​Key to Barns-Graham's work was her synesthesia, whereby one sensory experience triggers another. In film studies, we learnt about this through colour- the universal association of danger with red, blue with sadness for instance. Barns-Graham's interpretation of the natural world found order in chaos, symmetry in nature and associations in pattern. For the mathematics averse (yours truly), animation is a welcome feature of the documentary. The rust squares of 1964's 'Cinders' shuffle across the screen, whereas granite lines recreate works like 1978's 'Glacier Fields' in front of our eyes. Through the rubble, as you might say, of orderly patterns of brick and square shapes emerged her defining fascination with glacial landscapes. The name of the film itself is her reflection upon seeing Grindelwald's Alps in the 40's (if there's one thing missing from this gender-informed film, it's more about her travels across Italy in the following years), marking the point Wilhelmina's art shifted into a focus on glacial rock formations, the subject of which she is associated today. 

Recall the blues and greens of many Suffolk-made greetings cards (rather than the house pink)? Or, how those colors are universally applied to the sky and land? That's a possible influence from the St Ives School of Art, of which Barns-Graham was a member from the 1950s. Although they didn't formally recognize themselves as such, this still makes Barns-Graham's omission from modern art history more questionable. As the film rightly points out, the 70's women's liberation movement should have done more to raise the profile of her work. Among famed actress Tilda Swinton reading from Barns-Graham's notes, we hear personal testimonies on her refusal to conform to the standards of the art world, like friend and historian Lynne Greene remembering her as " a bit combative...she didn't know how to work the system". What system was it, exactly, that Barns-Graham didn't know how to work? Was it her beauty, acknowledged by these accounts, that overshadowed her artistic potential? Competition from male artists who envied her perspective? Yet Barns-Graham never did conform, continuing to see beauty and symmetry where she stood. The glimmer of water over pebbles, the contrasting mountain ranges of Orkney and Scotland, even the half-moon shape found in her St Ives paintings- all of this led to a vast body of work that the film allows to roll, almost endlessly, one after the other.

​This is a deeply sensory film, with operatic music, animated brushstrokes and striking portraiture staying true to the feel of a contemporary essay film. Cousins invites the audience- art critics or not- for more than a mere 'glimpse' into another forgotten artist. A Sudden Glimpse to Deeper Things raises new questions about the relevancy of female art, but it also leaves the hopeful impression that, like the lines of rock formations, Barns-Graham's legacy will endure.

Romeo and Juliet: Beyond Words film review Along with the many renewals of Easter- the sighting of cherry blossom, maybe another chocolate egg you didn't expect to find- was a specially themed ballet film weekend at the Barns. Commissioned by our lead film programmer and professional dancer, Luke, Romeo and Juliet: Beyond Words (2019) reimagines the classic Royal Opera House debut from 1965 as a made-for-film adaptation. It's a cinematic pirouette, turning a familiar story around through the expertise of directors Michael Nunn and William Trevitt, retaining both the charm of Sergei Prokofiev's original 1938 score and Kenneth Macmillan's choreography whilst infusing new life into Shakespeare's tragedy.

Joining a lineage of Shakespearean filmography, such as the Italian director Franco Zeffirelli's version in 1968 and Baz Lurhmann's modern-day take in 1996, the ambitions behind Beyond Words were closer to home. Similar to how venues like our own showcase artists and performances to smaller, rural communities, Nunn and Trevitt wanted "a non dance audience to experience the story" via their film. Whilst ballet certainly doesn't fall into popular culture, the techniques employed here appeal to the sensibilities of a visually receptive audience. The camera is able to pick up the nuances and emotions of the dancers, whilst a custom-built film set from Korda Studios in Hungary- also the shooting location of the fantastical Poor Things and architectural epic The Brutalist- gives us the fully realised, tactile world of 16th century Verona. Instead of a darkened theatre, the film opens into a bustling market square roamed by farm animals and villagers about their work, the sun rising over terraces in a perfect evocation of morning. All seems tranquil enough until a fight breaks out between the rival Montagues and Capulets and with it a faster pace in Prokofiev's score. Having being introduced to classical music through his 1936 score to Peter and the Wolf as a child, I found myself following character motifs again here- the skittish, playful notes of Juliet's nurse compared to the deep and intimidating timbre of Tybalt, whilst Hayward playing the Mandolin herself gives her wooing of Romeo the feel of a contemporary romance movie.

The extras serve an even more important function than they might have in a dialogue film, following the action in both expression and maneuvers across the stage. With the gift of film transition, and the help of costume designer Nicholas Georgiadis, one becomes familiarized with the characters. The red clothing identifies members of the Capulets, with orange being the comparative dress of the peasantry and workers and green signifying wealth, Juliet (debut star Francesca Hayward) and her father Lord Capulet (established dancer Christopher Saunders) in shades of jade and forest green. If the number of extras seems confusing at first, then the green worn by Romeo (debut of William Bracewell) during the Capulet ball, the possessive glares of dancer Matthew Ball as Tybalt and Marcelino Sambe's portrayal of intermediator Mercutio, flittering between the groups, signals these characters out.

The overtly staged ballroom 'Dance of the Knight' makes use of these rich sartorial textures, gowns flowing in unison with the dancers as if they too had a life of their own. However, I was particularly impressed by the attention to detail in even the supporting cast, like the pink embroidered gowns and beaded headdresses of Juliet's maids - recalling what a costumier might choose for Tchaikovsky's The Nutcracker- and the virtuous white of the two lovers meeting outside Juliet's balcony as night falls, the blue stage lighting bringing us back into a theatrical space. A beam of light through the chapel as they secretly wed makes the film feel transcendent, and the soft, warm glow of Juliet's chamber speaks to the intimacy of the love story. Instead of Beyond Words, perhaps this film could have been called Better Than, because the real set design and post-production can seem inextricable.

And it's not just the intricacy of costume design or scene setting that makes Beyond Words feel like a powerful film, but what cinematography can offer dance in general. Trevitt and Nunn wanted to tell more than one story, so trimming the ballet's full length to 90 minutes was a practical and creative decision. A shallow focus shot ( blurring the surroundings whilst leaving a character in clarity) underscores Tybalt's growing anger in a separate location outside the 'stage', a high angle shot from the balcony gives the viewer Juliet's perspective, and the pain of being misunderstood is realised through a close up of her distraught expression after fighting with her parents. Inevitably, with cutting footage there's a risk of 'rushing' pivotal moments and the fated scene of the two lovers by Juliet's deathbed could have benefited from a longer take, even if we could still marvel at how gracefully Bracewell lifted Hayward's body in 'The Deaths of the Lovers' whilst performing Romeo's demise.

​It's fitting that the last piece of music in Beyond Words is none other than Dire Strait's 1980 song of the same name- a knowing nod to the resonance and universality of Romeo and Juliet's feuding families and doomed love. Even if you won't be seeing a ballet in the Royal Opera House, Norwich's Theatre Royal or stand by that classical music and dance fall out of your scope of interest, Beyond Words renews perceptions of 'high art' (ballet) and 'low art' (film) as something that many different people could access and enjoy. Nunn, W and Trevitt, W, 2020. ‘Making “Romeo and Juliet”, Great Performances. https://www.pbs.org/wnet/gperf/blog/making-romeo-and-juliet/

Image courtesy of Creative Arts East.
​Article by Izzy - our in-house Film Critic Volunteer