Tonight, MoMA offers a preview screening of Of Time and the City, the my-hometown cinessay of the critically beloved Brit filmmaker Terence Davies. To go along with it, the Museum is showing the Davies films in their permanent collection tonight, tomorrow night and Saturday. In the current issue of the L, Nicolas Rapold discusses Davies’ subjective cinema:
Born in 1945 in working-class Liverpool, Terence Davies went on to make an art form out of his memories — more than one form, really. On the one hand, there are the hushed, shifting tableau of home and quilted textures of song in The Long Day Closes (1993) — cozy yet beguiling sequences as all-absorbing and carefully appointed as the Hollywood productions that sent a fresh-faced Liverpudlian cadging a shilling from Mum "to go to the pictures." And on the other, there is his wrenching Trilogy (1976-83), three compact shorts that, in late-winter-afternoon black-and-white, churn through school life, young gay torment, filial devotion, bondage and self-imagined future decrepitude.