The 83-year-old Briton, David Puttnam, found himself delayed near Hazelhatch in Kildare, rather than being at the Westbury off Dublin’s Grafton Street as planned. As an old-school gentleman from London, Puttnam, who now resides in west Cork, was quick to apologise for his tardiness, a trait uncommon among Oscar winners and heads of Hollywood film productions and members of the House of Lords like him.
Living full-time at a beautifully renovated residence along the Ilen river between Skibbereen and Baltimore from 2019, David and his wife, Patsy, have used it as a frequent holiday hideaway since the Easter of 1990. Puttnam’s generous praises for Ireland and his amicable nature have endeared him to the Irish, sharing the position of Ireland’s most-loved Englishman with fellow west Cork inhabitant, actor Jeremy Irons.
In the upcoming documentary, David Puttnam: The Long Road Home, by Edel O’Mahony, set to air next Thursday on RTÉ One at 10.15pm, Puttnam recounts his life experiences, touching upon his marriage, his exceptional career, the loss of his father, Leonard, and becoming an Irish citizen. Leonard’s passing, which happened just before the release of ‘Chariots of Fire,’ has only deepened the bond between father and son over time.
Puttnam fondly remembers his father, consciously or unconsciously portraying him as an embodiment of an enriching life. As he sips on his cup of tea, there’s a saddening hitch in his voice, barely covered by the clinking teaspoon, as he regards his father to have been an honourable man. His father’s distinguishing characteristic was his persistent quest for fairness in every discourse. He frequently used and truly believed in the concept of ‘fairness’.
Puttnam, who was a Labour member of the House of Lords from 1997, resigning in 2021 in agreement with his earlier standpoint on peers stepping down at the age of 80, comments rather cynically on the diminishing usage of the term ‘fair’ in the current lexicon.
A testament to his father’s remarkable life was his service as a photographer in the British army during WWII. He was the sole man to be twice evacuated from the Dunkirk shores in 1940, as he was ordered to return to capture victorious images rather than the calamitous scenes his initial film rolls depicted. As Puttnam recalls, the disappointing initial images were disregarded for cheerful images of soldiers with tea mugs, which were the only ones ever used.
Puttnam looked up to his father, who was also known to photograph commando raids, a daunting task considering he was the only unarmed individual there. While the documentary depicts Puttnam’s tender bond with his father, it brings to light his strained relationship with his Jewish mother, Rose. Born during the peak of the Blitz in February 1941, Puttnam also shares some heartfelt words about film director Alan Parker, describing him like a missed brother whose absence he feels intensely.
Puttnam recounts in the documentary his difficult relationship with his staunchly Tory mother, who was an avid reader of the Daily Mail. While acknowledging he could have been a more attentive son, Puttnam confesses that conversations with her would have proven challenging. The documentary also provides a look into Puttnam’s emphasis on the significance of masculine bonds in his filmmaking. His films often display male camaraderie, as seen in ‘Local Hero’ featuring Scottish townsfolk and the Memphis Belle B17 crew.
However, there is a single exception – 1984’s ‘Cal’, where Helen Mirren takes the integral female role. In the film, she portrays a widow of a slain RUC officer, who oddly falls for a young man involved in her husband’s murder. Puttnam expresses gratitude towards Edel O’Mahony for pointing out that his movies unintentionally reveal aspects of himself – a realisation which Puttnam admits, has become clearer with time and was not as apparent during his initial years of filmmaking.
Puttnam admits his films mainly focus on men because he understands the dynamics of male friendships and their interactions, admitting to be clueless about how women converse. He dismisses the idea of him editing a script featuring two women in conversation as absurd. His emphasis on male connections is further illustrated when he speaks affectionately about his long-time friend, Alan Parker. Parker mentored Puttnam into the film industry, urging him to pen a film script while they were coworkers in advertising. Similarly, Puttnam persuaded Parker to explore directing. Referring to Parker, who passed away from a heart condition after enduring a prolonged sickness, as the sibling he never had, Puttnam poignantly mentions how he misses him severely.
In his always quiet voice, tinged with a firm resolve, Puttnam tells of a conversation ended by the tragic loss of a friend, his words full of remorse. “We were engrossed in our chat and suddenly, the connection was cut off. He swiftly composed a message to me expressing his disappointment, saying, ‘Oh dear, we had so many topics left to chat about’. That turned out to be his last words to me, he passed away the following day,” recounts Puttnam, his face reflecting his anguish.
A chat with Puttnam inevitably revolves around his adoration for west Cork and Ireland, his despondency about his birthplace in the aftermath of Brexit, alongside his ceaseless affection for his wife, Patsy. Sometimes, one might perceive Puttnam as being overly appreciative of everything concerning Ireland, but his judgement isn’t devoid of criticism even though his tendency is to lean heavily towards generosity.
Puttnam dearly associates with Skibbereen as his neighbourhood and therefore tries to stay oblivious to anything damaging. “There is an abundance of goodness everywhere, so I try to overlook any negativity. And the negativity? It stems from the local political scene that occurs, which is genuinely sad,” he conveys. He goes on to criticise the town councillors, whom he considers incompetent.
The discourse briefly veers towards Brexit and the ‘fabrications’ dished out to him in the House of Lords by those championing it, without being aware of the likely adverse aftermath. Attempting to tread lightly, he picks ‘pig ignorant’ as an apt description instead of uttering outright ‘liars’ within the chamber.
Returning to the topic of the west Cork councillors, he criticises their ineptitude, stating, “I try my best to disregard them, having witnessed incompetence on a much grander scale,” he says with a hearty laugh. “Their inefficiencies simply don’t compare to the incompetences I have encountered.”
The unsuccessful local attempt in stopping the production of nurdles, the preliminary stage in the manufacture of any plastic product, bothers Puttnam considerably. Specifically frustrating is the fact that people yet lament the loss of 10 employment opportunities, completely overlooking the potential environmental harm and associated job losses triggered by the activity.
Puttnam recognises that Britain frequently longs for its imperialistic “golden era,” but notes that Ireland’s history of colonisation has resulted in a society which typically looks for loopholes or “workarounds” in the system. He’s coined this behavioural pattern as “If not strong, one must be cute,” but he warns that this mindset can come at a cost to the society. This trend, Puttnam argues, could breed an environment that is characterised as insincere.
Speaking on the Stardust inquiry, Puttnam questions why it took an extended period for the families affected to receive public justification and for Edward Butterly, the property owner, to be rebuked.
When it comes to anti-immigrant politics in Ireland, Puttnam particularly criticises Nigel Farage. He belives Farage and others are unashamedly using the race issue for electoral gains. Puttnam says this is deplorable.
He counters accusations of the country being unsympathetic, claiming he has witnessed numerous acts of kindness in West Cork. Puttnam also brings up the issue of immigration, arguing that the Irish were pioneers of the immigration experience, especially in America.
He expresses particular dislike for Independent Ireland TD Michael Collins of West Cork, who has been outspoken on immigration and who Southern Star recently reported as supporting the chemical castration of rapists.
In conclusion, he regretfully states that he no longer identifies with his native country.
Puttnam’s sentiment is clear—he believes individuals fail to realise the destination of their chosen path, a path with no alternative end. Regardless, he foresees Collins securing a victory in the imminent general election.
Puttnam casts aspersions on the UK for its lack of empathy, a trait he doesn’t believe Ireland shares. He frequently observes extraordinary acts performed by incredible people in West Cork which never cease to astound him.
“We possess this quality,” he asserts. “Unfortunately, our faith in improvisation and occasional reluctance to pursue excellence let us down.”
Yet, he chooses not to fixate on the negatives. Instead, the much greater weight is given to his affection for West Cork. Proud to be an Irish citizen, he fondly remembers the moment he committed his loyalty to the Irish nation—a pledge he did not take lightly, as a man who values his words.
In a delicate, unhurried documentary, Puttnam reflects with gratitude on his immensely successful life and career, exuding pride without arrogance.
Reflecting on his life, he humbly admits, “If I had the foresight to envision my life 50 years ago, it would have likely mirrored what it is now. However, it now seems to me, this is the finest chapter.”