Don't Look Now at the Norwich Film Festival

Don't look now, but come November the Norwich Film Festival arrives, with its usual focus on short films, but also showcasing feature films, 35mm screenings and live accompaniment. The festival starts on the 6th of November with a series of comedy shorts, but squeezed in before then was a Halloween teaser, and arguably a jewel in the festival's crown.

I've seen Don’t Look Now countless times, the passing years ticked off as reissued formats and versions demanded serial purchases. The one format I've never experienced is on the big screen, however, properly projected from a 35mm print. The film, sourced from the BFI by Head of Production Joe Bird, was in fairly good nick, the muted colour balance just right for the chilly Venice in which the story takes place. As was mentioned in the Q&A that followed, this is no small point, with recent upscaling draining all subtlety from the cinematography. Whole essays have been written on just how red the red should be, such is the reverence in which the film is held. Back in the early eighties. the BBC persuaded Roeg himself to trim the notorious sex scene, such was their keenness to broadcast a film that had already garnered the reputation of a classic.

So is it the best horror film ever made? Is it even a horror film? Some might say The Wicker Man takes that title, a film that supported Roeg's masterpiece when it was first shown in the early 70s. Imagine coming out of the cinema after that head-spinning double bill. Then there is The Exorcist, Psycho and Joe Bird's favourite, The Texas Chain Saw Massacre. It's a tricky one, and perhaps there isn't much to be gained from a hierarchy. Afer all, both Network and Taxi Driver failed to win a Best Picture Oscar because they happened to be up against Rocky. A better test is when films, such as 12 Angry Men or Galaxy Quest, so exactly achieve their ambition. Don't Look Now assuredly passes that test, its meticulous plotting and cunning misdirection leading us up the path towards one of the all-time greatest shocks in cinema.

Sutherland and Christie are both excellent as a loving couple, cleaved apart by the death of their daughter, one of them cleaving to rational logic, the other to spiritual hope. It makes for a slow-burning, heady brew that situates it securely within a host of grown-up, emotionally complex, character-driven films of the 70s. The likes of The Parallax View, The Conversation and The Tenant really don't get made any more, and one can't imagine Don't Look Now being made today by a mainstream studio. It's not a period piece, exactly, but it does favour mood over momentum, something a member of the audience described as testing his patience. He also found the ending harrowing. Fans of the film would do well to remember this is a film that manipulates expectation and delivers a sucker punch at the end. Matthew Holness pointed out in the Q&A afterwards that there is always something new to see in repeat viewings, but it seems to me there's a danger in cherishing a film designed around a big reveal. I found myself ticking off scene after scene, marvelling at Roeg's skill, but afterwards reflected that it is easy to lose sight of the impact intended the first time around.

The Q&A that followed was more fun than informative, but fun is something that shouldn’t be easily dismissed. Matthew Holness came up with ever more preposterous theories, undercut by Justin John Doherty’s insistence (in fairness, Daphne du Maurier’s) that it was just a yarn. I imagine the truth lies somewhere in between, but the film’s transposition from summer to winter, and from meningitis to drowning, certainly carved out a unique vision that makes this one of the most striking films of the seventies.