Song of Summer

I last saw this when originally aired on BBC television's, 'Omnibus' series forty years ago and watching it again now, I find I remember little specific but the whole mood. It is just as spine tingling as it was back then. It is sheer perfection. The way it is filmed, the dialogue, the acting, surely there is not a moment out of place. A magical interpretation of Delius' final years with Eric Fenby helping to draw out those final pieces of music. Certainly warts and all, certainly a riveting piece of cinema, even if it were produced within the severe limitations of cash strapped UK TV. The quality of light matches the quality of the music and we really feel we are part of a work of art at the very point of creation. Quite exceptional. I also like Russell's more tumultuous later big screen extravaganzas but it has to be said he set the bar pretty high for himself in 1968.

The music of Delius seems to be an acquired taste. I acquired it at the tender age of 17 (perhaps just about the right age). I have heard only one piece of Delius performed live since then, a performance, and a very fine one, at the Juilliard School of his last opera, "Fennimore and Gerda." It's a shame that this beautiful music can only be heard (in the U.S. at least) on recordings, for the most part. But thank God there are the magnificent recorded performances of Sir Thomas Beecham who seems to have had an almost mystical understanding of Delius's unique style.

And thank God, too, for this wonderful film, which shows that (despite all evidence) Ken Russell once on a time had an enormous talent and impeccable taste. (What happened? Unfathomable. Oddly, though, his 1990's TV version of "Lady Chatterly" -- unlikely material indeed -- shows by and large the same kind of tasteful restraint exhibited here. Ultimately the silliness of Lawrence's ideas does it in -- not Ken's fault though, really.) The performances of Max Adrian and the late lamented Christopher Gable are remarkable. Gable as Fenby is perhaps the more remarkable, in that this was his first film role ever, after retiring from a career as a ballet dancer. He's really fine, and quite handsome as well. And Adrian is simply brilliant, without the excess he frequently exhibits.

And you can see the whole thing (albeit in 9 discrete segments and less than ideal -- though not bad -- video) on youtube! Highly recommended.

This TV film from 1968 about the last 5 years in the life of composer Frederick Delius is a moving and memorable experience thanks to director Ken Russell and the three stars.

Max Adrian is astonishing as Delius, a man crippled and blinded by disease. Despite his afflictions, his mind is sharp and his musical talent undiminished. Also excellent are Christopher Gable as Fenby, the young man who comes to Delius' country home to help him finish his work. And matching these performances is Maureen Pryor as the devoted wife, Jelka.

The household is truly odd with musical genius Delius at the center of everything. To him, nothing matters but his music. Fenby becomes a devoted member of the household as he loses his orthodox views about religion and marriage and becomes a member of the family. Jelka maintains the home and the semblance of normalcy, but it is revealed that she has sacrificed her own talent as a painter to serve Delius.

Russell gets very close to showing us the inner core of creating art, rather than just playing Delius' music. We see that this creation is a struggle against chaos and against the humdrum daily needs of life. With Fenby and Jelka as his buffers, Delius is able to work.

All three stars worked with Russell in other film projects. Most notably, Pryor was in THE MUSIC LOVERS, and Gable and Adrian were in THE BOY FRIEND (one of Russell's best films). Max Adrian was nominated for a British Oscar for the latter film. In SONG OF SUMMER, all three stars give award-worthy performances, and Russell shows us just how good a director he could be.

This is a must-see film for art and music lovers and ranks with CLEOPHAS AND HIS OWN as among the great art films.

A middle-age composer is struck down by paralysis and blindness brought on by syphilis. All the music still living inside him must remain there forever, or so it seems, until a young man volunteers his time to bring that music to life. Such is the remarkable but true story of Frederic Delius and his amanuenses, Eric Fenby.

In 1929, Eric Fenby was a young man living in England, a frustrated musician earning money by playing background music for Laurel & Hardy films. One night, he reads in the paper of Frederic Delius' tragic plight and, possessing a young man's impulsiveness, decides to go to Grez-sur-Loing, where Delius lives with his wife, Jelka, and offer his assistance.

When they first meet, it is NOT a meeting of the minds. Delius (played so wickedly wonderfully well by Max Adrian) says he wants to compose and he starts humming. Fenby, in frustration, realizing the uphill battle he has taken on, asks, "What key is it in, Sir" and Delius loses patience with the well-meaning young man. An uneasy start, to be sure, but by the end, previously unheard music finds its way onto paper and into concert halls.

This is a wonderful little film, part of a PBS series titled "Biography." The series had been narrated by Lady Antonia Fraser and she did a wonderful job introducing the film and understanding just what a miracle had occurred in 1929 when Fenby decided to help Delius.

But this movie is far from being maudlin and you do NOT end up feeling sorry for Delius. Despite being blind and paralyzed, he is not without talent and he certainly isn't without wit.

When Fenby asks him what he thinks of certain composers, he says of one, "He would have set the entire Bible to music if he'd lived long enough." He also decides to act as a father to Fenby - not having children of his own and being so much older than Fenby, it probably was natural in the course of their relationship. Being an atheist, he suggests Fenby get rid of his "great Christian blinders" but Fenby, being a devout Roman Catholic, ignores this suggestion.

But, later in the film, Fenby ends up being the "parent" as Delius becomes sicker and Jelka develops stomach cancer and requires surgery. He had served as a confidant to Jelka and it is from her that he (and we) learns what Delius was like as a young man - his incredible womanizing, the brutal way he treated Jelka and finally, his contracting syphilis from the women with whom he had slept.

And in the end, no matter how tragic their plight, Delius and Fenby together brought to light some incredibly beautiful music - the music that inspired the title and the picture. It runs like a thread throughout the film and gives it a joy and a hope you would not expect considering the subject.

This wonderful movie is well worth a look if it ever appears on TV again. It's available on British DVD but not on American DVD or VHS. That's a shame. However, the music that inspired it is available on CD and is also well worth listening to. And viewers will be amazed at what Fenby gave up - and what we all got - as a result of his service - which lasted for 5 years until Delius died - to a great composer. We are all blessed by the sacrifice.

Just caught up with this wonderful piece again. I too met Fenby once (briefly) ~ a lovely man (and a bit shorter than Gable, if I recall).

Am I wrong, or is the film clip Chris G is seen accompanying at the start not 1937's Way Out West? Or does that dance appear in an earlier, silent film by L&H?

And it's always intrigued me that Melbourne's Percy Granger is not given an Aussie accent. Okay, he was of English stock and spent some years there but by the time of the story he was living in the States and was a US citizen. And I know he was a fitness freak but he doesn't look 24 years older than Fenby here! In fact David Collings and Christopher Gable were both born in 1940. The best link between Collings and Granger is that both were born in Brighton ~ Brighton Sussex and Brighton, Victoria respectively.

Enough trivia. My main fascination here is that this film expresses most succinctly what I have often called "(Ken) Russell's Paradox" ~ a question he later asked about Gaudier-Brzeska, Tchaikovsky and many others. How can some great artists live such sordid or cruel ~ at least self-obsessed ~ private lives and still bequeath those moving, inspiring and downright humane works to us mere mortals? Or, as Fenby puts it here "I can't reconcile such hardness with such lovely music?"