LONDON, N. W. 6
25 May 1977
G E R M A N Y
I'm sure you are right to try to avoid
judging your neighbors. I also, I'm afraid, am over-prompt to make
judgements and 1 wish I knew how to restrain this impulse, but it's very
difficult. Of course, the more busy and productive one is oneself, the
less interested one is in other people's work, and so the less prompt to
make judgements about it.
Of course Pieter Stein is a remarkable talent, whether one happens to
enjoy any particular work of his or even his work generally - or not. I
certainly feel rather guilty to have made all those criticisms under the
impact of that production, because it is at least an extremely individual,
creative, work. and there aren't many directors who are capable of
producing such. 1 feel particularly vulnerable, having just opened my own
new production in the West End - the comedy THE KINGFISHER - about
which I may have written, before.
This new play is a very light,
entirely bourgeois comedy - though not without charm. A cast of three old
people; the two men are 74 and 71, and the heroine (the actress I mean)
68. The two leading players are very popular, loved and talented stars:
Ralph Richardson and Celie, Johnson. The play itself is by a strange,
rather nice, very prolific author, who has written some very successful
plays (mostly comedies) and also quite a lot of very unsuccessful plays.
He is generally derided by the intellectuals and regarded as the archetype
of superficial, irrelevant, reprehensible dramatists. THE KINGFISHER has a
lot of charm, and could have been an enjoyable, civilised exercise in
style. Unfortunately, the two stars, who have their own very expert and
long-tested methods of extracting applause have simply ended up giving
their own habitual performances - very well received by the public of
course, but having absolutely nothing to do with acting, as I can
recognise or like it.
You can probably imagine that this
makes me rather depressed and also makes me feel very insecure in my
criticisms of Herr Stein. I can only comfort myself by thinking that he would either
have been defeated by Ralph Richardson and Celia Johnson as
decisively as I was. Or perhaps he would not have got beyond the second or
third week of rehearsal. In any case, the play
seems to be at least a
commercial success and attracts a lot of tourists and moneyed upper-class
people. Ralph Richardson, particularly, is now like a much-loved,
rather grotesque museum piece: people like his eccentricities and as a
result he becomes more and more extravagant with them.
The expensive seats sell well. Nor do the actors particularly feel the
need to see their director, so I ought to be happy...
To tell the truth, I begin to wonder whether I really like "theatre" at
all. I realise more and more that what people like
is bad acting, at least "bad acting" by my standards. The only kind of
acting I like starts with absolute naturalness.
(I don't exactly mean naturalism). I cannot stand performance that do not
have inner reality, which demonstrate
instead of experiencing. (In other words the Royal Shakespeare style).
Nor, on the other hand, do I like acting
which enjoys too much its inner reality. This reality has to be refined
not indulged - and then presented. This quality
of "presentation" is extremely important, and raises the whole question of
style and it is here, I -suppose, that the influence of the director is
most necessary. Because it is extremely difficult for the actor to achieve
style or for a Company to achieve a corporate style without the objective
guidance and sensitivity of the director.
Yes, it is extremely interesting how
certain directors seems to influence their actors without ever saying a
great deal to them. I'm afraid I tend to talk too much, and so I never
understand the kind of director of whom their actors say "but he never
said anything to us".
Perhaps it is better not to have a
sense of humour. In fact I'm sure that must make survival easier. Easier
that is to believe in oneself. If one is a sceptic one starts by
disbelieving other people and ends by disbelieving oneself. Of course this
is easy here, where nobody believes in the art of theatre for its own
sake. Or should I say "for humanity's sake", without of course being,
The course of the play has not been
completely smooth. All the lights went out in Shaftesbury Avenue on
First Night, and we spent a war-like couple of hours wondering whether we
would be able to give the performance
- In the end the curtain went up two hours late, and I must say the old
actors all behaved with most gallant professionalism). Then Ralph
Richardson threatened to lose his voice, and now the "younger" man has
gone into hospital, and it may well be that I will have to find a
replacement. Apart from my general, neurotic incapacity, to displace
myself, this means that I can't leave London just now.
I'm glad I made a good impression on
0 LUCKY MAN! - and even more glad that the film seems to have made
a good impression on her. I have just finished replacing in it a
ten-minute section that was cut out by Warner Bros. in the original
release, as they felt it was too long. I am pleased to have it restored. I
have been thinking: I would like to make a sequel to that film - I have
the title, which would be THE FURTHER ADVENTURES OF MICK TRAVIS.
Naturally Nick Travis would not appear in it.
I will try to track down the book you
talk about - though I must say your indications are a bit vague.
My beat to you and Ilse. - Tell her
she is lucky to be working in such a flourishing, creative scene.
This Sporting Life
is a kitchen sink drama telling the story of a tragic love between rugby
player Frank Machin (Richard Harris), and widow Mrs Hammond (Rachel
Roberts). Frank Machin, an aggressive Yorkshire coal miner becomes a
local celebrity as a professional rugby player. Frank yearns for the
love of his landlady, Mrs. Hammond, a passionless widow, who eventually
has a physical relationship with Frank but refuses any emotional
involvement. Frank meanwhile remains the star of the rugby club', and as
long as he performs on the field, his waywardness is tolerated. Mrs.
Hammond eventually grows tired of Frank's callousness; they fight
terribly at the wedding of a friend and split up. Franks realises how
much he needs Rachel’s love and tries to patch things up, but tragedy
await his attempt at reconciliation. Finally, Frank is left only with
the violent world of rugby, in which he is only as good as his last
||Night Club singer
- letter thired dated on September
21, 1977 -
21 September 1977
c/o Ilse Ritter,
Zehlendorf, West Berlin,
I think you’re quite right in opposing my feelings about acting to the
tradition at the Royal Shakespeare Company, - in fact to the generally
"established" tradition in Britain at the moment. Or certainly in London.
It results, I think, from the victory of the Peter Hall tradition, coming
from Cambridge University and therefore very academic or "conceptual".
Hall, of course, developed the present Royal Shakespeare Company at
Stratford, started the Aldwych and now runs the National Theatre. This is
theatre without intuition, without emotion - but with a great deal of
bourgois pretension and
The theatre in England is vitiated - like most art - by the
inherited class system and class attitudes. Working class actors can
become successful now, but only at the price of making themselves
"respectable" and conforming to bourgeois standards. Albert Finney is a
perfect example. He preserves a certain superficial roughness of speech,
but has sacrificed his real abrasiveness and any real quality of emotion
he had. A perfect contemporary candidate for the mantle of Olivier.
(Arid now Albert Finney has
launched a dreadful album of songs, written and performed by himself. A
typical media-creation, which he plugs on radio and television in the U.S.
and this country. An ironic progression. I remember him coming to London
first, and rather self-consciously refusing to wear socks when he was
being photographed for Vogue magazine).
Thank you for your postcards, from
which I saw that you had returned safely to Poland. And now, apparently,
things are all right again with Ilse and you are going back to Berlin?
This must mean that things are going better - I hope so and am glad for
As for my not having my own group of
actors. Every successful theatre has always run on two people - a director
and a manager. Think of the Moscow Arts (with Stanislavsky and
Nemirovich-Danchenko) or the early Royal Court (with Granville-Barker and
his manager Vedrenne) or the American Group Theatre (which had the
advantage of three collaborating directors). I, unfortunately, have never
found a collaborating management, and I am not an ambitious politician,
like Peter Hall or Laurence Olivier! It's true that I do have good
relationships with actors, and it is among the actors that I have my
strongest supporters. But in our system that is not enough - particularly
when one's approach is unfashionable, without being startlingly
revolutionary. Really, I was very lucky to find an opportunity to direct
theatre in the late fifties and early sixties at the Royal Court. If
George Devine hadn’t existed there, I’m sure I would never have gone into
the theater at all. There would certainly not have been a place for me in
the Peter Hall tradition.
As you know, the situation in
Britain has declined badly in the last five years. That is why I find
myself very much at a loose end. It's a pity you weren't able to be in
London a few years earlier. I think you would have enjoyed the experience
of some of those later David Storey productions.
I've seen a couple of productions
at the National Theatre recently and found them generally dull if not
offensive. I saw John Schlesinger's JULIUS CAESAR, a dreadful piece of
work, with no feeling for either drama or character. The poor actors
suffered terribly - including John Gielgud-~who really did nothing except
I wi11 probably go to the U.S. in
the autumn - I've been invited to a Festival in Chicago, where they are
going to show some of my w1ork. Luite boring really, but an excuse to get
away and spend a Little time in New York. Probably I will also go to
Hollywood and have a look round there. I don't really want to do a film in
America and probably I haven't the right temperament to take advantage of
it, but it's always amusing to see for a little. I read scripts, both of
plays and films, but nothing really attracts me seriously.
It's always difficult to help
people from childhood to adulthood. Ilse is lucky that you want to think
of her as a woman and not as a child. I hope your relationship goes well,
for both your sakes. I'm sure she helps you to be less neurotic!
I had a short "retrospective" of my films at the National Film Theatre
recently. Quite respectful and unenthusiastic. It all felt like a
I'm sorry I have no more
stimulating news from London. I hope the Berlin atmosphere is more
Meanwhile - to you and Ilse both -
my very best wishes,
the Britannia Hospital,
which celebrates its 500th anniversary, the Queen Mother and the Japanese
ambassador are to open the new Millar Centre for Advanced Surgical Science,
partly funded by Banzai Chemicals of Tokyo. The celebration is, however,
disturbed by industrial action, broken-down telecommunications and fierce
demonstrations against the African dictator Ngami (Val Pringle) who is a
private patient. Further, there are the disturbances caused by police
violence and Professor Millar's disastrous experiments with human corpses.
Anderson directly relates the characters of the film to the audience. At the
end, demonstrators, striking workers, royalty, police, hospital managers,
all gather to experience Millar's demonstration of 'Genesis’, the new man
consisting of a human brain situated in a pyramid-shaped computer. They are
positioned as in a cinema, voyeuristically enjoying the spectacle, at least
partly representing the 'real' audience of Britannia Hospital."
"The question posed at the end of the film is
'Is man intelligent enough to survive?' The speech concluding the film is
not sentimental; it's much more the speech of an angry rationalist who is
appalled and irritated by the stupidity of mankind. He proposes that the
only solution is intelligence. But, of course, having made this speech,
which most people would agree with, he then proposes a solution that is even
crazier and more horrifying than anything the establishment represents. He
produces the idea of a disembodied intelligence, this brain we see, which he
tells us will be combined into a silicon chip. So, the challenge at the end
is a question, If only intelligence can save us how can that intelligence be
controlled? The film does say, I hope, that we must mistrust institutions,
power, the instincts for power within us, and in that way I think
Britannia Hospital is an anarchist film. It puts the responsibility
squarely on the individual to develop first the intelligence and the moral
awareness by which alone man can control his destiny".
||Chief Superintendant Johns
|Marsha A. Hunt
||Nurse Amanda Persil
||Sammy/Voice of Genesis
||Sir Anthony Mount
|John Gordon Sinclair
- letter fourth
dated on November 29, 1978 -
(Ditated) NEW YORK)
29 November 1978 West German Republic
Thank you for your greetings. And mine to you. As you can see ‑ I am
working abroad just now: a production in
of THE KINGFISHER, which I already directed in London last year. And next a
production in Australia of THE BED BEFORE YESTERDAY, which I already
directed in London two (or three?) years ago ... Not a very creative programme, I'm afraid. I tell myself: this brings to an end my "commercial
I'm afraid I
have become quite bored with the theatre in England. No new plays that I
really like ‑ unhappily my favourite author, David Storey, is not writing
good plays at the moment, and is suffering (like everyone else in Britain)
from a kind of creative frustration. I was invited to direct GALILEO at the
Nationa Theatre ‑ with Albert Finney and I nearly accepted, but at the last
moment my heart failed me. I dislike that building, and the people in it, so
much. And when I read the play again, it seemed to me forced and schematic.
And not particularly relevant to our time and our problems. Was I wrong?
Also they wanted me to work with the National Theatre "Company", which meant
Peter Hall's choice not mine. And they seemed to me an unexciting bunch,
including Albert Finney, who has been acting badly ever since he started at
the National, I'm sorry to say. His HAMLET was very disappointing ‑ of
course he should not be playing Hamlet but Claudius ‑ and I didn't see his
TAMBURLAINE. Then THE CHERRY ORCHARD, which was really a lamentable
production all together by Peter Hall, and most recently a disappointing
MACBETH. It is sad when you think that he was undoubtedly the most promising
talent of his generation.
Then I was
asked to do a new play by David Mercer, for the Royal Shakespeare Company at
the Aldwych. Again a group of actors I am not particularly enthusiastic
about. And I thought the play, which was supposed to be of some political
significance (about a corrupt Russian dissident who arrives in London) was
very poor. But then how could anybody in Britain be expected to write a
political play of any European, let alone world, significance?
So perhaps you
won't be surprised that I have ended up reviving two previous productions in
America and Australia.
I tell myself
that after this rather anti‑climactic theatrical activity, I must try to
make another film. And indeed I have agreed to attempt to "develop" a couple
of subjects for a Hollywood company. But it is extremely difficult ‑
although they say they are theoretically ready to undertake British
I know very well that they are much more favourable towards projects that
can find favour with American audiences. And who can blame them? The British
should be making their own films, but of course the chief British finance
now goes into American productions ‑ like STAR WARS, or Ryan O'Neal in THE
DRIVER or Robert de Niro in THE DEER-HUNTER. it's a shame that you chose to
come to Britain just about the time when British post-war vitality petered
out. Now, as you probably know, even The Times has ceased publication. And
that really means the end of an era.
I leave New York for Australia next Thursday, the day after the
official "Opening" of THE KINGFISHER, and the next Monday I
start rehearsals for THE BED
with my friend Rachel Roberts (whom you may remember from THIS SPORTING LIFE or 0 LUCKY MAN!). So I shall be spending
Christmas in the sun, I hope on an Australian beach somewhere. And maybe I
will return to London by way of Indonesia or Sri‑Lanka, or India.
I leave New York for Australia next Thursday, the day after the offivial
"Opening" of THE KINGFISHER, and the next Monday I start
rehearsals for THE BED BEFORE YESTERDAY, with my friend Rachel Roberts (whom
you may remember from
I may even make a pilgrimage to my birthplace (Bangalore, South India).
I'm glad you
found stimulus and some satisfaction in Germany. Even if all your questions
have not been answered. (But then I doubt if you have the kind of
temperament that will ever find complete satisfaction in anything). Anyway,
I certainly think you were lucky not to have been able to return to Britain
when you wanted to. Undoubtedly you have had a much more fulfilling time in
And good luck
to you too in 1979
O Lucky Man!,
Once again Malcolm McDowell plays Michael
Travis, who comes face to face with an even more troubled society than in
If. . .
Here, he has become a conformist, caught up in rigid philosophies - either
it is the petty bourgeois dreams of success or the naïve altruism of
existential humanism. Anderson himself claimed in his preface to the
published manuscript that Travis was 'an organic development from that
work of five years ago'.
Interrogator/Jenkins/Salvation Army Major
- letter fourth dated
on March 14 1979 -
My dear Slawek,
Yest“Absurd is beautiful when we find the way how to be with him…”(in
fact you wrote “finden" – I have taken the liberty of turning it into
English, of a kind).
I’m afraid your English has not improved as a result of your stay in
Germany ‑ but that is only natural. I would certainly be happy to think
that my "Pessimismus” is exaggerated or unjustifiable. Of course all these
emotions are very subjective. And I agree that in acme ways a country that
is disintegrating should be quite pleasant to live in. But perhaps no" in
modern life when a are all so dependent on decent technological
organisation. Of course if we were living in the country, planting
potatoes and milking cows, it would be different. But it would be
difficult to work in the theatre or in such conditions.
The problem with Britain at the moment is that it refuses to disintegrate
in an exciting way, and is also incapable of pulling itself together. So
everything just winds down, in an atmosphere of increasing scepticism and
increasing bourgeois complacency.
wish you could have seen my most recent work, which was a piece for
television, based an a script by a writer called Alan Bennett, who is an
eccentric rather mild‑mannered humorist. The "film”(though it was shot on
video) which I made from his script was not exactly mild‑mannered. But of
course it was humorous, and anyone with any feeling for European culture
would have found it amusing.(A sort of combined influence from Bunuel and
Brecht, if you imagine such a Combination). The Outlays and Fury and scorn
which this provoked among the bourgeois critics (and Of course ail critics
are bourgeois) was almost incredible. Out it has really increased my
Pessimism about being sale to do anything much in this country.
Unfortunately, the critics really do have the power to Prevent ... working
in a medium like television - where standards are almost entirely
dependent on popular reception.
On Monday I am going to Los Angeles again to investigate seriously the
offers that are being made there to develop a
subject for a film. No particular subject at the moment ‑ a question of
finding something that I could like and that could be acceptable to the
Americans and turning that into a script. As you can imagine, I would much
rather be working subversively in Britain but, as I have tried to explain,
that becomes more and more difficult.
Yes, it's true, most people do imagine that choir country is their country
is the "best in the world". I have never been able to understand this. I
think that patriotism is very nice as long as it is sentimental and
poetic. But is neither nice nor intelligent when it claims to be
can't imagine why I have developed these non‑nationalistic ideas.
not either educated nor brought up in a particularly cosmopolitan way.
However, perhaps it is due to the fact that my blood is Scottish rather
than English, and of course the celtic temperament is very different from
I’am glad vou are surviving; I think in spite of everything you were
fortunate to get to Germany rather than to stay in Britain. If you are any
kind of an artist, this not the place to be!
Good luck in all things: keep in touch,
Lindsay Anderson reached out to the peak of achievement
in the British cinema and made a film which must count as one of the
most powerful ever made by an English director. A study of a rebel in
an English public school, it showed an individual making a protest
against authority, a cry which turns eventually into anarchy and armed
insurrection, with parents, masters and prefects subjected to
guerrilla gunfire from the rooftops on Founders' Day, an ending
recalling Jean Vigo's classic Zero de Conduite, which had more
than one resemblance to Anderson's film.
- letter fifth
dated on July 8, 1984 -
Dictated 8 July
Slavek and Krystyne,
the charming photograph ‑ and I'm sorry I couldn't have been there.
It must have been a happy occasion. And I'm glad, Slavek, that you
have been sensible enough to marry a bio-chemist, and not someone
connected in any way with the theatre.
Maybe we will
have an opportunity of meeting
later this year. I've been invited to come to New York in the autumn
and direct a play by David Storey, IN CELEBRATION, at the Manhattan
Theatre Club. And after that I am going to do HAMLET in Washington
at the Folger Theatre. So I'll be quite a bit in the U.S. Whine will
certainly be a ood change from Britain, which I'm afraid is as much
stuck in the past as ever.
now rehearsing a production of Synge's PLAYBOY OF TIE WESTERN WORLD
which opens at Oxford at the end of July. So I'm keeping busy.
a separate letter Slavek, which I hope may be of some use to you.
Love and good luck,
“A revolutionary soldier kneeling to be blessed”,
by Saxon Logan and Charles Drazin
There are photographs taken before he died.
still exist as a poignant and moving record of the last day of this
extraordinary British Artist.
was on holiday in Northern Dordogne and had
agreed to accompany friends for a swim in a nearby lake.
He undressed a little apart from the others and with a neat surface dive
swam evenly out into the lake. He came back, crossed the thin strip of
beach and climbed up the bank towards his clothes. His friends heard a
strange rustling noise and saw him plummet down the bank, falling
heavily across the beach into the shallow water, his head submerged in
The day after, they found a postcard he had written to a
friend in Canada, waiting to be posted. He wrote: “Today the sun is
shining and I shall shortly be bathing in the placid lake.”
17th 1923 - 30th August 1994)
Lois Smith, his hostess while on that holiday and
long time friend, has written movingly of the last days Lindsay Anderson
spent with her and has agreed to recount this particularly personal
memory which will form a potent, enticing and affecting opening to this
comprehensive documentary programme of the man and his works.
Lois’ was arguably Anderson’s closest and most
significant friendship. They met while at Oxford and found they shared a
passion for cinema. When Anderson left intending to become a teacher, it
was Lois who - recognizing in him a unique blend of authority and
talent, - persuaded Anderson instead to make a documentary on her
family’s factory. Meet The
was the first of a series of striking and original films that drew on a
rich tradition of British realist filmmaking, and this documentary will
look at the influences that shaped him as a distinctly British
filmmaker. Hardly ever shown, these films revealed Anderson to be every
bit as much a poet of the cinema as his great inspiration Humphrey
Jennings. Our programme will look at the influences that shaped him
as a distinctly British filmmaker and reflect on the development of
Anderson’s own vision with its mix of tender humanist lyricism and
biting social commentary. It will also celebrate his substantial,
vigorous and elegant contribution to British Theatre.
Central to our appraisal of his work
influences and impact-, will be a comprehensive account of the person.
It is the character of Lindsay Anderson that is finally most
fascinating, and this programme will explore the formative
influences of a childhood in India, a fractured family life and an
unhappy public school career. With special access to his beautifully
expressed letters and diaries, to his friends, family and eminent
collaborators we will provide a definitive and candid portrait of the
man. Interviews with his detractors and critics too, - most of who now
form the establishment of British film and theatre - will lend an
essential shading and contrast.
Recorded on video at the memorial evening held at the
Royal Court in November 1994
to mark his passing, the playwright
David Storey gave a memorable speech that summed up incisively the
character of his close friend and collaborator:
have never seen nor shall we see again anyone like him. He was a man of
vivid contradictions. Authoritarian, some even found him an autocrat,
and yet he was unmistakably a liberal. He was a stoic and yet undeniably
sentimental. He was a vigorously self-confessed atheist, and yet he was
imbued with what can only be described as a religious spirit. He was a
teacher, yet in my experience he was always asking for instruction. He
was a classicist and yet a romantic. He was an intellectual and an
artist, he was cantankerous, he was vituperative, he was obdurate and
acerbic, and yet he was incorrigibly loyal and unfailingly generous. He
was in many respects human nature turned inside out. He loved what he
hated and hated what he loved…His was an expansive, celebratory,
liberating spirit with an ability to look at the worst in human nature,
often with a mordant relish, only to come up with aspirations for the
best. Above all, there was his appetite for a world which was nobler,
more charitable and more gracious than the one in which he found himself
and which he struggled unfailingly to enhance…”
Anderson’s contribution to the British theatre is
He worked with a great many leading actors of the
English stage and nurtured some of our greatest playwrights.
Never self serving, he was responsible for introducing new talent some
of whom went on to become actors and movie stars of genuine
international stature: Albert Finney, Peter O’Toole, Alan Bates, Malcolm
McDowell and the late Richard Harris. He was greatly admired too, by
many of his contemporary filmmakers: Andrzej Wajda, Milos Foreman,
Robert Benton, Stephen Frears, Martin Scorsese and Terence Malick.
Their impressions of the man and his influence will lend extra
appeal and gravitas to the programme. A younger generation of filmmakers
struggling for recognition will be included. They look to Anderson’s
anarchic vision as an inspiring lodestar countering the timidity of
One reason Lindsay Anderson
makes for such a good
documentary subject is that his works provide an accurate mirror of the
nation and times in which he lived. From the late fifties with This
Sporting Life through to The White Bus and If in the
sixties, he captured the growing spirit of rebellion. In the seventies,
his humanist, incisive satire O Lucky Man! depicts a foolhardy
nation in decline; underscored later by his scathing interpretation of
Alan Bennett’s black comedy The Old Crowd. While society itself
was in flux, his voice struck a chord; but he found himself disastrously
out of favour with the backlash of Thatcher’s Britain; he found
it hard to be heard in a conformist and materialistic age. Britannia
Hospital, his savage satirical vision of Britain could not have been
more ill timed as it premiered on the eve of the Falklands War. From
this point on he found it increasingly difficult to make the films that
interested him. He was not a careerist, but a vocational filmmaker who
strove to make films of personal commitment, and in pursuit of this
freedom, he had to rely more on chance and luck. Nothing, however, in
the later works: Glory, Glory, an unbearably funny film about
American Television Evangelists and the exquisite, poetic Whales of
August suggests an artist in decline. Yet, out of sympathy with a
new age, Anderson felt he was. He considered himself a yesterday’s man
and became dreadfully depressed as he struggled to find backing for his
lyrical but acerbic and dissident brand of filmmaking. Sadly, original
scripts by Anderson and his collaborator David Sherwin remain
was a complex man. Again, with
the help of his personal diaries, his close friends Malcolm McDowell and
Gavin Lambert, his brother Murray and nephew Sandy and collaborators
David Storey and David Sherwin the programme will explore his ‘inner
life’. His homosexuality caused him considerable torment. His strong
moral sense fought his personal desires to a stand off and he elected to
live a celibate life. Nonetheless his repressed sexuality was a source
of powerful artistic expression. Scenes from This Sporting Life
and If... possess a tender, autobiographical intensity and
sensuality rarely seen in British cinema.
He made frequent appearances on radio and television,
providing eloquent commentaries on his work, his country, the people he
admired and those he viewed with mistrust. There is a wealth of archive
footage to draw from along with a prolific and sometimes intimate and
personal collection of stills. Anderson was a highly accomplished
photographer and his personal record of these private moments captured
while at work and within his social environment will in most cases be
seen for the first time. We have, also, been assured by the BFI that we
can expect their fullest co-operation.
August 2004 marks the tenth anniversary of
Lindsay Anderson’s death
and would offer an optimum and attractive
platform for transmission. A major commemorative retrospective is being
planned for the 2004 Edinburgh Film Festival along with other
events throughout the year, not just here in Britain but in North
America and the rest of Europe too. All this I am certain will heighten
the interest of domestic and international television audiences alike.
Returning to David Storey’s eulogy, he recalled
Lindsay Anderson reciting his favourite poem by WB Yeats,
Gallery Revisited": “He came to the final line of the first stanza, 'A
revolutionary soldier kneeling to be blessed', and, pausing, said, "I
don't wish to flatter myself, but at the end of the day I'd like to
think that would be my epitaph." Well, "blessed" he certainly was
although he didn't kneel for very long, as for "soldier" it goes without
saying, and "revolutionary" not only time will tell….”
Anderson Interview on Pop Promos
Richard Harris Tribute to Linsay Anderson
Malcolm McDowell on Lindsay Anderson
Lindsay Anderson on Tokio Story
free cinema - LINDSAY ANDERSON
Lindsay Anderson - Official Site
Lindsay Anderson remains a unique figure in British culture.
He stands for an attitude toart and life that is committed,
personal and socially engaged. He made some of the most
remarkable films in the history of the British cinema, and was
one of this country's leading theatre directors.
IF... (1968) full movie
O, LUCKY MAN
THIS SPORTING LIFE (1963)
Copyright © 2002 and My Letters... All rights