The Depths of Despair: Bill Douglas' 'My Childhood' (1972)

(Blog written Spring, 2017)

(My Childhood)

Upon graduating from the London Film School (BFI, 2003-14), Bill Douglas embarked upon making a trilogy of films about his brutally bleak and impoverished childhood, the first of these being My Childhood (1972). These films offer an unrestricted gaze into the dark recesses of Douglas’ memory, which is ultimately a truly haunting, atmospheric experience.

With Douglas’ reputation as an ‘art film’ director, it is no surprise that My Childhood (1972) is an unconventional social realist film, and his unique attention to framing “goes beyond meticulous” (BFI, 2003-14). The lack of dialogue and emphasis on visual patterns makes it almost a silent film, in the sense that it relies heavily on the bleak cinematography to create an encompassing feeling of dread. Furthermore, the characters’ lack of voice in the film is a metaphor for their lack of power over the great sufferings of their life, which are far deeper than economic. Along with the cinematography this creates a world void of hope, a painful reminder of the reality Douglas once knew. In this respect, it is not an easy film to keep up with, and requires sharp attention and a hard heart.

Perhaps my favourite scene was when Tommy’s bird, his last beacon of hope, dies and he runs to the bridge to envelope himself in the smoke of a train. The cutting between the trains engine and the image of Tommy running behind prison-like fences tragically express both his need to escape, and his inability to do so. He then engages with fantasy as smoke wraps around him, appearing at times to whisk him off into the wind, only to then see him remaining, covered in dirt. It is a scene of true poetic beauty that is an exceptional piece of artistry and an emotional whirlwind, much like the film wholly.

Bibliography

British Film Institute (2003-14). ‘My Childhood’ – BFI Screenonline. http://www.screenonline.org.uk/film/id/514187/index.html

Filmography My Childhood (1972) Directed by Bill Douglas. UK, BFI.