England. The pace is measured and takes some time getting used to, but these award-winning films keep their power no matter how many times you watch them. Shot on a shoestring over several years, this last part is about the power of cinema, family, friends and memories.

In reading reviews of this film, I often came across criticisms such as lack of character development and plotless to the point of boring, but this film is anything but so. At times it can slow down and lose your attention, but if you keep paying attention to all 84 minutes of it, it is ultimately a rewarding film; one of the most rewarding I've seen in a while. Films are a visual medium and reliance on the other arts (such as the script) can often deter from what pure film can do. Through beautiful cinematography, camera angles and compositions, Davies gives a portrait of childhood more heartbreaking and affecting than most I've seen. Every shot melts into the next one with such precision, it's as if poetry is being written with a camera. Music flows through the film with the same precision, creating a profound emotional effect in every scene. Though the acting is minimal, the mother and Bud (Marjorie Yates and Leigh McCormack) are faultless. Bud's childhood obviously mirrors the director's own life. He is a shy and sensitive boy who many don't understand (except for his family) and who is dismissed by many of his peers as a "fruit." Bud's possible blossoming homosexuality is handled very subtly. As a matter of fact, everything about this film is subtle, including his love of the movies which is rarely merely shown on the screen. Much of the film is suffused with bits of dialogue and songs from films, showing that this is a part of his life. Whenever Orson Welles' narration from The Magnificent Amberson's comes on, you feel warm contented, just as Bud seems to be. You feel certain that this boy will become a great filmmaker some day. And he did.

In 1950s Liverpool, Leigh McCormack lives in a Catholic world where school nurses disapprovingly search you head for nits, teachers send you to the headmaster for disobeying rules that you don't know, and other boys at the parochial school beat you up for no clear reason. His only refuge is his mother, Marjorie Yates, and the movie theater.

It's beautifully shot and lovingly produced, but like many movies of its type, it follows young McCormack, a passive fellow who accepts the world for what it is, and takes comfort only in beauty; there is no kindness. I can see why it received a 10-minute standing ovation at Cannes, and then went home without an award. McCormack is not a performer in his world, just an observer. Nonetheless, it is beautifully put together.