Richard III & The Greyfriars Project 6: The Cortege

Richard III's Coffin Approaching Bow Bridge (With Car Park Beyond), West Leicester,
March 2015

I’m not normally a big fan of official or royal pageantry, or for the Monarchy in general.  However, it would have been bad manners not to watch Richard III’s remains being borne back into Leicester for the second time, last weekend, (the two events being separated by half a millennium).  The cortege passed only a couple of hundred metres from my own front door, after all.

Bow Bridge (With Distant Dignitaries), West Leicester, March 2015

I’ve taken only a passing interest in the whole palaver over Richard since the discovery of his skeleton, famously - “beneath a Council car park in Leicester” [1.], in 2012.  I was genuinely intrigued at the time, and wrote several posts on the subject of the University of Leicester's Grey Friars Project.  Certainly, it was interesting to watch how what initially felt like a fairly low-profile local event, became a major international news story focused on my own back yard.  However, much of the period since has been taken up with dispiriting and unseemly disputes over whether Richard’s final resting place should be in Leicester or York, (or, possibly, Westminster Abbey); also over the disruption to the city centre caused by the redevelopment of the area around the Cathedral and new Ricardian Visitor Centre [2.]; and even over the austere aesthetics of his newly-designed tomb.

Onlookers And Car Park Signage, West Leicester, March 2015

Richard’s reputation since his brief reign appears to have been almost entirely made up of sub texts.  Five hundred years later, - the major sub text, (even as this much-maligned monarch was being rehabilitated [3.]), was the question over which city would cash in on the tourism bonanza his name might inspire.  For better or worse, Leicester won that contest, (an unusual event in itself), and Mayor Soulsby’s vision of a redeveloped historical portal to the city centre - with the new royal tomb at its heart, is largely complete.  Finally then, it’s time to reinter the bones, - this time with rather more dignity than Richard’s battered corpse enjoyed after his defeat at Bosworth Field; and to get on with re-writing the history books all over again.

Bow Bridge, West Leicester, March 2015

Thus, I strolled round the corner, in gorgeous early Spring sunshine and lengthening shadows, to join a few thousand others who had gathered to watch Richard’s cortege pause at Bow bridge to be officially welcomed back into the city.  The bridge marks the historical boundary between city and county, (as ever, I find myself just beyond the pale), and, as the cast iron plaques on its Victorian masonry attest, holds a particular place in the whole Richard III mythology.

Richard-Related Signage, West Leicester, March 2015

Interestingly, this location seems to attract commemorative plaques and information boards in ever-greater numbers, effectively becoming Information (or Misinformation) Central.  A few feet away is the old, ornate carved legend, suggesting that the discredited king’s body may have been thrown into the water below; the Richard III Society’s small panel - seeking to redress that propaganda slight; and an even more recent information board, dedicated to the bridge and its role in the whole story as it’s now understood.  To all this can be added the local street names, many of which, (including my own address), relate to Richard and the Battle of Bosworth.

Richard-Related Signage, West Leicester, March 2015

Naturally, this links in with my fascination with urban texts, and the multiple, layered meanings and historical interpretations that might be read into our surroundings, in a psychogeographical sense.  In reality, my genuine historical interest in the period, is largely focused: firstly, - on the ways that historical evidence or ‘the facts’ (however sparse), are managed to reflect one current orthodoxy/vested interest or another; and secondly, - on how those stories we tell ourselves become monumentalised in our surroundings.

Photo Opps., Bow Bridge, West Leicester, March 2015

The Florists Will Have Done Well From All Of This.

In the event, the crowds, whilst not immense around Bow Bridge, were deep enough to prevent me obtaining unobstructed views of the coffin and the dignitaries who assembled to greet it [4.].  As it was always likely to though, my interest became somewhat Meta, and shifted rather to the contexts surrounding the processing of the royal remains.  Most of my photos became about the audience themselves [5.], about the jostling for photo opportunities next to the old cast-iron plaque, or just about the other associated signage.

Car Park Signage, West Leicester, March 2015

Given the location of King Richard’s rediscovery, it seemed ironic that his coffin should be overlooked by a couple of other workaday car parks as it paused at Bow Bridge.  At least one of these is on the site of a vanished factory building, - itself symbolising the radical shifts in Leicester’s economy over recent decades.  In this context, the Council’s attempts to remodel the city as another hot spot on the A-Level History trail [6.] might make some sense.  Intriguingly, another claims to offer ‘Simple Intelligent Parking’, (that’ll be the day), whilst appealing for more vacant land.  In fact, if their plans pay off, The Council may need all the parking spaces it can get.  Disputes over that issue in the city is, however, a whole other story.

Car Park Signage, West Leicester, March 2015

Perhaps predictably, as the shadows lengthened and the crowds dispersed, all this yellow parking signage, (and some relating to the logistics of King Richard’s ceremonials), eventually became my main subject.  T’was ever thus…

Richard-Related Signage, West Leicester, March 2015

[1.]:  How often have I heard this slightly derisory buzz-phrase repeated in the media over recent months?  It does, of course, play directly to the image, in the general public imagination, of Leicester as a singularly drab, uninspiring kind of town

[2.]:  Let’s face it – many of the denizens of Leicester do love a good moan, given the opportunity.

[3.]:  Of course, we can never really know the true nature of Richard's character, or how much validity there may or may not be in the accusations levelled at him.  For what it's worth, my own hunch is that he was probably just another power junky with a sense of entitlement, living in a period of civil war, (pretty much like the rest of his class, in fact).  He also appears to have been capable of quite enlightened rule during his short reign.  A flawed but multi-faceted personality, perhaps, then, - rather than a pantomime villain.

[4.]:  I’d be lying if I claimed the noble words declaimed over the P.A. by the City Fathers will live long in my memory.  I will, however, always associate the event with scrambling amongst crackling undergrowth (and the occasional abandoned rough sleeper’s camp), to gain a slightly elevated view from the adjacent patches of wooded landscaping.

[5.]:  Amongst the enthusiastic, the quietly respectful, and the just plain curious, was the usual occasional drunk, naysayer or proselytising eccentric.  I’m sure it was much the same the first time round, and to a greater extent.  At least, this time, no one was trying to further disfigure the corpse of a perceived villain.

[6.]:  Stratford, Warwick and Kenilworth Castles, Lady Jane Grey’s Bradgate Park, and indeed, Bosworth Field, are all just up the road.  You can see how this isn’t an altogether bad plan, and how somebody may be trying to join a few dots.

R.I.P. Terry Pratchett

Sir Terry Pratchett, 1948 - 2015

The world of literature, (indeed, the world in general), is rendered a little duller by the passing of author, Sir Terry Pratchett, yesterday.  There’ll be plenty of folk lining up to pay tribute to him, but I’ve had a lot of fun with his books over the years, and it would be churlish not to add a few lines of my own.

Generally bracketed as a Fantasy writer, Pratchett was Britain’s second highest selling author and, certainly, his work is the exact opposite of difficult or obscure ‘great literature’.  In fact, whilst employing the full panoply of wizards, dwarfs, trolls, supernatural characters, etc., the books are actually intelligent parodies of a much-derided genre.  He wasn't adverse to playing with readers' expectations by incorporating a little of the Wizard in his own appearance.  Beyond that, the books operate as satires of our own society, and the foibles of human nature in general.  Most importantly, they’re nearly always just plain funny.  I’ve read many of his most famous ‘Discworld’ novels, usually  when I just wanted some good, honest entertainment, and have never encountered one that wasn’t a proper page-turner.

True Wisdom Is Never Pompous

Behind the humour, and the ample evidence that intelligence and entertainment need not be mutually exclusive, the books indicate an author who was always keen to tilt at those who would drain the joy from life.  He was clearly intolerant of  bigotry, fundamentalism, cruelty, or the hunger for power without responsibility.  Mostly though, his characters tend to be indulgent depictions of complex human fallibility, rather than two-dimensional symbols of good or evil.  Most of them are just trying to cope, (and maybe make a buck on the side, should the opportunity arise).  There’s a suggestion throughout the books that great feats are as likely to be performed through cock-up theory as anything grander, and even predestination might need a bit of patching up to help it along sometimes.

Sir Terry died at the relatively early age of 66, and his later years were famously blighted by his struggle with early onset Alzheimer’s disease.  Nevertheless, he continued to write without any perceptible diminution in his imaginative powers, and was an energetic campaigner for increased research into dementia in general.  He’d also expressed his belief in the right of the terminally ill to choose voluntary euthanasia.  In the event, it’s pleasing to hear he died in comfort, surrounded by family and accompanied by his sleeping cat.

Josh Kirby, Artwork For: Terry Pratchett, 'Mort', 1987

Discworld’s most memorable recurring character may be Death.  Despite his skeletal appearance and inescapability, he’s a surprisingly resigned and empathetic character who proves in ‘Mort’ [1.] that sometimes, even metaphysical personifications need a break from routine and a little, well - fun.  It’s tempting to imagine Death and Sir Terry settling down for an enjoyable chat, as I write.



[1.]:  Terry Pratchett, 'Mort', London, Victor Gollancz, 1987

Stephen Knight: 'Locke'

I finally got round to watching Director, Stephen Knight’s movie, ‘Locke’ [1.], the other day.  I was reminded of the film by Shaun Morris’ blog mention to it, a few weeks back, - recalling that it was one of those that fell through my net when on limited cinematic release in 2014.  For a while I kept forgetting the title too, - in another of those disquieting indications of advancing middle age.  Anyway, whilst buying milk and potatoes in Sainsbury’s recently [2.], - there it was on DVD, and at a price that it would have been rude to ignore.  It turned out to be a right bargain.

Still From: Stephen Knight (Dir.), ' Locke', Shoebox Films/I M Global, 2013/14

Like another recent favourite from last year, ‘Under the Skin’ [3.], ‘Locke’ is a low budget/high impact example of how many of the best film makers are squeezing really interesting results out of pretty economical means these days.  Like that film, it also features a very strong central performance from a relatively mainstream actor, (in this case, Tom Hardy as the eponymous Ivan Locke), working under somewhat experimental conditions.

Still From: Jonathan Glazer (Dir.), 'Under The Skin', Film4/BFI, 2013/14

In ‘UTS’, some of the most intriguing scenes were those in which Scarlett Johansson’s emotionally blank alien prowled the streets of Glasgow in an anonymous white van, as reflected lights and glimpses of the outside world played across the windows of her enclosed cab like a film within a film.  ‘Locke’ takes that to even more symphonic visual extremes; becoming an elegy to the unceasing, hypnotic parade of vehicle lights we’ve all experienced while travelling in cars after dark.  The vaguely Post-Rock atmospherics of Dikon Hinchliffe’s score also contribute admirably to that mesmeric world [4.].  However, whilst Scarlett eventually got to walk about and interact with others, (however haltingly), in an alien landscape beyond her vehicle, Hardy spends the entirety of this film behind the wheel, on a single, solo, motorway drive.  His only interaction with a small cast of additional characters, (and the only way that the plot can therefore advance), is via a constant stream of phone calls, and those few occasions when he talks out loud to himself or to his imagined father.

At this point, a little exposition is probably necessary.  We first encounter Ivan Locke as he gets into his car at a massive construction site in the West Midlands.  He is, we learn, a highly accomplished concrete specialist, respected for his dependability, and a solidity of character matched only by the materials he works with.  As the story gradually unfolds through his numerous phone calls, we also learn he enjoys a stable family life with two adoring sons and a devoted wife.  He commences his journey on the eve of “the largest concrete pour in Europe, outside of the nuclear or military industries”, (a PR phrase he repeats throughout the film with increasing resignation, like a mantra of jeopardy).  He should be on his way home for an enjoyable family evening watching football on TV and an early night.

Still From: Stephen Knight (Dir.), 'Locke', Shoebox Films/I M Global, 2013/14

Instead, Locke sets off to drive to London in order, it transpires, to attend the premature birth of a child he has fathered as the result of an uncharacteristic, brief liaison with an emotionally fragile woman he hardly knows.  This single act, based on his unshakable need to subsequently ‘do the right thing’, stems from a deeply held resentment towards his own absent and unreliable father.  It also triggers a train of events in which the certainties of career and marriage unravel over the phone as he drives on through the night.  Relieved of his official post, he still attempts to fire fights the several crises besetting the preparations for the concrete pour remotely, (via an increasingly panicky subordinate).  Simultaneously, he fields calls from, amongst others, his wife, his sons, his superior, medical staff, and the terrified mother-to-be waiting at the end of his journey.  The film ends as he nears his destination, having, in two hours, seemingly lost everything, “apart from myself and the car I’m in”.

If, as I’ve seen it billed, ‘Locke’ is a thriller, it is purely one of an implied or psychological variety.  Relatively little actually happens on screen, (in terms of action, - loads happens in other respects), yet the events overtaking the subject are life changing and existential in nature.  By limiting the main character’s arena to a few cubic feet of enclosed interior space, events can only be internalised by him, and his psychology be thus laid bare.  I’m tempted to make connections with Joel Schumacher’s thriller, ‘Phone Booth’ [5.], in which a flawed protagonist is forced to confront his own actions behind glass and over the phone, with a sniper who has him pinned down in a telephone kiosk.

Still From: Joel Schumacher (Dir.), 'Phone Booth', Zucher/Netter Productions, 2002

Naturally, the success of a character study such as this hangs on the lead performance.  I know very little about Tom Hardy, other than that his previous work appears to have been in fairly mainstream blockbusters.  It’s all the more impressive then that his work here is so controlled and focused.  His Ivan Locke is a man clearly used to dealing with the world with unflappable logic, and a hitherto unshakable belief that everything can be put right through determination and perseverance.  He is a man, as his wife puts it, whose very footprints turn to stone.  The certainties on which he has attempted to base his life are paralleled by the need to create the most stable concrete foundation possible for the tower that’s being built. 

Certainly, there’s nowhere for Hardy to hide, as his face necessarily fills much of the frame for the vast majority of the film.  He proves adept at conveying the growing sense of exasperation overtaking Locke in admirably subtle ways.  Even when he does let loose, it’s to himself, and he repeatedly tries to reset himself to his rational, softly spoken default state before fielding the next disquieting piece of information.  Even as he is forced to admit he may even be going a little mad, the impression is that this is just another issue that will have to be dealt with.  Some actors might attempt to convey all this with increasing levels of cartoonish derangement but Hardy communicates it mainly through subtle changes in facial tension or vocal intonation, and the occasional momentarily frustrated slump over the steering wheel.  Such anger as may be building within him, appears mostly blanketed by bemused stoicism.

Still From: Stephen Knight (Dir.), 'Locke', Shoebox Films/I M Global, 2013/14

‘Locke’ subjects its protagonist to considerable existential/psychic travail, but it’s striking how this plays out within completely technological contexts.  It’s a distinctly First World fable.  Ivan Locke’s life may be unraveling, but it does so from the comfort of his BMW’s leather upholstery, and via its integrated, hands-free communication system.  It’s a reminder of how even the scariest parts of our lives are often insulated from the outside world or mediated through channels.  The downside is, as so many now find, that he must be constantly available to others, and is required to deal with multiple situations both simultaneously and remotely.  The point he appears most lost, but also, most cut free potentially, is that at which he just lets his phone ring.

Still From: Stephen Knight (Dir.), 'Locke', Shoebox Films/I M Global, 2013/14

Essentially, Locke’s real problem is that, as a consequence of his own actions, everyone now wants a piece of him.  Forced to prioritise, - he’s unable to square the circle of keeping everyone happy, and the price he must pay for abiding by his own code of personal ethics becomes massive indeed.  Only as he starts to doubt his own sanity do we glimpse the cracks in his personality.  His strange personification of “The Concrete”, the suggestions of the hubris often attributed to builders of towers, and the accusations leveled at the father he imagines in the rear-view mirror, all point to that code being as much based on psychological fallibility as on nobility or calm reason.  Perhaps it’s a singularly male tragedy that those destined to suffer most, (himself apart), are those closest to him.

I suppose, given my own current enthusiasms for concrete and driving at night, and a general taste for a little psychology with my drama, it was inevitable I’d be drawn to ‘Locke’.  It stands up as quality gear in its own right though, and I’d recommend it to anyone who doesn’t require every film they see to be populated by superheroes and Hobbits, or to mostly resemble a computer game.  It’s up there with a handful of movies I’ve seen over the last couple of years, all of which manage to be intriguing and pleasingly experimental, without becoming completely elitist in their avant-garde affectations.  Like ‘Under The Skin’, ‘A Field In England’ [6.], and ‘The Double’ [7.], amongst others, it also proves that the most satisfying and thought-provoking cinema is often now made without an extravagant budget or overwhelming digital trickery.

[1.]:  Stephen Knight (Dir.), ‘Locke’, Shoebox Films/IM Global, UK, 2013/14

[2.]:  Should I be concerned by how often routine trips to the supermarket feel worthy of comment on this blog just lately?  Are my horizons too narrow?  Am I spending far too long in these vacuous places?  (Dunno, - Possibly, - Yes).

[3.]:  Jonathan Glazer (Dir.), ‘Under The Skin’, Film 4/BFI, UK, 2013/14

[4.]:  Albeit not quite as experimentally as Mica Levi’s much vaunted ‘Under The skin’ score.

[5.]:  Joel Schumacher (Dir.), ‘Phone Booth’, Zucker/Netter Productions, USA 2002

[6.]:  Ben Wheatley (Dir.), ‘A Field In England’, Rook Films, UK, 2013

[7.]:  Richard Ayoade (Dir.), ‘The Double’, Alcove Entertainment/Film4/BFI, UK, 2013/14