Un dimanche comme les autres

I first saw this at 17 in 1971 and was of course struck by the frankness in the portrayal of the relationship between Murray Head and Peter Finch. People in the suburban audience where I saw it SCREAMED when the two men first kissed. (Someone screamed at a director's screening of the film, much to Schlesinger's consternation. It turned out to be Finch's wife.) One of the reviewers complained about Head's acting, but he is playing a very shallow character whose youth and beauty attract Glenda Jackson and Finch. The film holds up really well today with its complex characters and lack of stereotypes and simple judgments about people. There is also enormous charm and humor in the film, especially in the supporting players. The imagery in the film stays with me--the dog killed by a car, the Mummy's milk in the fridge, the inner workings of telephone switching, driving through the rain in London, men and women making love, precocious children smoking dope, and so much more. It feels like life. It also made me a lifelong fan of Finch, who went on to win a posthumous Oscar for "Network," and Jackson, a two-time Oscar winner, who represents Hampstead in Parliament now. Probably my favorite film of all time.

Alex Greville (Glenda Jackson) is a London divorced working mom who is having an affair with modern sculptor Bob Elkin (Murray Head). Daniel Hirsh (Peter Finch) is a traditional Jewish doctor who is suffering from mysterious pains and is also having an affair with Elkin. Both know about the other relationship as well as having mutual friends. Both are willing to live with the situation but it can't really last.

For all the affairs going on, this movie is very cold. All three people are a little emotionally dead inside. It's not a fun movie. It does not make this a compelling watch. Their relationships are like slow sleepwalking in sadness. The constant emotional self-destruction grounded me down.

I recently saw Sunday, Bloody Sunday and thought it was brilliant. I was suprised it came out in 1971, it is definitely ahead of its time. The highlight of the movie is Peter Finch's role - it took guts to take a role like this back then. I'm glad he eventually went on to win the oscar for Network.

As the 1960s become the 1970s in London, England, a successful male doctor and divorced, female recruitment consultant both try to maintain a relationship with a self-centred younger man.

Fascinating period piece, exploring the reality of the late sixties 'free love' ideal - she loves Bob, he love Bob, Bob loves... well, nothing substantial, as it turns out. Mixing in ghastly 'of their time' friends (ex-hippie-types Alva and Bill and their dreadful kids), Sunday, Bloody Sunday is at once both dated and contemporary - set in a time of economic chaos and dealing with a taboo which, in 2009, still seems at least unsettling. Jackson and Finch are brilliant, apologetically yet furiously settling for all the crumbs they can get from their cool younger lover, although under Schlesinger's direction, Head is much less successful - whilst he captures Bob's egotistical nature, there's no counter-balance of charm, leaving the viewer wondering exactly what is either Alex or Daniel really see in him.

Ground-breaking story-telling then, and all kudos to Gilliatt, Sherwin, Janni, Schlesinger and Peter Finch for bringing this grown-up picture of early 70s contemporary life to the screen.

After reading about John Schlesinger's death I felt the need to revisit some of his considerable opus. I couldn't decide where to start, Billy Liar, Darling, Far From The Madding Crowd or Sunday Bloody Sunday. If a film could really penetrate the brain of a character, Sunday Bloody Sunday, showed it to me. I saw into Peter Finch's soul to such degree I was kind of embarrassed and compelled at the same time. Murray Head, personifies what Finch's character longs for and is kind of horrified by. Glenda Jackson and Peter Finch play the imperfect angles of this painfully human triangle. The charming shallowness of Murray Head's character made me understand the complexity of knowing and accepting all of our darkest contradictions. John Schlesinger was a great artist.