“That They May Face the Rising Sun is already lauded with accolades, and this text concurs with the acclaim. This film adaptation of John McGahern’s last novel by Pat Collins, which is set to open in cinemas this weekend, is unparalleled in accomplishment.
Following an advanced screening in Dublin a fortnight ago, Collins addressed the difficulties of shifting from tranquil, contemplative documentaries, which established his reputation, to the disparate requisites of an understated feature film. Nonetheless, it’s a misrepresentation to suggest That They May Face the Rising Sun is devoid of events. The narrative includes a marriage, a fatality, subtle ethical dilemmas, and the construction of a shed. However, the orthodox three-act structure coveted by Hollywood screenplay experts is admittedly absent.
The impression after his commentary that evening suggests Collins found liberation in the absence of a forceful storyline and, presumably, has no desire to experience it in future ventures. This premise consequently raises the issue of whether there’s adequate room in contemporary filmmaking for methodologies and formulas that differ from the strict guidelines of the mainstream narrative, plagued with the convoluted processes involved in script progression, funding, and sales. The producers suggest that this was a challenging film to nurture and finalise, hence it’s debatable whether a similar enterprise, devoid of the prestigious literary underpinning, would have successfully navigated its way to the screen.
Undoubtedly, narratives hold value in our existence. They are our principal medium for interpreting an unpredictable, ostensibly purposeless cosmos. They are our constant. Yet, it appears our society is inundated with narratives. Major corporations invest heavily in creating and promoting narratives to convince consumers of their significance beyond being mere financial institutions or telecommunication firms. Politicians are nonentities without them. Even the claim that every society is entitled to “narrate its own story” manipulates culture into a blunt ideological weapon that frequently obscures as much as it clarifies.
Reflecting on Take That’s performance in Dublin, Gary Barlow was left questioning the decision to include stairs in the stage set up, as the band transported their audience back in time with a spectacular display.
Richard Gadd, notable for his role in “Baby Reindeer”, portrayed the real-life narrative inherent in the show by asserting that people often fear admitting their errors. Parul Sehgal, in her New Yorker piece, discussed the “tyranny of the tale” in the previous year. She emphasised how narratives often obscure the truth, it is essentially a process of selecting bits and pieces, amplifying some details, and suppressing others. This arbitrary shaping of reality can be equated to wielding power. Renowned scholar Hayden White described this process as ’emplotment,’ signifying how experiences are manipulated within hard and fast narrative structures.
Sehgal stressed that the potentially hazardous allure of story has been openly criticised by thinkers like Plato and Hannah Arendt. Modernist literature largely seeks to confront the inherent temptations of narrative. This progression is visible in cinema history too. Cinema, perceived by the modernists as the art form best equipped for their pursuits, has always balanced an striving avant-garde and commercial mainstream. The zenith of European art cinema occurred more than a generation past, leading to a backlash caustically criticising its perceived disregard for viewers.
The notion that film could go beyond mere storytelling found its home in art galleries. However, this transition seemed to overlook a broader perception of the art of film, which goes significantly beyond delivering a straightforward narrative. Films are primarily a visual form; the amalgamation of light, movement, montage and sound contributes to its unique and inherent power.
Stanley Kubrick, the celebrated director, asserted that a film aligns more with music than with fictional storytelling. It should evolve through moods and emotions, with the underlining theme and deeper meanings revealed later on.
Indeed, a more fitting depiction of the collected impact on the spectators while viewing ‘That They May Face the Rising Sun’ would be hard to find. The audio of chirping birds in a rustic path, the boisterous energy at a wedding, prayers of the rosary for a deceased resident; in a majority of Irish movies from the previous many years, these scenes would carry an inherent implication for what they signify for the main characters at the movie’s conclusion. Yet, under Collins’s direction, these moments gain an etherial essence, a lament for a vanishing era and for minor deeds of generosity. And subtly, it embodies a refusal of the constraints of traditional storytelling.