Convincingly representing childhood experience in any creative medium is
notoriously difficult. In film, quite apart from the well-documented problems of
directing child actors, there is the question of approach to consider, since
representations of children vary greatly, from nostalgic portraits of innocence,
through to dark, disturbing, and nightmarish visions. Once these challenges are
met, there still remains the challenge of finding an appropriate visual style to
convey the child's world.
In Sammy Going South (1963), the story of a 10 year-old orphaned by the
British army's attacks on Port Said, Egypt, in the Suez conflict, the child's
viewpoint is repeatedly stressed by the positioning of the camera. When Sammy
talks to his mother as he plays on the floor, we see only the mother's legs.
When two statues of pharaohs loom before Sammy, low angle shots make them appear
even more imposing, as they would to a little boy. Carol Reed's The Fallen Idol
(1948) begins with a similarly aged child, Felipe, looking down through
banisters (a commonly recurring shot in films dealing with childhood),
emphasising the child's limited perspective. Felipe's interpretation of events
proves crucial when his imagination fills in the gaps of what he has not
witnessed, leading him to conclude that his idol Baines is a murderer. The
childish mind may be innocent, but it is also dangerous.
In the Dickens adaptations of David Lean, the director employs some memorable
point of view shots, as in Oliver Twist (1948), when, while escaping from police,
Oliver is knocked out by a punch. The effect was created by camera operator
Oswald Morris being pushed in a pram and running the camera into a waiting fist.
In Great Expectations (1946), childhood fears are evoked by low angle shots of
thrashing trees overhead, just before the justly celebrated scene in which Pip
runs straight into the convict Magwitch. Later, on Pip's nighttime journey to
the churchyard, talking cows emphasise his childish imagination, accusing him of
stealing and heightening his feelings of guilt.
Despite the accusations of sentimentality towards children often levelled at
Dickens, and the undoubted influence of his work on their representation,
children in British films are typically less cute and romanticised than their
counterparts in Hollywood. Even so, there is a historical tendency in British
films to focus mainly on upper- and middle-class children, well-bred and
respecting of society's rules. This tendency has led some films to examine what
might happen to children when these rules break down, a trend begun with Lord of
the Flies (1963), based on William Golding's novel in which open warfare breaks
out between rival groups of boys marooned from the adult world. Walkabout
(UK/Australia, 1970) exiles two British children in a harsh environment - the
Australian bush - where behaviour is ungoverned, and where their learned social
values are put to the test.
The childhood idyll provides a more common cinematic theme, often located in
a general or specific rural past. Numerous nostalgic films, from the first
screen adaptation of the classic Tom Brown's Schooldays (1916) to later
adaptations such as Swallows and Amazons (1974), and The Railway Children
(1970), depict childhood through a (mostly) rose-tinted lens. The Railway
Children, particularly, sees children as innocent and loving, while even the
bullying in Tom Brown's Schooldays is essentially character-building. When
harsher settings are used, such as the Lancashire farm in Whistle Down the Wind
(1961), they nevertheless often counterpoise an idealistic portrait of the
children who live there. Despite the eventual loss of childhood innocence in
Whistle Down the Wind, the character of Kathy Bostock, played by Hayley Mills,
evokes the wonder and purity of childhood, without ever really displaying any of
the more negative traits often associated with children.
The films of Alexander Mackendrick (Mandy, 1952; Sammy Going South; A
High Wind in Jamaica, US, 1965) allow darker representations of childhood. Here,
as in The Fallen Idol, children have an unconsciously destructive influence,
sometimes even endangering the lives of those who wish to help them. Ratcatcher (1999) also highlights this destructive - even deadly -
potential. More extreme representations appear in horror films such as Village
of the Damned (1960) and The Innocents (1961),
which question children's natural innocence and foreground adult fears.
Childhood experiences shape the adult outlook on life, sometimes providing
inspiration for a personal style of filmmaking. The first two parts of Bill
Douglas's Trilogy (My Childhood, 1972; My Ain Folk, 1973; My Way Home, 1978),
based on the director's memories of childhood in a Scottish mining village,
paint a bleak portrait of characters normally ignored in cinema. In Children
(1976), the first part of his own trilogy, Terence Davies illustrates how acts
of violence on a young boy continue to affect him years later, using a process
of extended flashbacks. Similarly, The Go-Between (1971) slowly
reveals a narrative taking place not in the present, but rather in the memories
of an old man. Mainly told from the viewpoint of the man as a boy, the film
progresses to the traumatic and formative moment when he confronts a sexualised
adult world he fears and does not understand.
Children in such films are often a means to examine the adult world as well
as their own. Mandy portrays a deaf child sent to a specialist school, where she
begins to learn to communicate, but the film is equally concerned with the lack
of communication between adult characters. Mandy's presence reveals the
emotional handicaps of her parents and teachers alike. The Winslow Boy (1940)
similarly uses a child to examine others' motives. The heart of the film lies in
the dilemma facing the boy's family and barrister Sir Robert Morton, not with
the boy himself, who remains remarkably unaffected by events.
All these films feature children, but are aimed largely at an adult audience.
Successful films produced for children, of course, form a vast market in their
own right, dominated through much of cinema's history by the Disney empire. In
Britain, a much smaller company emerged from the Rank Organisation to become the
Children's Film Foundation, founded in 1951. The Foundation produced films to a
formula designed to keep children's attention: lack of action, excessive
dialogue and too many characters were avoided, while favourite subjects included
animals, pirates, treasure and sport, all designed to entertain while
stimulating educational interest. Titles such as Go Kart Go (1963) and The Magnificent Six and 1/2 (1967-71) give a clue as to the
content of the films. The Children's Film Unit, established in 1981, went
further, making films not just for, but also by children, and found the support
of industry figures such as Steven Spielberg.
The most popular genre for children is the fantasy or adventure story. Adults
are regularly absent or ineffective in these films, allowing children to save
the day. The Jungle Book (1942) deems conventional parents
unnecessary, and the hero rejects corrupt civilisation in favour of a jungle
utopia. In Hue and Cry (1946) adults are either blind or
untrustworthy, while childhood energy, solidarity and an innate sense of justice
ultimately triumphs over villainy. John Boorman's tale of wartime Britain, Hope
and Glory (1987), sees the rubble of bombsites as a childhood paradise beyond
parental authority, and schools are demolished to the cries of joyous
students.
Anarchy can be fun, but the most successful contemporary film series provides
a less subversive example for children, corresponding more closely, perhaps, to
their deepest desires. Based closely on J.K. Rowling's phenomenally popular novels,
the Harry Potter films, beginning with Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone
(2001), feature an identifiable hero, one who defeats monsters, yet suffers the everyday problems of school children. He is without
parents, independent, yet longs for a loving family, reflecting the need for
security every child has. The young wizard's popularity lies in they way he
appeals to children's anxieties, while allowing them to triumph over fears. He
sees the world through their eyes, not always understanding, but learning from
experience, emerging from behind the banisters to face life's difficulties.
David Morrison
Further Reading:
Neil Sinyard, Children in the Movies (B.T. Batsford, London, 1992)
|
