The Awakening Directed by Nick Mur phy Starring Rebecca Hall, D o m i n i c We s t , I m e l d a S t a u n t o n Released November 11
his is a time for ghosts’, states the text that opens Nick Murphy’s The Awakening. That time is 1921. War and influenza have killed millions and left survivors haunted.The text is a citation (complete with authenticating reference) from the book Seeing Through Ghosts by one Florence Cathcart, who will turn out to be the film’s protagonist. And so The Awakening has already begun the strange dance of fact and fiction that will later continue at an isolated boarding school where – amidst boyish pranks and staged frights – eternal truths about trauma, guilt and loss are allowed to peek through. We first meet Florence (Rebecca Hall) engaged in her own masquerade, sneaking into a London séance to debunk proceedings.Yet as she exposes the fraudulent spiritualist’s bag of tricks with all the forensic acumen of a ghostbusting Sherlock Holmes, the sequence also reveals
a truth about the human need to believe. Florence takes on a new case at a Cumbrian school said to be haunted by the ghost of a boy murdered there decades earlier, and more recently the scene of another boy’s death. Armed with scientific apparatus and her own deductive powers, she quickly sees through the ghosts to a more rational explanation. But then, after the schoolboys have headed home for Christmas, she stays on, alone but for war-scarred schoolmaster Robert Mallory (Dominic West), matron Maud (Imelda Staunton), vacation boarder Tom (Isaac Hamsptead-Wright) and war-shirking caretaker Judd (Joseph Mawle). Except that there are others, too, lurking in these corridors, if only Florence could see what is before her eyes. Everything about this classic ghost story is assured, from the performances to the period
detail, from the time-layered locations to the bleached-out palette – all held together by an exquisitely crafted screenplay that carefully sets up satisfying twists while retaining a haunting ambiguity to the end. Anton Bitel
Anticipation. T h e s e
days (non-Spanish) ghost stories invite scepticism.
Enjoyment.
“ D o n ’ t l o o k a w a y. Yo u m u s t n ’ t l o o k a w a y.”
In Retrospect. A n e l e g a n t l y constructed masquerade, but its haunting sadness rings true.
The British Guide to Showing Off Directed Starring Andrew Released
by Jes Benstock B r i a n E n o, Logan, Richard O'Br ien November 11
erhaps the most interesting moment in Jes Benstock’s likeable portrait of the Alternative Miss World pageant – an outsider art spectacle of chaotic counter-culture and cross-dressing devised by artist Andrew Logan – comes in its closing movement, as a young Nigerian approaches the organisers. Dismissed for missing the point (“She rang up saying she wanted to represent Nigeria... I said we don’t do that”), Miss Nigeria nevertheless arrives: a young man with scars on his body from persecution in his homeland. After performing, he’s singled out backstage, told that he was “fabulous” and responds with a wet-eyed beam of gratitude. It’s a testament to Benstock’s direction that he's managed to express the irrepressibly benevolent heart of his subject while keeping such moments of social commentary a potent minority.
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Conceived by Logan in 1972 and running intermittently ever since, the pageant functions as an open-entry bad-taste drag spectacular, sometimes inverting the survivalof-the-prettiest body politik of the original Miss World, sometimes settling for pure, pleasurable anarchy. Contributors and fans include Derek Jarman (one-time winner of the event as Miss Crêpe Suzette), Brian Eno and David Bowie. Benstock’s film traces the 2009 pageant from organisation to fruition, blending fly-on-thewall footage with archive film, talking heads (including Eno and Jarman) and pleasing Gilliamesque animation that echoes the hotch-potch aesthetic of the pageant. Star-of-the-show Logan is described variously as an Egyptian high priest and a naughty auntie, and appears to be an unsung national treasure –
a man who rejected Andy Warhol’s advice on how to achieve commercial success, and a throwback to ’60s subversion still politely offering a titillating space for his patrons to peel off their layers of societal constraint and wallow in cathartic taboo. If the event is a fraction as charming as Benstock’s film, it deserves to move just a little closer to the mainstream’s radar. Christopher Neilan
Anticipation.
Outsider art dress-up? No thank you, darling.
Enjoyment. Oh, go on then.
In Retrospect. H o w a b s o l u t e l y bloody mar vellous.