Truant and Fifteen – my early films of 1960s teenage life

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Truant and Fifteen are short, silent, fictional dramas that I made as a teenager when I was experimenting with filmmaking.  Truant is a four minute movie in which a young boy (played by my 10 year old brother Richard) decides to miss school for the day.  The camera pans from the imprisonment of the school yard to open fields and woods.  The boy runs towards the trees, hurling  his school satchel down the slope ahead of him.  He spends the day by a small river fishing and making an improvised catapult from his sock garter (normal boys’ wear at the time).  Early the next morning, he attempts to forge a letter to explain his absence from school, but his mother comes in to the room and finds him …

I made Truant when I was 13 or 14 and it won a minor prize in the Amateur Cine World annual film competition of 1960.  Looking back to the time, it’s possible to see parallels with the fourth act of Truffaut’s Les Quatre Cents Coups (1959), where the motif of the abandoned satchel heralds Antoine Doinel’s (Jean-Paul Leard’s)  truancy.  And the close-up on Richard’s stricken face at the end of the film matches the final shot of Antoine Doinel’s capture.  But I don’t think I had seen Truffaut’s film at that time, so perhaps the resemblances are just something to do with the zeitgeist.

In Fifteen, made two years later, Richard is growing up and the world of boyish abandon meets teenage party culture of the early 1960s.  He is the leader of a gang of boys who race their bicycles around the suburban streets.  They find an abandoned motorcycle in a sloping field and all four ride it down to the bottom of the hill, powered only by gravity and their combined weight.  Though it lacks an engine, the motorbike hints at the possibilities of adult life.  Finding a party invitation addressed to me (his older brother), Richard goes in my place and tries to pick up a girl, but is rebuffed.  Again, the film ends with an image of isolation as he leaves the party alone.

I made two alternative endings to Fifteen.  The one I didn’t use is presaged by the scene in the film (after the motorcycle run but before the party) when Richard is given a drum kit for his birthday.  He is shown playing the drum with skill, and the later party scene contains shots of a guitar band, The Gravediggers, whose drummer is conspicuously drinking.  In this optimistic scenario, Richard’s skill saves the day when the drummer becomes incapacitated.  He is welcomed into the band and becomes the toast of the party.  Although I shot some of the scenes for this scenario, I felt it lacked plausibility and that a darker ending was closer to experience.  In the event, Richard leaves the party alone and the final scene shows him walking up an empty road.  The only possible Truffaut reference here is the use of a red filter with black-and-white film stock to give the effect of night during daylight shooting (la nuit americaine).

Fifteen is both thematically and technically a progression from Truant. The title of the film is taken from Beverly Cleary’s teenage novel, Fifteen, which I have never read, but which I believe also deals with problems of teenage identity and relationship. The film is more than twice as long as Truant, and the technique is more assured.  The close-ups of straining faces during the bicycle race still convince within the diegesis, although the participants were not actually moving at the time. The original film was accompanied by a tape-recorded soundtrack, mainly music composed and played by The Gravediggers.   This was synchronised to the projector by use of a home-made strobe disc which I designed in accordance with instructions in Amateur Cine World.  The projector (a 1940s Specto 9.5 mm machine) had a variable speed control (using a rheostat).  I mounted the strobe disc on one of the sprocket spindles and used the speed control to keep the strobe markings apparently still, moving neither to the left or the right.   As the speed of the reel to reel tape recorder was relatively well governed, this produced acceptable synchronisation of picture and sound (although, of course, lip-sync was not possible).

The audiotapes have been lost, and, in any case, the magnesium oxide coating that holds the audio track would have perished over the last 50 years.  But I can still remember the music composed by Andrew Speedy of The Gravediggers, and I shall attempt to recreate it and add sound  to the digital version of the films.  In the meantime, here are the original silent movies, in digital mode.

Reunion

REUNION

I’ve never been very keen on reunions. I haven’t been to very many. I’ve often been invited to school and university anniversary events, but the longer I’ve been away from the institution, the less I usually want to return. The feeling of alienation that I had when I was a student only strengthens as time passes. And yet – recently, I went to a reunion that was very pleasurable.

It wasn’t a formal reunion: in fact it was the funeral of a friend’s mother. I’ve known David since I was nine, and it was Martin, whom I’ve known for longer (his house was opposite mine when were were growing up) who suggested I attend. He told me that two other school friends would be there. Neither of these I had seen for nearly fifty years. I had a particularly strong visual memory of T: tall and lean, with fair hair and a crewcut, he had been a runner and oarsman, and, like myself, good at English.

Martin and I stood outside the newly built crematorium chapel. We were early, but as people began to arrive, I noticed one crossing the grass from behind a line of cars: tall and lean, with fair hair and a crew cut. It is uncanny to recognise someone with complete surety after fifty years, but T’s athletic lope had also not changed.  I recognised J, the other former contemporary, but my memory of him was fuzzier.

After the funeral, conversation at the buffet was highly enjoyable. T’s partner joined in uninhibited discussion of life events of the last fifty years, and the conversation gave no quarter to the solemn occasion. T and I had both spent a number of years teaching secondary English, yet in very different schools. Martin, who had always been known for encyclopedic general knowledge, had reached the semi-final of the BBC Radio Brain of Britain competiton. David had reunited with a partner from whom had separated twenty years before, and she was there with him at the funeral.

It is not hard to say why I found this event so pleasurable. Despite my reticence about meeting again people I had known in the distant past, I have always loved the idea of reconciliation. The Winter’s Tale and The Tempest are two of my favourite Shakespeare plays. Although my contemporaries and I had never formally parted, it was warming and strengthening to see them again.

Attachments formed during our formative years may sustain us in later times. Our identity is formed in relationship. To return to those relationships, with the wisdom and experience of fifty years of differing life trajectories, can be very nourishing.

And, yes, we are going to organise a formal year group reunion.