An epic story of love, loss and the land that inspired it all.
The daughter of a Scottish farmer comes of age in the early 1900s.
The daughter of a Scottish farmer comes of age in the early 1900s.
A Canção do Pôr do Sol, Песен по залез слънце, Ένα τραγούδι για το ηλιοβασίλεμα, Naplemente, Песнь заката
Every new Terence Davies film feels like a miracle, in no small part because most of them are. Not even Terry Gilliam has had such a tough time of shepherding projects to the screen. Davies' style has alienated him to most financiers, his shame has alienated him from many queer critics and his nature has denied him the reverent mystique that clings to other auteurs who make films at the same rate — Davies has been butchered for many of the same qualities that make Terrence Malick a holy cow. He's now 70 years old, and each of his successfully completed films arrives like a merciful act of the God to whom Davies no longer speaks.
Never has that been…
An invigorating blend of old and new, both challenging and dynamic, uniquely sweet and sorrowful, Sunset Song deserves to be celebrated. This film has a soul, a deeply felt emotional core that reveals itself over the course of Davies well earned two hour run time. He employs formalist techniques; perfect symmetry, painterly landscapes and overtly authentic interiors, and blends them seamlessly with fresh and vibrant postmodernist touches. The wind, birds, mud and crickets provide a soaring score; the subtlety underpinning every line of dialogue, every dramatic quarrel is swiftly emphasized by their smallness relative to the sweeping landscapes. Davies' core idea is something I haven't seen since Westerns of old, the awareness of consistency, of the eternal. People, their relationships,…
the patriarchy... not great imo
"He could fair play, the piper, he tore at your heart marching there with the tune leaping up the moor and echoing across the loch . . . " ~Lewis Grassic Gibbon
Terence Davies, filmmaker, piper.
At the center of Terence Davies’s new film, Sunset Song, adapted from Lewis Grassic Gibbon’s 1932 book of the same title, is a wedding. It is a modest affair, a barn for its stage, humble farming folk its participants. It is a celebration of love, a communal joyful gathering, a candle-bright warm pocket in the middle of a dark, snowy New Year’s Eve. And when the bride, Chris Guthrie (Agyness Deyn), sees the barn, prepared by her friends, she says, delighted, “It is like a picture book.” And it is.
In the midst of the merriment, the company calls for a song from the bride, and she sits at their center and sings. It is a sunset song, glowing in…
Indeed it is terribly disappointing. Tonally, this is all over the place, jumping from moments of grandeur and literate beauty to heavy-handed family drama. The Q&A with Davies was helpful in illuminating how many of the great moments in here were conscious, and seeing how truly passionate he is about the source material makes me wish that his intentions were only more deftly realised.
Like a Scottish Tarkovsky
I started watching this late at night, not sure what to expect, with Terrence Davies’s films known to me more by reputation than from personal viewing. What struck me immediately was the film’s visual beauty. The opening shot of Chris (Agyness Deyn) lying in a field of golden wheat was reminiscent of Terrence Malick; and throughout, the panoramic exteriors of northern Scotland shot by cinematographer Michael McDonough had the feel of a western – fittingly, perhaps, given the emphasis that the film places on the ties between the land and the people that inhabit it. On the morning before she marries, Chris reflects on the temporary nature of her place in this world and concludes that “only the land goes…
This movie is great. Great directing from Terence Davies
Terence Davies you sentimental bastard, I love you so much!
Ce serait une chanson bien triste s'il n'y avait pas cette star cultivant la lumière de sa maison. Avec son sourire radieux et son regard passionné du haut de sa grande figure élancée qui risque de s'échouer sous le poids des hommes, elle hérite sans doute miraculeusement des avoirs d'un père qui n'a que pour obsession de plier le monde à sa vision. Peut-être est-ce un miracle cinématographique, un rêve d'un monde possible que Chris (elle souhaite qu'on l'appelle par son nom et non pas par des attributs sociaux dès la mort de son père), imagine à même la maison du père alors que son frère préfère le confronter et fuir vers une autre vie (ce n'est pas nécessairement montré…
Terence Davies stamps his own distinctive directorial style on this very fine adaptation of Lewis Grassic Gibbon's 1932 novel that follows the trials of heroine Chris (Agyness Deyn) to womanhood in rural Scotland. The drama is often grim, but Davies balances it with beautiful scenes of pastoral life worthy of Terrence Malick. Among the cast, Peter Mullan is outstanding as a father every bit as terrifying as the one he played in his own film NEDS.
Director Terence Davies Makes His Most Profoundly Gay Film.
Meet the men and woman of Sunset Song.
“You’d make a find lad, Chris” a mother kids her tall, strong-backed daughter Christine in Sunset Song. But Sunset Song isn’t about gender confusion or fluidity. Gay director Terence Davies (The Long Day Closes) beautifully appreciates what all genders have in common and so has made a film that is a deeply moving masterpiece of empathy. The heterosexual story of Christine Guthrie (Agyness Deyn) growing up in rural Scotland just before World War I, defying her brutish father and marrying ardent Scotsman Ewan (Kevin Guthrie), who looks up to her yet fulfills her romantic needs, is not just universal. It benefits from the…
This review may contain spoilers. I can handle the truth.
A bully of a father, rape, suicide and yet more rape, it's no wonder I couldn't watch this to the end. Just endless torment and depressing as hell. So not the kind of movie you want to watch on a wet and windy winter's day.
I'm actually amazed it gets such good reviews. Maybe I'm just a light and fluffy girl at heart.
Sunset Song es una película de oro: el de los campos de cebada; el del fuego que quema los rastrojos, ilumina en las velas y calienta en los hogares; el de las cortinas de luz que irrumpen a través de las ventanas. El oro del atardecer.
Leer el resto de la crítica en lacuevadechauvet.com/y-el-olor-de-la-tierra-en-la-cara-casi-la-hizo-llorar/
Movie Maestro 3,377 films
[after his parents have left, thinking he is ill] "They bought it. Incredible! One of the worst performances of my…
MundoF 11,200 films
The last few years have not only brought LGBTQ+ films and stories further into the mainstream, but queer films have…