#distant voices still lives

[filmgifs]

Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) dir. Terence Davies cinematography by William Diver and Patrick Duval

[pop-sesivo]

Terence Davies (1945-2023) era el más grande director británico vivo. No tuvo el éxito comercial de John Boorman o el reconocimiento en festivales de Ken Loach. Pero ningún otro director británico retrató mejor la cultura popular de la postguerra, la alegría de los momentos mundanos y la crueldad de las convencios sociales como Davies. Privilegió la mirada de los niños y las mujeres, pero también dio protagonismo a su ciudad natal, Liverpool. Davies dio voz a su homosexualidad al igual que a su fe religiosa. Prodigó finales felices y despiadados por igual. Escribió historias originales, con grandes tintes autobiográficos, pero también fue un eficaz adaptador de novelas; no en balde, hizo dos películas sobre eminentes poetas. Terence Davies amplió los horizontes del cine británico al tiempo que hizo películas personales y conmovedoras. QEPD.

Terence Davies (1945-2023) was the greatest living British director. He didn't have the commercial success of John Boorman or the festival recognition of Ken Loach. But no other British director portrayed post-war popular culture, the joy of mundane moments and the cruelty of social conventions better than Davies. He privileged the gaze of children and women, but also gave prominence to his hometown, Liverpool. Davies gave voice to his homosexuality as well as his religious faith. He lavished happy and merciless endings alike. He wrote original stories, with great autobiographical overtones, but he was also an effective adapter of novels; not in vain, he filmed two biopics about eminent poets. Terence Davies expanded the horizons of British cinema while making personal and moving films. RIP.

[dlirioss]

Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) Directed by Terence Davies.

[gone2soon-rip]

TERENCE DAVIES (1945-Died October 7th 2023,at 77). British screenwriter, film director, and novelist. He is best known as the writer and director of autobiographical films, including Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988), The Long Day Closes (1992) and the collage film Of Time and the City (2008), as well as the literary adaptations The Neon Bible (1995), The House of Mirth (2000), The Deep Blue Sea (2011), and Sunset Song (2015). His final two feature films were centered around influential literary figures, Emily Dickinson in A Quiet Passion (2016) and Siegfried Sassoon in Benediction (2021). Davies was widely hailed by critics as one of the greatest British directors of his creative period. Terence Davies - Wikipedia

[biokam]

British screenwriter, film director, and novelist Terence Davies (November 10, 1945 – October 7, 2023)

[erstwhile-punk-guerito]

[pop-sesivo]

De las películas británicas más originales que he visto: Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988), dirigida por Terence Davies.

Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) dir. Terence Davies

[astolfocinema]

Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) ------------------------------------ dir. Terence Davies cin. William Diver, Patrick Duval cou. UK

[dairyfreenugget]

(Going insane boinkinh one AU in my head)

Hey hey hey

May I interest you in

(Slowly slides my FaaF AU towards you but void just Disappears without a trace one day before the accolade)

Teehee

[emulation-0]

god idk what it is but this past week ive been missing my ex best friend like crazy

[townofcrosshollow]

Idk man if you're constantly talking about your crushing loneliness and feelings of being ostracised and left out when you ostensibly have a bunch of friends around you then maybe the feelings of loneliness aren't the problem there

[filmgifs]

Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) dir. Terence Davies Babylon (2022) dir. Damien Chazelle

[ohdarlings]

i listened to a podcast where the guest comedian was raised irish catholic and he talked about how he doesn’t think he ever believed in god or hell or anything, he didn’t even think about it, it was more about the pageantry and the rhythm and routine and that is so relatable i’ve never heard anyone else put that into words

[dlirioss]

Distant Voices, Still Lives (1988) Directed by Terence Davies.

[noxtivagus]

i love the architects sm. their music is so good

[khioneee]

tap out.

simon doesn’t expect anyone to tap him out. a ritual where loved ones step forward to release a soldier from duty, creating a chance to reconnect.

based on this.

simon stands in formation, a soldier among countless others, each bound by discipline, each carrying their own story beneath a stoic exterior.

in the unyielding line, he’s silent, gaze fixed forward, while around him, families reunite: sons embraced by tearful mothers, women lifting their children into their arms, couples lost in long-awaited kisses. joy and relief fill the air, carried on quiet laughter and murmured words of love.

but simon is an orphan now.

there’s no one to step forward for him, no one to break his stance. he watches it all, standing alone, feeling like a stranger in this crowd of reunions, this world of connections he never belonged to.

over the years, the military has stripped him down, rebuilt him into something hardened and unbreakable. this new self is his armor, a wall between him and the life he left behind.

the tap-out tradition is a formality he’s only ever heard about, something he’s watched from a distance but never expected for himself.

he stands motionless as soldiers around him are tapped out by loved ones. he watches quietly, feeling a distant sense of satisfaction for them, grateful that they have that in their lives.

maybe soap would tap him out after he’d seen to his own family.

no matter how many times simon tried to keep him at arm’s length, he’d come to accept that soap wasn’t leaving him behind. coerced into the friendship or not, soap was a friend. until soap has been tapped out, there’s no one in simon’s life to come pick him out.

still, simon knew he was alone in ways he couldn’t change. or so he believes.

then he feels it—a subtle shift in the air, hesitant footsteps halting just in front of him, carrying a weight he doesn’t understand. his breath catches, but he doesn’t move. he’s trained to hold his position, but something in him almost falters as he senses a presence just inches away. slowly, he lets his gaze shift, barely, enough to catch a silhouette he thought he’d left behind a lifetime ago.

it’s you.

you. his childhood best friend. the love of his life.

you. the only person he thought of when he escaped his broken home. you. the guilt that wracked him when he ran, unable to say goodbye after the night he barely escaped after being beat nearly to death. you. the only reason he wanted to be alive, and the person he hadn’t been able to look back for.

—you. you. you.

and now here you are, standing before him, eyes wide with hope and uncertainty, tears gathering at the corners like unsaid words held back for too long.

he doesn’t understand, not fully. he thought he’d locked that door, left that part of him sealed away. and yet, here you are, holding everything he thought he’d left behind.

you hesitate, the weight of the years pressing down between you, unsure if you’re allowed to do this. if you can reach out to him after all this time, to be the one who taps him out.

he senses your uncertainty, feels it as if it’s his own, and in that moment, he lets a flicker of vulnerability break through—a slight furrow in his brow, a subtle nod. silent permission.

and you know, in that instant, it’s okay.

with a trembling hand, you reach forward, closing the distance. your hand hovers over his shoulder for a heartbeat, the air between you heavy with everything left unsaid.

then, gently, you tap him out. a simple touch, light and fleeting, yet it breaks something open in both of you.

in an instant, simon moves. his arms come around you, his grip unyielding as he pulls you close, lifting you off the ground. the soldier falls away, and he’s just simon again, holding you as if you’re the only real thing in a world that’s constantly shifting.

his head lowers, his face buried in your shoulder, and he breathes you in, lets the walls he’s held up for years fall away.

‘you’re here,’ he murmurs, voice rough, thick with emotion he can’t hide anymore.

his hand cradles the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair, each touch soft, a silent promise. the weight of years and regret presses against him, but he holds you tighter, as if to make up for every moment he was gone.

you feel the warmth of his tears against your shoulder, silent and raw. he pulls you closer still, as if afraid to let go, his voice barely a whisper as he breathes, ‘i’m sorry, lovie. i’m so damn sorry. i’ll never leave you behind again. i promise.’

and in that moment, surrounded by echoes of lives left behind, he’s just simon again, the boy who belonged with you.

. ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ🐇་༘࿐ an. i know the tap-out tradition isn’t common in the uk and is usually done at the airforce but oh well. read part 2 here.