A Premier: "Always the years between us, always the years. Always, the love. Always, the hours"

Queue the fanfare! I have decided to start a new section of the blog. Move over Fi’s Favourites; there is a new kid in town. I have yet to name this section, but I am sure inspiration will strike sooner or later. Fi’s Favourite Scenes doesn’t have enough of a wow factor.

Ever since I was first introduced to the medium of film, I always enjoyed returning to my favourite scenes and replaying them over and over. As a child, I rewound my videos to my favourite scenes. It’s not like I watched them ad nauseam or anything, but every so often I return to a select few moments that have been forever seared into my brain, so as to feel that emotion again.

Films create such wonderful moments and, sadly, once something is seen, you can never ‘un-see it, but if I go back to a particular moment, I can relive that feeling, which I think just proves what profound effects films and stories can have on you (or maybe it's just me). It does seem a little bit like blasphemy to other enthusiasts to skip ahead or rewind to my most emotive moments, but rest assured I have seen each film in its entirety first and, more often than not, I end up watching the whole thing again once I am reminded of a scene

So why not dedicate some of my posts to those scenes? We are certainly setting the bar high with my opening selection - a film I have briefly touched on in another post [ I will tag the relevant post] and have been dying to return to ever since: The Hours, more specifically Leonard and Virginia's conflict. I previously used this film in a comparative study, praising it for its reality and its ability to communicate such deep emotion, even when our protagonists aren’t saying anything. So let us go further and examine what makes this a faultless scene. I have to provide context to the scene in order to discuss it, and so spoilers are a given.

The precursor: married couple, Leonard and Virginia Wolfe, have moved to the English countryside to get away from busy London life in an attempt to aid Virginia's depression. Her history has her husband in a heightened state almost constantly. When he realises that she is not at home for supper, he panics and rushes to find her. Virginia is quite calmly sitting on a bench in a quiet train station, awaiting the next train to London. And so our scene begins...

Like most brilliant and emotive scenes, the build-up is key and that is the genius of this scene; things that seem small and insignificant build to this huge emotional crescendo. So, how does it achieve this? Well, it is a combination of many things all working together in perfect sequence.

We start with the very gentle sounds of the idyllic English countryside being disturbed by Leonards pounding, frightened steps. His running slows to a jog upon finding his wife. Initially, their dialogue is light-hearted, considering their true emotions and mental states at this time. Virginia is coy and teases her husband, as many couples do, while Leonard's fear is masked by the angry relief we have all felt when we find someone who intentionally gets lost.

What is most impressive here is what is being said between the dialogue and how the film makes us know what the real dialogue is. They use the mundane aspects of life, like needing to eat supper, to initially mask a more difficult conversation and then as an avenue to get to the core of their feelings.

So often in film, people have such heightened, emotive and gut-wrenching conversations and monologues, and do so with ease. They are reamed off as though they are reading from a well-prepared speech on a sheet. Most people struggle immensely with being vulnerable, even in a marriage. What needs to be said often comes from unusual and very normal places, like dinner.

This tit-for-tat and making jabs and digs continues for a while; one voice is raised and then the other. There are very real interjections from nosey women wanting to overhear the details of marital discord in order to, no doubt, gossip about later on. In good old English fashion, Leonard looks over his shoulder, not wanting to air his dirty laundry in public.

The initial bickering boils over as the pair push each other over the edge. Once a difficult conversation has started, you spill out everything that has been bottled up and you push the other person to expose themselves to say what might hurt you, but what you also need to hear.

All of these other elements would mean nothing without convincing and outstanding performances. This scene yielded Nicole Kidman's only Oscar and it is well and truly deserved, but Stephen Dillane as Leonard is the star of the scene. The key to a wonderful performance is its nuances, for instance, his hesitations before some of his most emotive lines of dialogue, words that any husband would struggle to say to the woman he loves. His emotional range is so real, hitting highs and then trying to calm down, rein it back in and continue an adult discussion. His thought process is visible in all of his nuances. We know what he’s feeling and thinking without him even speaking. It is in his face, in his body. The ebbs and flows, the rhythm, the body movement, gestures, highs and lows are done without thought, naturally. You can see what needs to be said building up inside and how it sounds angry, but is ultimately loving. This quiet man has reached his breaking point.

As the scene progresses, Virginia explains the extent of her suffering and a soft, slow orchestral piece gently finds its way into the scene. While Virginia discusses her desires, which everyone but her knows will cause her demise, she searches her husbands face to try and read his reaction before he speaks. It is agreed that they will return to London. Virginia is relieved, while her husband knows what this means.

It is the moments after this life-changing decision that is the genius of this scene and what has made it stick with me all this time. The music reaches its climax, timed beautifully with the arrival of the train, cementing Leonard's reality that he will be returning to the place that nearly killed his wife. The performance is just so perfect. At first, he attempts to brush off his emotions and disguise them, but, ultimately, he is overcome by the weight and reality of all of this. He lowers his head and his face just crumbles. He is devastated and all his wife can do is watch. You can see how unhappy she is seeing her husband distraught, but also how she is happy that she has taken control of her own life.

And just like that, we return to what brought us here in the first place: dinner. With the simple question of “Are you hungry?”, the seriousness is dropped and both are relieved by the return to reality and practicality. Smiles are exchanged. They have no choice but to move now knowing that their world has changed forever, and probably not for the better. Leonard and Virginia blend in with busy crowds coming off the London train. Virginia leaves us with her wise words: “You can not find peace by avoiding life, Leonard”.

I think it is pretty damn obvious that I love this movie and, moreover, this scene. Films, in general, can be good or even incredible, but may not achieve such a perfect scene. I return to this scene and always will because of all of the perfect individual elements that come together to form a beautiful moment. It is so emotive, yet real and relatable. So much is communicated, not just in words, but also in sound and expression. This is a wonderful film, but, in my opinion, even the most wonderful films fail to create a scene as fantastic as this.