The Choral:
It has been more than thirty years since Director Nicholas Hytner’s first film, The Madness of King George, earned him raves and Oscar notice. His follow-up, The Crucible, starring Daniel Day-Lewis, Joan Allen, and Winona Ryder, was also well-regarded. After two films, Hytner was on the verge of becoming a major filmmaker. But then there were disappointments: the films of his that were well received by critics (The History Boys and The Lady in the Van) did not find an audience.
The Choral marks Hytner’s first feature film in ten years. Set in a small English town during the middle of the First World War, Hytner’s latest film tells the story of a choral society’s efforts to put on a show amid a dearth of male voices due to conscription. To make matters more difficult, the chorus master has enlisted as well, resulting in the need for his replacement.
The choral society settles on Dr. Henry Guthrie, a brilliant but difficult man played by the great Ralph Fiennes. While the performances throughout The Choral are commendable, Fiennes is a one-man elevation system. In a film that is mostly an ensemble, Fiennes’ chorus master is the best reason to see the movie. Dr. Guthrie should be an easy replacement for his predecessor, but Guthrie has spent six years living in Germany, England’s enemy in the war. He is also believed not to be a “family man.” Fiennes wears these complications with a mixture of grace and resentment. He is comfortable with who he is, but has little patience for those who are not. Try as they might, the choral society cannot control their chorus master, which results in a great deal of figurative nail-biting.
The Choral is also beautifully shot, with terrific period production design and a literate screenplay. Unsurprisingly, Hytner showcases a deft hand with drama and comedy.
While Hytner’s film probably isn’t quite heavy enough in the drama category, it does have one extraordinary scene. After a young soldier returns home after being injured in battle, he finds that he is going to go through life missing more than his arm. The girl he couldn’t wait to come home to had moved on. Naturally, he is heartbroken. The young man has a beautiful, one-of-a-kind voice that stops the chorus master and the society in its tracks. Yet, he is miserable. As he sits with Dr. Guthrie, he laments the misery of his condition and the disaster his life has become. Without saying so many words, he sees no value in his future. Guthrie leans ever so slightly forward, and in that way that few other actors can, Fiennes, with a countenance both pained and hopeful, says, “So sing.”
In that moment, The Choral speaks to a greater truth. If all but our voice is lost, what then must we do with what little we have?
“So sing,” Doctor Guthrie says, and the broken boy sings.
The Choral is more good than great. It seeks to please just a little too hard to earn its eventual uplift fully. But if a solid movie can be recommended strongly for one single scene, The Choral is that film.
Divia:
From war-torn Ukraine, Divia is a most unique documentary. I’m not even sure that “documentary” is the right word. It’s certainly not fiction, but there are no interviews, there is no narration, and there aren’t even any title cards. The closest comparable would be Godfrey Reggie’s two groundbreaking films, Koyaanisqatsi and Powaqqatsi. Those two “documentaries” were a mixture of music and visuals. The first focused on primitive cultures and technology. The second on humanity’s separation from nature.
As original and exceptional as those two movies are, Divia has a far more bracing vision: how war impacts nature. The word “Divia” refers to the Slavic goddess of nature. One would be hard-pressed to find examples of her work in this film.
Divia begins with scenes of animals in the Ukrainian wild. Deer, moose, and hogs scurry about as one might imagine. Then, in short order, we hear explosions. The animals run. We then see a wider shot of the wreckage war has brought to their habitat.
Unlike so many other documentaries about war, Divia largely pulls away from the cities into rural areas and the coast. So much of the Russian invasion of Ukraine has focused on population centers and cities. Divia reminds us that war is not only a crime against humanity, it’s a crime against nature.
What the film understands is that humans can kill and defeat other humans, but humans can only wound nature. This planet will live on long after we are gone. All we can do is destroy our ability to live on it. Sure, we can, have, and are doing significant harm to wildlife, but were I a betting man, I would lay my chips on some manner of fish, fowl, and herd animal adapting to whatever mess we create, than us outliving them. The odds are in their favor.
One of the most haunting sequences in Divia is of mine sweepers going about their work. They move slowly. They flag the mines. Then they disarm them. Sometimes they feed stray cats. It looks like the loneliest job in the world.
As Divia comes to a close at nightfall, bombs hit the earth and light up the evening sky. It looks something like lightning from the ground. It is terrifying because we have spent the previous hour plus seeing the damage those bombs have done. When daylight breaks, there will be more.
There is no end in sight.
Divia is currently seeking distribution as it moves through the festival circuit. The film will be shown later this year at the United Nations. Divia is a painful reminder that humankind never seems to learn. We just keep fighting the same old battles, chasing our extinction.
These two films, in their own specific ways, illustrate that while art is needed at all times, it is particularly necessary during the darkest of times.
These are the darkest of times.
