Events

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On June 22nd, Hyde Park Picture House hosted a rare screening of Ken Russell's film, Savage Messiah, based on the life and work of Henri Gaudier-Brzeska. Written from his hospital bed, Ken's letter was read by by Mike Bradsell the Film Editor of Savage Messiah. Ken and Mike have kindly given us permission to reproduce this letter online. An introduction to the screening by Lisa Le Feuvre preceeds Mike's reading of the video.

From Ken Russell to the Henry Moore Institute

Read Aloud by Mike Bradsell, Film Editor, Savage Messiah
22nd June 2011
Lymington Hospital, Hampshire

 

To Dr Jon Wood, Kirstie Gregory and the Henry Moore Institute and all who have seen or are about to see my film SAVAGE MESSIAH about sculptor Henri Gaudier-Brzeska, whether for the first or a repeated viewing.  Many thanks to Dr Wood and his colleagues for instigating this rare cinematic showing - the first in 40 years - of my best film SAVAGE MESSIAH.  I'd be here myself if I weren't recovering from a small stroke in hospital, and I am proud to have a friend in England's most talented film editor Mike Bradsell, who agreed to stand here in my place. 

Since he edited this and many other of my films - the best ones, certainly; DEVILS, BOY FRIEND, WOMEN IN LOVE and others, and the most recent ones, too, like BOUDICA BITES BACK - he is uniquely qualified to speak for me and has my permission to tell tales out of school on me - something he is better placed than anyone to do, after 50-odd years of working together (though he reminds me to mention that he is, of course, considerably younger by a good 15 years than myself).

SAVAGE MESSIAH is the tale of brilliant young sculptor Henri Gaudier and his beloved soul partner, Polish would-be writer Sophie Brzeska.  Destitute and similarly alone in London, their solitudes joined up, as Rilke might say, and they combined hearts and artistic ambitions and names, hyphenating the names Gaudier and Brzeska into a spiritual marriage, pledging one another their "troth," though she was 20 years older than he. 

Gaudier was Ezra Pound's favourite sculptor - but at the time of my movie's beginning, he was unknown and struggling. 

Along with Henry Moore, coincidentally, Gaudier was my favourite sculptor, too.  I felt I owed a debt to Gaudier for keeping my spirits alive and hopeful during my early years of desperate attempts to get a toehold in the creative arts, through my ballet dancing, my abstract paintings, my '50s black and white photography and my amateur filmmaking - while I shared an old boarding house with a group of fellow starter-uppers for whom conditions of abject poverty were no deterrent to dreams of glory. 

Knowing Gaudier's story of diligently learning his craft and vigorously applying his genius against impossible odds and mockery, I too became inspired to stay the course when things looked gloomy, when the mice overran the place, when the gas ring wouldn't light, when there was no hot water except once a week, when my only meals were the decaying vegetables tossed through my open window for a lark by Portobello Road vendors; when it became clear that starting ballet at 20 was a little late to achieve greatness. 

I was easily becoming known as a late bloomer in all of my artistic endeavours. . .though I had started precociously as a keen 12-year-old film projectionist, showing rented German expressionist films in the garage to friends and family during World War II's bombing of my hometown of Southampton.

Living in London as an aspiring aesthete in my 20's, who had scandalously rejected going into my father's retail shoe business, I landed a meager job in an art gallery which featured Sickert because I blagged my way into pretending knowledge of him after studying at the library - "ah, yes, the Camden Town period - very brown. . ." 

Making amateur films with my fellow boarders was my delight.  I paid homage to my enthusiastic bohemian period after getting a job on the BBC arts programme Monitor, when I made a documentary on sometimes-starving artists Colquhoun and MacBryde in Two Scottish Painters, then one on then-unknown Peter Blake and others in Pop Goes the Easel, then on Rousseau in Never on Sunday, then on Isadora Duncan in The Biggest Dancer in the World, then on the pre-Raphaelites in Dante's Inferno. 

Finally, I had a chance to make feature films, and eventually a feature film on a visual artist - my heroic sculptor, Gaudier-Brzeska. 

In what I felt was essential for an artist, at last my homage would be in glorious technicolour.  I could pour into my film my gratitude for Gaudier-Brzeska's inspiring example. 

I included all I felt I shared with him about the noble pursuit, against insufferable odds and an indifferent public, to answer an artistic calling - to express what felt most valuable and urgent inside. Gaudier-Brzeska was my connection to passion, endurance and bravery, as well as the perfect example of the hard work which I knew it took to create anything even close to one's heart and vision.

I was keen to realise my dream of doing justice first to Gaudier-Brzeska and then to Jim Ede's book (i.e., H.S. Ede).  His book resurrected Henri Gaudier's letters to Sophie Brzeska, as well as describing Ede's personal collection of Gaudier's then relatively unknown work, shown to me at Ede's home in Kettles Yard in Cambridge. 

To do homage to Gaudier-Brzeska and make this film, I was willing to double-mortgage my house and drain my savings -  MGM classified it an "art film" (no-budget), although they promised to accept the finished product since THE BOY FRIEND had done well for them.  The wonderful Lee brothers, a couple of sparks (electricians), put up some funds and the use of their studio, a London biscuit factory. 

My stalwart team - Derek Jarman sweating production design on a limited budget and crafting the Easter Island head, Paul Dufficey painting numerous forgeries of Old Masters, Dick Bush as director of photography using mostly natural light, Christopher Logue the poet (also acting the part of Richelieu in THE DEVILS), scripting with me from Ede's book, and Mike Bradsell, the editor with whom I was most psychic, enabled me to make magic. 

I was lucky in actors - the wonderful Scott Anthony - whom I would love to see again, but have no idea where he's got to - the exquisite and emotive Dorothy Tutin (primarily a stage actress at the time) and Helen Mirren as Gosh Boyle, the feminist art groupie who suffers from "cosmic boredom" (and plays nude descending and ascending a staircase) - plus actors I repeatedly liked to work with like Lindsay Kemp, John Justin, Imogen Claire, Peter Vaughan and Judith Paris.

I don't think Helen Mirren was crazy about me - but she has the restraint and graciousness not to brag too often about her distaste. I found her bold, talented, sexy and a little intimidating. 

Michael Garrett did the music score and I used Scriabin and Debussy as well.

Henri Gaudier-Brzeska's passion to create, mirrors my own madness - which is why the name Ede used to describe him (and I repeated), "Savage Messiah," has come to be the name most often used to describe me in print - not always flatteringly, I admit.

Like Gaudier-Brzeska, I believe in that spark that must be ignited, that vision that must be shared, come what may. 

I met my wife Elise through this film, beginning a correspondence with her in 1972 when she saw SAVAGE MESSIAH, a correspondence which resolved itself in marriage eleven years ago after she was satisfied I had somewhat matured.  This film is very dear to my heart.

Thank you for honouring me by showing and seeing this film.  Congratulations to Jim Ede on the well-deserved re-publication of his book.  Long live Gaudier-Brzeska and Sophie.

 

Art has no frontiers,

Ken