Reviews

Very much a film of its time, from its post-hippie sentiments to Rosalind Cash's cool haircut, this is still a surprisingly moving apocalypse film with several set-pieces that have slipped into cult movie history. Robert Neville (Heston) plays chess with himself and floodlights his house, a liberal-conservative trapped in the past, desperate to pretend that the world hasn't ended, yet he watches reruns of 'Woodstock' until he knows all the words. His time is ending, and perhaps the new world will belong to the light-sensitive infected creatures who roam the city streets...

There's a thudding Christ-analogy at the end, but before that you get great shoot-outs, creepy deserted streets and a sensational score by English composer Ron Grainer, who sank bells in water to create it. And no-one but Heston can wipe a shirt under his sweaty arms and still look cool...

Russell's homage to the twenties has aged better than most of his films because the tone is so right. The orchestration is period-perfect, and the costumes (by Russell's then-wife, Shirley) are astounding. Likewise the amazing sets echo the designs of Clarice Cliff, Lucy Atwell and a host of others. Twiggy is that rare star, a model who made a great transition to film, and she's supported by a Who's Who cast of English performers, especially bad girl Antonia Ellis, who went on to star in the British stage version of 'Chicago'. To cap it all, the film works on three distinct levels, the backstage musical, the onstage drama and the fantasy version. Some lines have even become catchphrases. Sandy Wilson, the original show's author, wrote a sequel called 'Divorce Me, Darling', which parodied the thirties. Some prints are shown without the 'Woodland Pastoral' dance sequence.

I was living in London when this film opened, and it now seems an oddly accurate time capsule of the period, somewhere between trendy and tatty. Critics hated the film for trying to create a female Laurel and Hardy, but now it's the colours, the clothes and the attitude that seems right (although it's hard to forgive those helium-voiced gay stereotypes). Trivia note; the character names and places, pieced together, form most of the first verse of 'Jabberwocky', suggesting the intention to create a new Alice in Wonderland.

This is Peter Greenaway's most humane and enthralling feature, a visual tour-de-force which re-interprets Shakespeare's 'The Tempest' through the books of magic with which Prospero creates his realm. Sir John Gielgud gives a moving, heartfelt farewell performance in the title role, Michael Clarke is a sinuous, demonic Caliban, and Michael Nyman's score is fittingly triumphant. One sequence - the Masque - even turns the film into an opera.

Although the visuals are overloaded to a level of decadence rarely seen on film, it is always with a purpose. One quibble; Prospero's overlaying of his own voice on the characters makes some of the dialogue difficult to follow, especially if you are unfamiliar with the source material. The film demands to be seen on a wide screen.