Delius Redux Pt 1: That odd feeling you get....

(High on himself: Delius remembers and listens)

If our son decides not to nap then I usually put on dvd from the Ken Russell at the BBC box set; usually Elgar. He then gets to absorb some culture with me as I reach for a 2:00pm cup coffee. Reading more about the making of "Delius: Song of Summer" in Joesph Lanza's book, I re-watched it today and have thus far found my most uncomfortable moment in a Ken Russell film. Why it's effects eluded me previously I have no idea. I think as I digest and learn more about Ken Russell the artist I'm simply seeing and feeling more.

For me there are so far only two uncomfortable moments in Ken's work both of which I'll discuss here. Prior to this it was only the homage to Luchino Visconti's "Death in Venice" in Mahler that concerned me. An ailing Mahler (Robert Powell) looks out the window with a beautific and optimistic look on his face as an older man looks lovingly at a young boy preening around the platform. It just weirds the hell out of me. I think because I was so much older looking for my age when I was 9 to 12ish and had a great deal of adults checking me out that it hits some kind of note in my memory.  The tallest kid always is blamed first. Stared and accosted I was, sometimes with avarice and sometimes with longing and disgustingly with lust. Anonymous adults in public places were like the zombies of my childhood. Thus the platform scene in Mahler  is just simply too visceral.

The in scene Delius: Song of Summer which now eclipses it just smacks for how becoming an adult (and therefore leadened down with so much shit in one's psyche) dictates life. In the scene, Fenby (Christopher Gable) and Jelka all react in their own silent and stunned way as they play Delius' own music for him. It fills and then floods a beautiful sunny room with afternoon light and passionate energy. The composer, despite being paralysed and blind, acts like he's either going to have an orgasm or cry out that he is the Master God of the universe for all eternity as he he sits listening. Many film historians incorrectly state that apart from the trip to Norway sequence (when he is still with his sight) the only time we see Delius with open eyes is when he has finally died. Incorrect. In this scene his eyes are wide open like he's possessed, stunned and most of all incandescent within the knowledge, the UNDYING BELIEF that he is a great artist. It simply makes me uncomfortable that he's so high on himself.

I'm simply too uncomfortable with mortality to not look away.

Anyone else remember Father Russell ?

(I guess you could say NSFW but actually it really is very tame. Still, the mood and theme would most likely offend your curious tattle tail workmate frenemies far more than actual porn would)

Fenby has had to navigate through his new part within the script of Delius's life and he's trying to get back to "Catholic base camp." Watch Gables' Fenby carefully. He comes into the Cathedral like he's co-owner. He's been so patient with the angry blind atheist genius yet he's back where he belongs, albeit for only a few moments. For the life of me I can't figure out if Ken is speaking Latin, talking dirty or simply making indecipherable sounds on purpose while he's "on the job" as they say in the East End. The sound quality is sharp and recalls listening through a wall and wondering what is going. Is that two people having sex or just talking? Both? Neither?

Like the evil Circe woman earlier in the forest, Ken's fancy woman is mysterious with a mean edge (she did just get pre-empted after all). She dashes off, her wooden heels echoing. At 00:40 Ken Russell rises from the floor, business as usual, and we see evidence of his late but dedicated Ballet training. His priestly bearing is actually that of an older, mirror image of Fenby's posture and attitude. Fenby doesn't flinch but he's simmering with cross resignation. Nowhere in Delius's bohemian forest is really safe for a Catholic boy from Yorkshire but he goes through the motions.

Fenby has to keep it bottled, he signed on after all.


I found this last night and feel it goes with this post despite being unrelated to Ken's work. "Don't Pinch Me Padre" written by Joe Fitz this song uses photo images to look back at a time of innocence and the effect of the Vatican child abuse sex crimes on his song writing.