O Fim de um Longo Dia

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.

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.

A sad and lonely boy, Bud (Leigh McCormack) struggles through his days. With cinema as his main source of solace, he haunts the local movie-house. All the while, his family looms large in our peripheral vision as do the menacing bullies of his school, but Bud is the center of attention both from the camera's angle and from his doting family.

This is a love letter to film, with plenty of classic film references and an endless soundtrack of classic music. The story itself is not important, other than for us to realize that movies offer us an escape no matter how dreary our lives may be.

Most of us, thankfully, do not live as sad an existence as Bud. But most of us love movies to a greater or lesser degree and have a favorite that we can dive into when times are bad.

This is one of the most beautiful movie I ever seen. This is a masterpiece of intelligence and cinematography. Splendid camera work and a brillant integration of music and bit of spoken words. It also captures the essence of childhood. It's simply pure poetry. Remember that films are made to be seen: in early days, it was moving pictures. Here we have that essence: we see pictures. No need to listen, no need of dialogues : just pictures, as beautiful as a painting, as photography. I'm very happy that the other viewers loves this film. But I'm a little bit sad to see that it just got 6 or something out of 10 votes. See it again and again. Taste it a lot of times.

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".