{"id":9421,"date":"2021-05-19T14:53:00","date_gmt":"2021-05-19T12:53:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/stolb01web.ddns.net\/wordpress\/?p=9421"},"modified":"2021-05-27T14:59:20","modified_gmt":"2021-05-27T12:59:20","slug":"another-way-of-seeing","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/stolb01web.ddns.net\/wordpress\/?p=9421","title":{"rendered":"Another way of seeing"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

There are few works of contemporary fiction that have left their mark as profoundly as Colson Whitehead’s<\/a> 2016 best-selling, prize-winning novel, The Underground Railroad<\/a><\/em>. A magically realised narrative, a tour de force that takes the reader on an uncompromising journey amongst souls, alive and dead and and in the murky depths in-between; through their suffering and degradation; on a restless search for absolution for sins not committed and some dignified resolution, and to be granted sanctuary; a place to call their own, a place to rest without fear or sacrifice – even when it be the final.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

In only three sittings I have brought to a conclusion Barry Jenkins’ brilliant adaptation of the novel. Presented as a ten part series on Amazon Prime<\/em>, I would have to say that this is a format very well-suited for such an intellectually and viscerally powerful work, and I am not sure it could be easily pared down to feature film length. (I really wasn’t looking to sign up for another streaming service, but the chatter of late had become so intense and the temptation too great.) <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Admittedly, some of the opening scenes are discomforting, even threaten to overwhelm with their brutality, but there is this one undeniable reality – the barbarity of slavery – that must be confronted before the layers are stripped back to lay bare the soul of the characters – in whatever world they inhabit and wherever their journeys may lead. The alert viewer will recognise early that Jenkins is operating on multiple planes of narrative filmmaking; not just that of a stark, unadulterated realism, but that which blends tangible human experience with the emotional response and psychological mechanisms without which those experiences could not possibly be endured – memories and dreams; as alive as the cotton boll, as the whip, as the next to be lynched, but holding the promise of a way to freedom.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Another outstanding aspect of the series is the haunting soundtrack from Nicholas Britell that accompanies most every frame; conjuring an extraordinary atmosphere of foreboding, of unrelenting disquietude, of an unresolved tension between the living and the dead. As a taster, a guest essay by Scott Woods<\/a> – excellent read – in today’s New York Times<\/em> led me to the following on Vimeo<\/em> (fifty odd minutes, so give it time); Barry Jenkins visual homage to his extended cast is augmented by Britell’s musical composition. (And, here<\/a> is a wonderful NYT Magazine<\/em> piece on Britell, and a close up on his collaborative creative process with Jenkins. )<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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