Film: Irene’s Ghost/Iain Cunningham at the London Film Festival

Happy days

Ok I have to admit that when the film started, I had a sinking feeling. Oh no, not one of those documentaries along the lines of Nick Broomfield/Jacques Peretti where there’s a toneless narration by the film-maker/subject, expressing no emotion at all. But this turns out to be a false first impression. Plus I’d expected the film to be American (poor research on my part) because, I’ve worked out, of the image in the programme of the director and his mother in which they both looked perfect and perfectly happy and so rather unBritish. I’m glad I assumed wrong though because I may have felt less intrigued by a British documentary (see above) and chosen something else and it would have been my loss.

Then there’s the initial focus on the adorable poppet of a daughter and the assertion that it was only when Iain Cunningham had his own child that he became determined to unravel the mystery surrounding his mother, Irene. I have a problem with the notion that only when you become a parent do you acquire empathy with, compassion for or curiosity about your own parents.

‘And watching my own child grow through her early years helped me see the impact my loss had on me. A three-year-old has a huge capacity for love.’

This implies he's more concerned with how the loss of his mother affected the child he was, although it's probable she only existed as a vague idea in his head as he was very young when she died, than what caused her disappearance. His father did what he thought was best for both of them at the time, he remarried and his wife, June, became to all intents and purposes, Iain’s mother so let's hear it for June, may she rest in peace.

With these misgivings, it’s remarkable how soon and how easily the film won me round. Here's the trailer.

Iain and his father

Iain starts his brave undertaking by interrogating his relatives, encountering some initial reluctance particularly on the part of his father. Undeterred, he sets about knocking on doors, following clues and meeting his mother’s friends, who share many fond and sometimes quite detailed recollections of Irene and their collective past, for instance, of her sitting on a gate singing ‘King of the Road’ by Roger Miller. Their memories bring her alive. It appears she was well loved and one friend in particular, Lynn, is demonstrably glad of the chance to reminisce about the best friend who no one ever mentions now, who she lost so long ago. There’s a very real sense of sadness and confusion over what happened and why.

The extreme close-ups on the interviewees’ faces mirror and exacerbate for the viewer the discomfort they feel in talking about an awkward subject.

Gradually we come to realise that Irene was hospitalised after the birth of her son, then allowed out for a while (when the gloriously happy picture was taken) then rehospitalised when her illness recurred. There’s an unspoken consensus that it was some physical complication during childbirth that led to Irene’s death, a heavy burden for a child to carry and so a very good reason to keep a secret. Iain gains some insight when he finds his baby book in amongst some old boxes of photos. There are strange scrawlings about God, baby, etc., not exactly the pride and joy a new mother might express. This suggests that there was something awry with Irene’s thought processes.

Lynn and Irene

We learn that when Lynn went to visit Irene in hospital (which she didn’t first time around because she and other friends were led to believe that Irene was in a coma, the truth being unsayable), Irene didn’t recognise her and had started seeing things that weren’t there, becoming paranoid and loud, acting out of character.

Even when Irene is at home, she doesn’t feel the same, saying ‘I’m not Irene, you know, I’m Irene’s ghost.’ And there’s no doubt that to her family she must have seemed like a different person.

As was common in those days, any hint of mental instability was hushed up. It turns out that Irene suffered from post-partum psychosis (as it is called today) that led her to behave in a way that would have been quite frightening to all who knew her.

When the psychosis returned, she was readmitted to hospital and died soon after. Her death certificate records the cause of death as ‘cardiac arrest’. No one seems to question – maybe it’s too difficult (and certainly too late) to consider – whether the electric shock treatment she was given affected her heart.

So Iain’s persistence pays off and the film’s slow reveal helps us to comprehend the true horror of what happened to Irene.

It’s quite probable that Iain’s father felt guilt, fear, confusion and helplessness when faced with something that no one really had any idea about (not even the doctors), that even today carries a stigma, that people felt could (and should) not be talked about.

Symptoms of post-partum psychosis usually start suddenly within the first two weeks after giving birth. More rarely, they can develop several weeks after the baby is born and include hallucinations, delusions, mania, depression, loss of inhibitions, paranoia, restlessness, confusion, out of character behaviour.

BFI London Film Festival 2018

The film, as well as being an investigation into the mystery behind Irene’s death and her complete eradication from their family history, also acts to rehabilitate her memory, so that she can take her place in the lives of her descendants, as a vital, normal, caring young woman who suffered an illness that inevitably hastened her end but need not define her.

Irene's Ghost is profoundly affecting. Many of us were in tears by the end. And you can't say better than that. Art should move you. I hope that the producer, Rebecca Mark-Lawson is able to procure a wider release as this sensitive film raises awareness about a devastating condition that is still not in common parlance. It deserves to be seen by as many people as possible.

Books: 'Frank: The Voice' and 'Sinatra: The Chairman' by James Kaplan

Frank: The Voice

Anything you’ve ever wanted to know about Frank Sinatra is in these two books ...

I absolutely loved both Frank Sinatra biographies by James Kaplan: Frank: The Voice and Sinatra: The Chairman. Any criticism he expresses is tempered with insight and understanding so although Frank’s behaviour is presented as often bad, it’s interpreted with respect and love for the man and his talent.

First, they are incredibly well written, every word apposite, with none of that almost inevitable repetition you get from inferior biographers.

Second, they’re so meticulously researched that I’m in awe of his skill. Everything is assiduously and entertainingly followed up on, connected with every relevant part or fact or rumour. They really are exhaustive. Because of this, they are huge tomes and will take many hours to read – but they’re worth every minute.

Sinatra: The Chairman

In two pages I learn more about Frank Sinatra than I did about David Bowie from Dylan Jones’s whole book, David Bowie: A Life, which was a particularly one-dimensional affair. See my David Bowie: A Life review.

For instance, although they sound a little like the facts that would be gleaned from a girl’s magazine questioning a teenybopper idol (am I showing my age?), it’s fascinating to me that Frank’s favourite foods (apart from marinara pasta) were cans of franksnbeans or grilled cheese sandwiches. I love this, it shows he didn’t stray far from his roots, that he was more than satisfied with something ordinary that anyone could eat at any time. You can take the boy out of Hoboken … .

And that his favourite colour was orange and his homes, planes (yes, let’s not forget that he was super rich and would think nothing of sending one of these planes to pick up someone he wanted to see at the drop of a hat) were decorated in orange and black.

Here are just four examples of Kaplan's incredible attention to detail and the way he manages to relate and interpolate so many seemingly disparate facts.

Frank and Ava

1. Ava Gardner (the one that got away) had an affair with the director of a film she starred in (Ride, Vaquero!, 1953) while she was married to Frank. The director was John Farrow. A few years down the line Frank married the guy’s daughter, Mia. How’d you like them apples? A bit of not quite instant karma.

2. He reminded me of a fact that I had forgotten, that the Beatles wrote ‘Dear Prudence’ to Mia Farrow’s sister to convince her to leave her room and join them, when they were all in India with the Maharishi Mahesh Yogi.

3. It is pointed out that one of the singing duo, Jan and Dean, Dean Torrence, who later appeared on a bill with Sinatra, was originally charged in the kidnap of Frankie, Jr, Frank’s son.

4. We learn that Sinatra was desperate to play Angelo Maggio in From Here to Eternity (1953) after reading the book by James Jones, before a movie was even dreamt of. He was determined to get this role, sending telegrams and letters to director Fred Zinnemann, begging for the part and signing himself as Maggio. He ended up delivering possibly the performance of his career and winning an Academy Award.

Kaplan's effort is an astonishing, daring and flawless juggling act.

Brad Dexter

Even an aside is delivered with wit and insight. For instance, we learn about an incident when Frank nearly drowned. There’s a difference of opinion over who saved him or even whether he needed saving. One possible rescuer is given as Brad Dexter. Kaplan says he’s the member of The Magnificent Seven (1960), who everyone forgets. Test your friends, he’s right.

It’s as if we’re tracing the patterns of certain threads in a tapestry, from where they end back to where they start or vice versa, everything analysed, examined as one brilliant colour or interesting shape, understood separately, but also as part of the whole glorious picture. Or it’s a patchwork quilt, designed by an artist so that each patch conveys an element of the story. It’s a work that seems effortless but of course isn’t. I have to give Kaplan kudos for making it seem so.

Frank Sinatra, 23, 'iconic mugshot'

There are a couple of very minor errors that I have to point out because I’m an editor by trade. The image on p. 14 of the first volume, of Frank’s first communion, is repeated on p. 66 but captioned the ‘iconic mugshot’, supposedly taken when young Frank was arrested (for seduction no less). Plus he loses a couple of points for ‘iconic’, the most overused word in the English language. I can't remember the number of times I’ve exclaimed to the TV when they use the phrase, which seems to be daily, ‘iconic image’, ‘AN ICON IS AN IMAGE!’

James Kaplan

Also, the subtitle for the first volume, Frank is different on the title page to the jacket. The Making of a Legend vs The Voice.

But, if you're at all interested in Sinatra, you must read these books - they will fuel your fascination and satisfy your curiosity. 

For more on Sinatra, see Bewitched, Bothered and Bewildered.

For more on music biographies, see:
Ray Davies: X-Ray 1
Ray Davies: X-Ray 2
Ray Davies: X-Ray 3
Dave Davies: Kink 1
Dave Davies: Kink 2.

Book: David Bowie: A Life by Dylan Jones - All the Young Pseuds

Nice jacket

This book should be titled ‘All the Young Pseuds’ …

I learnt more about a book’s subject in two pages of James Kaplan’s second biography of Frank Sinatra, Sinatra: The Chairman than I did in 600 of Dylan Jones’s David Bowie: A Life.

As is often the way with works like this, you find out more about the people interviewed and more about the author (who seems to have a very low opinion of celebs, as he styles them, generally, but acknowledges that Bowie did not as a rule fall into the same traps – you get the idea however that, if required to nod and smile and agree with a celeb, he would), than you do about David Bowie. Despite his low opinion, he does not have enough chutzpah to edit some of the more pointless interviews or quotes. It’s as if he set out to interview people he knew through his role as editor of GQ, rather than ask the people who knew Bowie best.

Of course it’s a pitfall of any biographic text. Kaplan has opted for completism so to compare the two is a little unfair as Jones’s book is more like a series of snapshots of certain scenes in the screenplay of Bowie’s life. Unfortunately they bear more resemblance to some holiday snaps of my childhood when a little boy managed to feature in the corner or background of all our pictures, with Bowie being the boy there by happenstance, not the focus of the image.

Aladdin Sane look

Because of Jones’s background I suppose, there’s an awful lot on fashion. Lady Gaga says that she was altered forever by the cover of Aladdin Sane. It’s clear that to her the music is secondary to the look – no real surprise there.

It’s amazing how few people (other stars, musicians, designers, photographers) can refrain from blowing their own trumpet once given the chance so we get a lot of stuff along the lines of:

‘I think he learnt that from me’/’He might have borrowed my idea but he made it his own’/’He was a bit of a magpie’.

Jayne County

Consider this from Jayne County (all I remember is that he/she had something to do with Malcolm McClaren).*

He loved my songwriting … I gave him quite a few ideas. … He loved being surrounded by talented, creative people [i.e. me].

and

I know he was also influenced by a few of the demos I was sending him. … He was supposed to produce an album for me but nothing ever came of that except some of my ideas began popping up on his songs. I don't think it was intentional. … It was mostly the subject matter …

Need I say more?

And this, from Kevin Armstrong about the Absolute Beginners session:

David didn’t turn up with the song fully formed and I would go so far as to say I should have by rights had a co-writing credit on the song.

People can say anything they like now that Bowie’s no longer around to refute it. Some of it may well be true.

Iman and David, so happy together

Everything is allowed the same value or credence. It seems as if little editorial control has been exercised so that the comments of someone who met Bowie on a train once are given the same weight as those of Iman or Tony Visconti.

Then there are those who speculate about why Bowie chose them as collaborators (never too shy to bang their own drum). This usually goes along these lines:

'I didn’t treat him as a star [with the rest of the paragraph typically proving they did] so he liked/respected/trusted me', 'we were kindred spirits, both originals' or 'I was a bit different and he appreciated this'.

For instance, Ivo Van Hove who worked on Lazarus claims that Bowie wanted a director who was:

A little more innovative, experimental, whatever [i.e. me].

Then there’s the depiction of the suburbs, and Bromley/Beckenham in particular, as some kind of cultural wasteland. Hanif Kureishi asserts:

The utter boredom and awfulness of the suburbs … but actually everyone had underground records, they had clothes.

So awful, despite the art clubs, free festival, etc? Despite David Bowie, Peter Frampton, Kate Bush, Siouxsie Sioux, Billy Idol, Mick Jagger, Boy George all hailing from the suburbs? But this is probably how Kureishi relates to Dylan Jones – with his focus on fashion. As if people who ‘had clothes’ were somehow artistically, culturally superior to those who either didn’t or didn’t care.

The whole thing reminds me of a girl who went to a yoga class near where I live (in Sidcup, yes you guessed it, I’m from a suburb in Kent, just like David Bowie), declaring that she was going to move to Camden because she was ‘more of a Camden girl’. I would say it takes more courage to be different in the suburbs than it does in North London. But I believe she probably strove to be different in exactly the same way as the other residents of Camden.

Siouxsie Sioux, scaredy cat

And as for Siouxsie Sioux being petrified of Chislehurst Caves and claiming that kids used to get 'caved in' there. Call yourself a punk or ‘punk icon’? Girl, I thought you’d have more balls.

Or then there are those who consider themselves part of a mutual appreciation society, evidenced by this from Nile Rodgers:

'He had a surprising amount of knowledge about R&B. That’s why we got on so well as he was shocked by what I knew and I was shocked by what he knew.'

Occasionally there’s a meeting of truly pretentious minds, as with Bowie and Tony Visconti:

We were talking about films that we liked, and anything that was from far away and anything that was black and white and made in France or Czechoslovakia or Germany … we had a lot in common.

As if something home-grown or in colour would have no artistic merit while everything opposite would. Again, let’s all be different in the same way.

The Three Tuns

My favourite, self-aggrandising quote comes from Mary Finnigan:

Leave it to me. I know exactly what to do, to turn this into a nice, appealing place that has actually got something in common with the prevailing zeitgeist.

Seriously, Mary? Are you sure that’s how you phrased it? Were you really that pretentious?

This is when they turned a room at The Three Tuns into the Beckenham Arts Lab. Been in The Three Tuns a number of times as I used to work nearby.

Trevor Bolder claims, perhaps disingenuously:

I don't think anyone has ever mentioned this, principally because I don't think anyone actually knows it but Bowie tried to re-form the Spiders when he’d finished the Berlin period. He rang me once in 1978 at home …

Hmm. So you say.

I hate the way Jones prefaces a quote from Martyn Ware, for some reason not included in the interview section with ‘Oh after Bowie died, everyone had a story’ as if this were a bad thing. But if he felt this way, why use the people he’s essentially criticising in his book? Martyn Ware comes across as genuine, something that can't be said of many of those quoted so I’m not sure why he was singled out here.

It’s disconcerting and a bit depressing to discover that the most poorly expressed pieces are from people who write for a living like Hanif Kureishi because their prose turns out to be very repetitive and tedious, eg,

At this stage in his life he was worried that the young people might not like his records any more. He felt insecure, and was obviously at a strange point in his life.
Kureishi seems to say most things at least twice and hardly ever bothers to try to rephrase it.

Kate Moss and David Bowie

Kate Moss (another fashion association) is as self-involved as you might expect:

The first song that really hit me was probably ‘Life on Mars?’ because I think I thought I was the girl with the mousy brown hair [she even manages to get the lyrics wrong so it’s evident she hasn’t listened to the song much]. I thought it was about me. … It touched me because I thought it was my song.

Oh the sheer arrogance.

Leee Black Childers, who I admit I’d only vaguely heard of but who Wikipedia claims: 'recorded the legacy of a theatrical cross over between rock music and gay culture’ (whatever that is) but the fact that he spells his Christian name with three ‘e’s does not endear him to me, says:

The glorious brilliant Gloria Stavers, who taught Jim Morrison to shove his cock down the side of his leather pants so it looked big and bulging. She taught him that so she was a starmaker. And then the call came from David Bowie.

I think it's possible that Jim Morrison might have had a bit more going for him than this but then I’m not a gay man.

Dylan Jones

Sure, I admit that image was very important in Bowie's career but I submit that the music itself was paramount. I'm not sure that Dylan Jones would agree.

I do give him credit for not shirking what I like to call the wilderness years when those of us who loved early to mid-area Bowie lost patience. And perhaps I’ll try to listen to some songs from albums I’d rejected except I don’t really trust the opinions of the interviewees. I’m a fan but not the sort of fan who buys/loves everything by an artist.

Not many of those quoted come out well. I’d say Bowie himself, Nick Rhodes, Elton John, Ricky Gervais (typically self-deprecating), Martyn Ware are some of the few who surface unscathed.

I did learn a few interesting facts, although these seemed to crop up incidentally, one of which is that

‘Wild Is the Wind’ was written by Dimitri Tiomkin and Ned Washington not David Bowie. The other is that Mick Ronson was by all accounts a lovely guy. It’s a credit to the guy and his memory.

Errata:

Page 245 should read Water Rats not Water Rat, I know this because I've been there many times; page 326 should read Noel Edmonds not Noel Edmunds. If you’re going to quote somebody, at least have the courtesy to spell their name right.

*Jayne County (born 1947) is an American singer, songwriter, actress and record producer whose career has spanned five decades. She was the vocalist in Wayne County & the Electric Chairs and has been known for her outrageous stage antics. She went on to become rock's first openly transgender singer.