Film Notes: Dekalog Five

The fifth instalment of The Dekalog films is direct, brutal and chilling. The commandment used as the inspiration for this film is "thou shall not kill", and it is the horrific killings around which the plot of Dekalog 5 revolves that have earned the collection a "15" certificate in the UK. Certainly there has been nothing I can recall up to this point which has been above a "12", with even the more adult themes being mostly alluded to rather than depicted.

The plot of Dekalog Five centres on the strange anti-social behaviour of a young man, as he wanders the streets aimlessly. While some scenes show hints of his humanity; at other times he seems to gain some grim satisfaction from inconveniencing, humiliating, hurting and finally killing others. The murder he commits is senseless, premeditated, and carried out upon a random victim who has not earned his victim status by being either especially odious or virtuous; but by simply just by being there.

The unfolding action in the city streets around the

Dekalog flats, is interspliced with the career development of an idealistic young lawyer, working his way up the ladder and preparing to defend his first accused person. Inevitably the two stories will collide, and they do, as the young man is caught, convicted and sentenced to death. The idealistic defence lawyer, asks the judge if the prisoner will die because of any errors on his part; but is assured that his speech was the best denunciation of the death penalty that he had heard, but nevertheless, the law stands. The lawyer's desperate attempts to save the life of the young sadistic murderer, come to nothing - and they spend a final half hour together before the sentence is carried out.

The execution is set up to be something similar to the original murder. It is planned, organised, thought- through and all the horrible weapons of death assembled. Like the murder, the execution for all it's planning, is a violent, frantic and ghastly business, in which pleas for mercy are ignored and the frenzy of killing is followed by a noxious silence. Unlike the hangings of Pierepoint (depicted in the movie starring Timothy Spall), in which hanging was conducted with scientific accuracy, speed and with an strange efficiency, this was a matter as horrible as the crime it sought to repay. The credits roll to the sound of the lawyer weeping and yelling, "I abhor it, I abhor it!" The viewer is drawn inevitably to the same conclusion.

It is fascinating that the Polish communist authorities permitted this film to be made and shown on TV, at a time when the Polish State still had the use of Capital Punishment at its disposal. While the rates of executions was a tiny fraction of what it had been under the Stalinist post-war regime, it was still many years before the end of such practices. Dekalog Five was obviously Krzysztof Kieślowski's attempt to hasten its' demise. 

Dekalog Five is horrible, nasty, and powerful as a result. It is noteworthy that Kieślowski's

anti-execution polemic doesn't suggest that the man was innocent; he wasn't. He doesn't suggest that the man was pleasant but unfortunate, he doesn't hint that there was an irregularity in court procedures or that this was a crime committed in self-defence. Krzysztof Kieślowski rather wants the viewer to see that even when a nasty man, commits a nasty crime, without compassion and for no reason; killing him is still not the appropriate response of the state. Asking the viewer to sympathise with the criminal, or to excuse him in some other way, would have detracted from the power of the point he was making. In fact the supressed humanity of the murderer only begins to re-surface in his final minutes.

The filming of Dekalog Five is interesting. The Dekalog Flats feature less than in the other film in the series, in that we see the victim leave the flats, but most of the action takes place away from them at the murder scene, and then in courts and prisons. It is also filmed in a very grimy low light, not in black and white, but an almost ghostly black-and yellow; which casts a mournful shadow over the entire length of the piece. Lengthened and reworked, this episode came to a wider audience as "A Short Film About Killing". It is powerful, intelligent and provocative filmmaking, essential viewing even though the instinct is to want to look away from the screen, again and again.

Film Notes: Under the Bombs

Phillippe Aractingi's 2007 film Under the Bombs (French: Sous les bombes, Arabic: تحت القصف; taht alqasf‎‎), is a deep lament for civilians caught up in the violence of war. The setting is Lebanon in 2006, just as the almost month-long conflict between Israel and Hezbollah is drawing to a close under a UN brokered truce. While the war is raging as the film begins, it ends with French-UN forces arriving and a tense cease-fire generally holding sway. While the respective armies and politicians no doubt count their successes; this film focuses on the people who are left to bury their dead, and rebuild their roads, homes and families.

The film centres on two characters, Zeina and Tony; she has arrived back from Dubai in a desperate attempt to locate her sister and son, who have not been heard of since their town was bombed by the Israeli Air Force. Tony is the one taxi driver at the airport who is so in need of money (and it turns out with his personal dreams in tatters) that he is willing to drive Zeina into dangerous areas in search of her son. He is from 'the South' too, and knows the back-roads and diversionary routes around bombed out bridges, and unexploded ordnance which makes the post-combat zones enduringly dangerous. Nada Abou Farhat as Zeina and Georges Khabbaz as Tony, delivery memorable performances; begining the film as strangers, who in the course of their harrowing road-trip, discover more and more about each other's complex lives. The contrast between the fragile beauty of their humanity and the devastation which surrounds them is haunting.

Under the Bombs is superbly filmed too. According to Aractingi's interview with The Daily Telegraph, a lot it was filmed during the war, or in its immediate aftermath in 2006. The footage of ruined cities, of motorways junctions in fragments, of fleeing refugees, are real scenes of the horror of war. The cameramen took real risks in capturing this remarkable footage, which is on occasion spliced togther with archive news footage from the conflict too.

The obvious question which viewers want to know is which 'side' in the conflict the filmmakers take. Here in the West, people typically come to a film like Under the Bombs, wondering if it will be an anti-Israeli polemic, an apologetic for Hezbollah, or the inverse; a right-wing American funded justification for the Israeli bombing. The film itself turns out to be far more subtle and complex to be simply any of those things. For a start we met sympathetic characters who are Muslim as well as Lebanese Christian. Furthermore, we soon learn that one of the main characters has a brother who fought for the South Lebanses Army, who has fled to Israel, where he lives with his family  - and whose children speak fluent Hebrew. "We are not so different, we and the Jews" says one, "I don't care about politics, I don't care about religion - I just want to find my son" screams Zeina. The demarcation line

highlighted in this film is not racial, or religious; but between people of war, and those who simply want peace. "When the bombs stop, I pick my figs; when they start I hide in the caves" laments a elderly Palastinian man, who seems to speak for all those who simply want to get on with their lives. That doesn't make Under the Bombs a-political, or a piece of naive sentimentality though; we are introduced to friends and family of Tony the taxi-driver; who engage in passionate and informed debate about the many sided conflict. Tellingly though; Zeina interrupts the debate, and she and Tony leave to continue their tragic search. For her part Zeina looks as disgusted with the Israeli planes who kill her sister, as she does with the Hezbollah leaders who politicise the funeral.

Under the Bombs is a remarkable, poignant and unforgettable film which will remain branded in my memory for a very long time. There are simply too many war films which celebrate the heroism of combatants; and too few which expose the truth that the bravest of them all are usually the ordinary people, who face the task of finding some way forward when the bombs stop falling, the funeral processions are gone; and they stand alone in the rubble of all they once knew. Under the Bombs does all this and more; watch it and weep as the sorrow unfolds.

Film Notes: Spotlight

Spotlight is the 2015 film written by Tom McCarty and Josh Singer, about The Boston Globe's investigation into institutional child sexual abuse within the Roman Catholic Church in Massachusetts. Making a good film about journalism, which says something important, and does so in a compelling way is not easy. The most vivid newspaper stories are still essentially produced by a person sitting typing, with the resulting words being edited and spell-checked meticulously, which is hardly a spectator sport. Spotlight, however manages to make a gripping movie about the investigative and editorial process which led to the publication of a truly landmark piece of journalism.

The Spotlight team produced regular columns for The Globe, covering all manner of subjects, researched in substantial depth, sometimes over long periods of time. The film describes the way in which the team begin to unearth a series of sorry truths about the Catholic Church, the City of Boston and finally themselves. The investigation begins with a piece about a paedophile priest who was brought to trial, Fr John Geoghan. Interviews with victims suggest that he was not an isolated individual, but part of a large group of child-abusers who had infiltrated the church and used it as a means to access children to prey upon. Finally they unearth eighty-seven guilty names from within the Boston Archdiocese alone. Researching and publishing such grim truth turns out to be difficult, because the church was but one element of a Boston elite, who had spent decades ignoring the problem in the hope that it would go away. The city's legal system, is thoroughly implicated in the cover-up which Spotlight unearths, in which errant priests were moved from parish to parish to 'start-again', while pay-offs with gagging-clauses were agreed with any victim who spoke out. Perhaps as we have seen with Savile at the BBC in this country, there were countless people who knew, but did nothing. The final uncomfortable truth the Spotlight team discover is that they too had been sent information years before which they had failed to act upon; and that they too had been drawn into the web of silent cowardice in the face of power. This film concludes with both the abuse, and the institutional cover-up being exposed, leading to a massive shake-up of the church, the city, and the resignation of a Cardinal - and the phones ringing around the clock as countless further victims and survivors come forward.

In his book, Flat Earth News, Nick Davies argues that this is exactly the type of journalism we are fast losing, because dropping sales have meant falling revenues, which have led to slashed budgets, reduced staff and the regression into what he calls mere 'churnalism'. 'Churnalism' is the term he uses to describe dispirited overworked journalists merely hacking press releases into unchecked, unsubstantiated almost worthless copy. The obvious question is, who speaks truth to power today? The 'powers' have obviously changed, the days of churches being part of the cultural hierarchy are long gone; but the new managers of the zeitgeist, and moneyed classes today do not have brave journalistic teams holding them to account. Rather, the UK libel laws, seem rigged in favour of the rich to precisely prevent such scrutiny. If you want a detailed understanding of the way that journalism today is stifled in this way, read the section on 'money' in Nick Cohen's "You Can't Read This Book".

The roles of the core investigative team at Spotlight, are really well performed by Mark Ruffalo, Michael Keaton, and Rachel McAdams. They benefit from good direction and editing, some very well observed set-design and era-appropriate details, and an exceptional script. There are a few especially telling moments in the film. Notable amongst these were some of the interviews with (now adult) victims, which were harrowing to watch. Not in terms of the lurid details, which are mostly referenced indirectly and handled with some care by the filmmakers. Some crime based films take a salacious delight in the horror of the offence, but Spotlight avoids this temptation; in order to more soberly consider the long-term effects of abuse upon its' survivors.

Within the movie the subject of 'spiritual abuse' is also raised but not really defined. There seem to be two aspects to this within the film. The first is that within Catholic theology, the priest is an intermediary between people and God, and so acts apparently with God's authority. Victims spoke of

being unable to fight back or resist as they had inculcated the idea that to resist a priest was to defy God. The second aspect of the spiritual abuse raised, is that abuse by the church robs people of their faith - something precious, defining which gives their lives meaning, which is ripped away from them. Mark Ruffallo and Rachel McAdams characters both indicate that this investigation marks the final end of their remaining Catholicism. Both of these issues are worthy of some comment, because the common theme which unites them is that the church is not God.

I write this review from the perspective of a Christian who believes that God does not mediate his grace to humanity through an institution; but through a person: Jesus Christ. The elevation of a priest into a divine mediatorial role, doesn't just give him the opportunity to abuse (though that is the context in this film), but to smear the good name of God with whatever faults the man or his institution has. We should note that such thinking can all to easily permeate churches who would not ever actually endorse such hierarchical theology and might even include some statement about the 'priesthood of all believers' in their basis of faith.  Presenting a veneer of respectability, hiding a morass of wickedness can cause nothing but long-lasting damage to the cause one is seeking to protect. Conversely truth is always liberating.

Spotlight then is a film which calls us not merely to disgust, anger or a knee-jerk anti-Catholicism. Rather, it demands that we do not hide wrongdoing, but call it out for what it is, both in ourselves and in powerful institutions wherever it occurs. Likewise, it demands that we are rigorous in all our child-protection procedures in churches, schools, youth-clubs, sports-clubs and the like as the damage done to individuals by systematic failures in this regard are appalling. Finally Spotlight calls us to seek a free, open press who can investigate the great, the good and the powerful, without fear.

Spotlight is a thought-provoking and disturbing film which exposes dark truths and does so, quite brilliantly.

Film Notes: Dekalog 4

All ten of Krzysztof Kieślowski's short films in the Dekalog series have certain things in common; they are brooding, bleak, atmospheric dramatic shorts, set in the same monolithic Soviet-era block of flats, and all are inspired to some degree by The Ten Commandments of the Old Testament. To undertake such a task when Poland was torn between the Catholic and Soviet identifies on offer was a bold enough prospectus, but Kieslowski once remarked that these were plays about right and wrong, written in an era when the very authority to define such concepts was up for grabs. This is compelling stuff, and in the hands of filmmaker as thoughtful and subtle as Kieslowski, surely going to have a lot to offer.

In practice the films are not all of the same quality. The ones which work least well are those where viewers and critics are left debating about which of the Commandments the film is said to relate to. Kieslowski didn't name the films, merely numbered them, and is a director who likes to leave things for his audiences to work out for themselves.

 

There is no doubt at all about which commandment Dekalog 4 draws on for its inspiration however, "honour thy father and mother" is clearly in view here. [spoiler alert]. The nature, importance, and uniqueness of the parent-child relationship is explored; and its limits probed, in this touching piece of drama. The film opens in the (by now familiar looking) 'dekalog' flats. A man and woman (Anka and Michal) share this flat, and we first encounter them they are acting playfully and affectionately, and despite their differing ages the starting assumption is that the beautiful 20-something is the wife/partner of the older man. Then, it becomes apparent that they are not partners in that sense at all; their separate rooms, and the appearance of the woman's boyfriend reveal that, and when she waves Michal off on a trip she says, "Goodbye Dad". 

As the complex narrative unwinds, we discover that the girl's mother died soon after delivering her, leaving Michal to bring the girl up alone. He has never remarried, or formed any long term attachments, despite some brief liaisons. At the time the film is set Anka has grown up, is a drama student for whom sex (with a succession of boyfriends) is part and parcel of her life; despite her father's disapproval. This much is straightforward; however the neat lines dividing the parenting relationship from all other are shattered when Anka finds a letter which reveals that Michal is not her biological father. A conflict ensues, in which Anka angrily accuses of Michal of lying to her for years. More disturbingly however, once the restraints of biological incest are removed; and it becomes clear that an unspoken sexual tension has

been building between them for years - their whole relationship could be metamorphosed from from that of parent/child to that of lovers. Here we have the heart of the question Kieslowski asks his audience: is parenting simply a matter defined by DNA, or is the social role of nurturing, disciplining, and raising equally definitive? The answer supplied by Anka and Michal, is that despite the physical attraction, the parenting relationship is more that the sum of its genes, and that the parenting relationship is to be honoured, preserved and protected. The film ends as they burn the letter which revealed their biological secret, and Anka again calls Michal 'Dad'.

Anka is well played by Adrianna Biedrzyńska, who very patiently allows the audience to explore the complexity of the character, as the reasons for her angst, tension and promiscuity is progressively

revealed. Janusz Gajos is excellent as Michal too, as he resists the obvious temptation to overplay it, and scene steal. Instead he allows the complex character of Michal to be tormented and complex, but in a quiet, stoical manner - so much of a more believable portrayal, whose impact is all the greater for its subtlety.

Dekalog 4 is a surprising, and slightly disturbing film. But one which asks an important question and probes towards a helpful answer.

Film Notes: Dekalog 3

Kryzystof Kieslowski's "Dekalog" series of ten short films, was billed as his creative response to the Ten Commandments. I was attracted to the concept, not simply because of it's biblical inspiration, and because I assumed it would contain some interesting ethical wrestling; but because Kieslowski is such an interesting film maker. His "Three colours trilogy", was not only beautifully shot and wonderfully constructed, but was intriguingly quirky in its' inclusion of subtle signs, references and illusions - few of which were 'in the face' of the viewer, but which constantly intrigued and fascinted.

The Dekalog series are equally subtle, loaded with hints, pictures and subtle references playing between each of the individual films - all of whihc are set in the same tower-block of flats. Intriguingly, it is not always obviosu which commandment is being referenced in each film, although Dekalog 1 is thought to be inspired by the 'have no other gods before me' instruction, and Dekalog 2, by the prohibition on misusing the Lord's name. Dekalog 3 is said to be attached to the command to keep the Sabbath Day - but the narrative of this film makes that far from obvious.

The story concerns the events of Christmas Eve night, and two people searching for a missing man. The two are Janusz and his former mistres Ewa, and they are looking for her husband who she has reported missing. From the outset, the commandment against commiting adultery seems a more obvious starting point for the film. However, the narrative takes a series of unlikely turns (spoiler alert!). For a start the couple do not resume their affair, which has been over for three years; then it turns out that the missing husband is not a missing person but left Ewa years ago - and the whole night they spend together is predicated upon an elaborate series of lies (which call another commandment altogether into play). Finally as they separate at 7AM, and Janusz goes home to his wife, who simply wants to know if he is going to be faithful to her or resume the affair; Ewa reveals what has realy been going on. She was alone on Christmas Eve, and set herself the 'bet' of gaining company until Christmas Morning, or ending her life. 

Dekalog 3 contains many of the strenghts of the first two films, bleak and atmospheric shooting, compelling acting and an engaging storyline. It doesn't match up to the first two in terms of links to the commandments, emotional engagement, or depth of thought however. Of the first three films, this is the weakest by some margin. The alleged links to 'the sabbath' commandment are made by seeing links between Sabbattarian duty, and Janusz's duties as a husband - but this seems contrived. This couple seem to be damaged by the fallout from the violation of the adultery commandment, and caught up in the middle of a web of lies; and these commandments seem to be closer to the mark. 

Unlike the focused impact of Dekalog 1 & 2, the third film seems to drift. The bleak empty streets, the moody filming and Maria Pakulnis' brilliant performance as Ewa, don't quite compensate for the fact that this film just doesn't grab the viewer by the throat like the first two.

Kelpies

Allt Da Ghob

An Evening of Blues with The Simon Kennedy Band & Lins Honeyman & Band

The Souter Theatre in Perth's AK Bell Library played host to a blues extravaganza on Saturday night, courtesy of two local bands, The Simon Kennedy Band, and Lins Honeyman & Band. As Blues Bands go, they couldn't be more different, but between them they put on a fine evening's entertainment.

Lins Honeyman's band got things underway with a set of predominantly acoustic blues  (they have an electric guitar on several songs), featuring a mixture of Blues, Rock n Roll classics, and Honeyman's own compositions. Honeyman is a well known figure in the Perth music scene, having been gigging for many years in the company of an evolving line up of musicians. The current band: Honeyman: vox, guitars, harmonica, mandolin; Andrew McCully: lead guitar, double bass; Les Dalziel: keys, double bass, electric bass; Jon Assheton: drums, percussion, cahon, and Peter Oates: violin; has remained largely unchanged for a while now (Oates being the sole recent addition). Over time they have increasingly gelled as a unit and were on good form on Saturday night, presenting the bluesy-est set list they have performed in a while. Having heard this band range across a whole range of musical styles, I have always rated their blues-based performances as the pick of their output. Whether that is a fair assessment of their work, or simply a reflection of the fact that I love the blues, is hard to objectively judge!

Lins did a solo spot mid-show, which was well-received, and included a Shakespeare-inspired audience-participation singalong. It sounds improbable, but it worked! Other highlights included a bit of Blind Willie Johnson, some Chuck Berry, and a cheeky bit of blues comedy in the form of Keep Talkin', a humorous blues with a lyric that would bring a knowing smile to the likes of Champion Jack Dupree, who was apparently similarly afflicted! Two Feet Mama is another slightly tongue in cheek blues song which Lins wrote when he was quite young, but which has made a recent return to his live performances; alongside an idiosyncratic take on a certain Jungle Book number at the opposite end of the emotional spectrum to the soul searching song 'Sertraline'. The first half finale from Lins and Co, was 'Stranger Blues', which has been part of their set for some years. It has sometimes featured Les Dalziel and Lins himself, on Hammond organ solos, but with Les occupied on double-bass duties, and Lins wielding the harmonica, they were joined onstage by Mirek Hodun from the Simon Kennedy Band, who added a unique flourish to proceedings. Yesterday night, I was at one of my kids school parent's evening. One of the teachers, who had also been at the gig said to me, "I just love Lins' band... they just get better and better!"

As they combined solid musicianship, with a unique and eclectic set-list, delivered with Honeyman's trademark wit and whimsy, in a rootsy acoustic blues package, it's hard to disagree with his assessment.

After the interval, Simon Kennedy led his band onto the stage. Once a four piece band, the new SKB lineup features the eye-wateringly good drummer Brian Macleod and keyboard maestro Mirek Hodun,

who's left hand has replaced the bassist! While the first half featured lots of chat, humour, and acoustic vibes; the SKB were a complete contrast; from the outset they were full of highly charged, very loud, high-energy, funky electric blues. Led by Simon Kennedy's technically stunning, melodic guitar lines, trading licks with Mirek's very funky Hammond, built upon the foundation of Macleod's scintillating grooves; they kicked off with a Freddy King instrumental which set the tone for the second half of the evening brilliantly. Mixing blues covers, like Cannonball, and the El Media Stomp with Kennedy's own writing they showed why they are a real force to be reckoned with in the contemporary blues scene; and why they have gained national radio airplay.

Kennedy's own writing is mostly up-beat, intense, and earnest; but his lyrics are uncommonly thought-provoking and profound. If you are a fan of the the endless cliche's which fill the charts, then Kennedy's lyrics are not for you. His songs, do not feature any of the usual hackneyed phrases which rhyme such banalities as "sitting at home" with "all alone" and "waiting for the phone". Rather, he probes the human condition, and its' many sided complexities - drawing deeply on his Christian faith for answers to the many questions he airs. All this in upbeat driving, funky blues on tracks such as "Show them it's True".

The SKB then delivered a staggering version of the soul song, "The Letter", popularised (though not written by) Joe Cocker. Beginning with an eerie guitar introduction which weaved a chunk of "Stairway" into it, the band later morphed into a blast of 'Smoke On The Water"! In between that they belted out a stonking version of the song itself interspersed with an amazingly entertaining drum solo from Macleod, and a organ-solo, singalong from Hodun.

The night came to a glorious conclusion when all the musicians crowded onto the small stage for a big blues jam, under Kennedy's direction. Everyone who had taken part (with the exception of Jon Assheton - as there were two drummers, but only one kit!) traded solos and brought the evening to a rip roaring conclusion. 

I had the privilege of being asked to take some photos of the gig, which was hugely enjoyable. One day I'll own a professional standard camera which can operate at high ISOs without producing this much 'noise'.

Perth: Winter Bites!

Book Notes: TOMMY: The British Soldier On The Western Front 1914-1918 by Richard Holmes

Richard Holmes' Tommy is a huge book, which describes, in massive detail, every aspect of the experience and organisation of the British military campaign on The Western Front in The Great War. Its' 650+ pages contain chapters on recruitment, training, army structures, uniforms, trench life and warfare, military innovations, leave and entertainment, wounds, death and field hospitals, chaplains, communication, as well as the battles themselves.

Despite the fact that Holmes has an, at-times, rather pedantic eye for detail; this has been a profoundly sobering read. We paused, in our church for the two-minutes silence to remember victims of war this Sunday, almost exactly a hundred years to the day when the dreadful Battle of The Somme finally drew to a close. As we did so, I was almost at the end of this book, images from which pressed vividly on my mind. A century on from the war which was supposed to end all wars, the world looks more dangerous and volatile than it has in my lifetime. Putin seeks a renewed Russian Empire to the East, Trump has made noises about reneging on NATO commitments, leaving the Baltic States vulnerable and the possibility of a European ground war apparently more likely than at anytime since the early stages of the Cold War. Spending Sunday morning reading Holmes' accounts of the corralling of the teenagers of Britain into deadly trenches, then standing for a two-minute silence close to my two teenage sons was unnerving. I deliberately chose to read a WWI book during this centenary remembrance, and this volume is enormously  informative.

The book actually gets better as it goes on, some of the early chapters suffer from the repeated fault of being far too long, and overloading the reader with facts, at the expense of incisive analysis. One of the reasons that I have often struggled to read military history, is that the genre as a whole seems to suffer from this problem. All history writing contains facts; obviously! However, the best history writing has to be more than an archive of information presented in narrative form. The historian must analyse the vast reams of information, look for patterns and answers to debates, and then argue his or her point, using the information selectively; and footnoting rather than regurgitating huge amounts of data. To coin an unforgivably inappropriate metaphor, the chapter on military structures and reorganisations, was like wading through mud..

Thankfully, as indicated previously, the book improves as it goes on. The chapters on trench life and warfare were concise, and powerful. The discussions of military tactics and innovations were as well. Likewise the research and presentation of the life of the soldier away from the line, at play and at church, was also very well done, as were the sections on discipline, communication, the old and new army, horses, artillery, friendship, and aircraft. It is axiomatic that one of the major trends of the twentieth century was secularisation, from the high water mark of Victorian religiosity in the 1860s, through to the marginalisation of religious thought from the 1960s. There has been a long scholarly debate about both the causes of that process, as well as the starting point and rate of the secular advance. Holmes' analysis of the diaries of the trench soldiers, suggest that those who posit and early advance in secularism are closer to the mark - at least amongst this cohort of men. Fascinating too is his suggestion that the Catholic priests were more highly regarded chaplains than their Anglican counterparts, because Roman theology compelled them to wade through the battles to administer the 'last rites' to dying men in no-man's land, in trenches, and in shell-holes; often at huge risk to themselves.

Holmes makes a point throughout this work of debunking many of what he considers to be the myths which have grown up surrounding the Western Front, which he notes sometimes owe more to Blackadder than to historical fact. Such myths include the suggestion that the sons of the upper classes were shielded from loss, because the officers hid while the men went ''over the top'. This myth does not stand up to scrutiny at all, where the reverse seems to have actually been the case; with vast numbers of officers leading the fateful charges at Loos, Ypres, and The Somme et al. Likewise, Holmes is critical of the usual accusation that the planned advance across The Somme valley in the summer of 1916 (and the infamous worst day in the history of the British Army) was the result of sheer stupidity on the part of inept Generals. Holmes painstakingly points out that the battle was strategically necessary to stop German troops moving to other parts of the theatre where they could in 1916 have decisively overwhelmed several ill-prepared defences. 

Holmes also demonstrates that the appalling casualty rates on the opening days of that notorious conflict were not simply the result of a brainless attempt to overwhelm machine-gun fire by sending wave after wave of men to walk into it; but by a combination of the failure of the artillery barrage to clear the path for the infantry (of both enemy troops and physical obstacles), and of the army of of 1916 being totally unable to communicate effectively while in battle. Specifically, the infantry were supposed to advance on foot through areas of no-man's land, cleared of man and wire, towards German trenches behind a 'creeping barrage' of constant shelling. The line of devastating shelling was supposed to land only fifty or so yards in front of them, and the two lines were meant to advance in parallel synchrony. However, when the infantry were slowed down by the unexpected strength which the artillery had failed to knock-out, and by the deep muddy soil, they fell behind the 'creeping barrage' of covering fire. However, they had no effective means of communicating their actual position to the gunners behind the front line. The two repeatedly fell out of sync, leaving the infantry hopelessly vulnerable. The idea that fools in command posts were indifferent to such slaughter is also debunked, in truth, in mid-conflagration, they often had no idea what was going on in the line. 

Similarly, the idea that mentally ill soldiers were routinely shot for cowardice (when they were suffering from what we would now consider PTSD) is examined. There were, of course, some instances where this was undoubtedly the case. However, Holmes is careful to paint a picture of an army struggling to understand such matters, in what was the very early days of psychiatry, and making huge strides in addressing the issue as the war progressed.

Having said all that, Holmes is not simply an apologist for the British Army, nor for the pursuit of The Great War in general. He is often critical of the war, the politicians, and the way in which the war was pursued; but in this book 'Tommy', he is very careful to critique these things in their social, technological and broader historical context. Many of the most stringent criticisms made of the Army are made (quite accurately) but with the benefit of both hindsight and a century of cultural changes; which were completely inaccessible to the protagonists.

Tommy: The British Soldier On The Western Front 1914-18, is a enormously informative read, introducing the reader to all aspects of this defining conflict of modern history. The four photographic sections inserted through the book are fascinating, and rather haunting too. If its' 650+ pages could have been trimmed to around 400, with less repetition and fewer lists of facts and more analysis and summary instead, it would have been less exhaustive a guide, but a more compelling one.

Carn Bhac and Glen Ey

Glen Ey is a delight. I have long meant to explore Glen Ey, having seen alluring photos of it in mountain guides, and seen it from afar, from the top of Beinn lutharn Mhor. I finally managed to explore it myself, yesterday, on my way through to Carn Bhac - the only one of that cluster of Munros west of Glenshee, which had so far eluded me. I had planned to get to this one earlier on this year - on my way to take part in a church event at The Compass Christian Centre in Glenshee. That walk though fell victim to an asault of incessant torrential rain, which made the prospect look nothing less than ghastly. This week we enjoyed a reversal of such fortunes, the dreadful weather forecast was changed to a decent one on Friday night - and so we packed and headed for the hills. In fact, the initial forecasts hadn't been totally wrong, it was simply that the heavy rain pssed through the eastern glens during the night, leaving the air wonderfully dry - but the ground like a swamp!

The starting point for Glen Ey looks complex on the 1:50 000 OS map, with paths going in all directions. In practice however, the village of Inverey, where the River Eye pours into The Dee, has a walkers car park with a clear wooden sign saying "Glen Ey". From there, the track is obvious, and winds its way alongside the river for five and a half miles, terminating at the ruin of Altanour Lodge. From there, walkers paths continue on into the upper reaches of the glen. Our mountain bikes convered the ground fast, over the track which is in pretty good condition. It's a ride which is full of interest all the way along. The river was swollen and charging down the glen, the base of the valley is typically glacial - flat bottomed and wide, but the track climbs significantly along its length. An uphill slog in though, means a fast escape from the hills at the end of the day! The flat valley floor is framed by mountains on every side, which seem to grow in stature as the track heads southwards into steadily more remote territory.

In wide, lonely Glen Ey, we met virtually no-one all day. The landscape is obviously not 'natural', in that the marks of mankind are in everything from the lack of trees to the deer management measures, shooting access tracks, and heather burning. On the other hand, it is positively a wilderness compared to 'bonnie Glenshee', one glen to the east of Glen Ey, which is a landscape mangled by the skiing industry, with its' cafe's, car-parks, bulldozers, fences, piles of earth and wire. 

We abandoned bikes at the ruins of Altanour Lodge, which are now hidden behind a protective fence. The track itself ends at a turning circle a few yards beyond the ruins, and a walkers path continues then forks. We took the right hand fork which should have taken us south-easterly onto the southern ridge of Carn Bhac. In practice though, the path forded the Alltan Odhar, which in spate was uncrossable. The warm overnight downpour had melted the first of the winter snows which in combination were charging down the sides of the hills. We were forced to turn westwards, staying on the North side of the stream until just underneath the summit of Carn Bhac, where we were able to cross the burn and re-join the path. We left a little cairn marking the point at which we left the track so that we could re-trace our route, it would have been very easy to have descended a long way - only to have ended up the wrong side of a rising torrent. This was a swampy, squelch of a walk, but there is a bit of a path; suggesting that we were not the first walkers to have been unable to cross the Alltan Odhar.

The summit of Carn Bhac is wide and rocky, with a semi-circular cairn, which was plastered with driven snow. The views from this solitary munro are impressive, of such distinctive things as the famous Lairig Ghru through the Cairngorms, the Angels Peak, Devil's Point and Beinn MacDui around it, the Morrone at Braemar; and Beinn a Ghlo to the South. All that was left, was to return through the squelch to the bikes and Altanour Lodge, and fly down the track to Glen Ey and the waiting car in the fading afternoon light.

On paper this was an easy day out. 16miles, of which 10 were bikeable. At the end of it we were both really tired - and glad to get home! It was just so good to be in the hills again, after so long.

All photos taken on my phone!

Virginia Water Lake

It was a major nostalgia-trip for me, taking my family on the five mile walk around Virginia Water lake, at the southern end of Windsor Great Park. Virginia Water was the destination for countless family walks when I was a child, a place where my grandparents took me, and the destination of my first seriosu bike ride. As a teenager I cycled through Windsor Great Park time and time again, experiencing a glimpse of countryside in the noise of outer London, from the der par, through Smith's lawn and down the hill to the lake; and the little trailer in the woods which sold coke's and juice bars.

I have seen it in dry, hot summers, torrential rains, autumn colours, and in ice too. When I was a child, Ashford Congregational Church used to organise an annual Boxing Day walk around the lake. In those days, the paths could be boggy and wet, and there was no cafe by The Wheatsheaf car park doling out hot chocolate drinks to the wet and weary!

We found ourselves there on a crisp autumn day last week,

All photos enlarge to full size by clicking on them.