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Second of a trilogy (with Too Long a Sacrifice, ITV, tx. 13/11/1984, and
Rehearsals, Five, 2005) shot by Michael Grigsby during Northern Ireland's
'Troubles', The Silent War is not unique in concerning itself with the 'ordinary
people' caught up in the conflict. But it stands out for its skilful and
sensitive way it puts their voices at the very heart of the film. There is no
commentary, except for a female voice reading a letter to an imagined character
(a device probably borrowed from Humphrey Jennings' A Diary For Timothy, 1946).
Otherwise, the film is made up of the faces and voices of Belfast people in
natural settings, intercut with images and sounds of the
conflict.
The Silent War has both poetic and observational
qualities, but it is also a political film, revealing a controlled anger at the
British state for allowing the conflict to continue so long. Though shared by
many of the film's audience, this view breached the bipartisan political
consensus of many years that the UK government was acting as an honest broker
between opposing sides of a divided community.
In fact it is Grigsby's differing treatments of the 'two communities' that is
most problematic. Much greater screen time is devoted to representatives of the
Catholic / republican community than to those of the Protestant / loyalist one.
This perhaps reflects Grigsby's instinctive political bias, or even of that of
the London media. Equally arguable is that Grigsby is deliberately attempting to
counter an establishment bias in mainstream news reporting. The lack of balance,
however, probably reflects circumstance as much as intention. Predating the IRA
ceasefire by five years, this cannot have been a straightforward or safe film
for the English Grigsby and his crew to make, leaving them dependent on those
they could coax to appear on camera. The general reticence of loyalist
communities and their greater distrust (paradoxically) of the 'mainland' media
may partly explain their relatively infrequent and less vocal appearances.
Still, Grigsby's real sympathies clearly lie more with human beings than with
ideologies. Whereas their Catholic counterparts' conversations betray their
nationalist perspective, the Protestants are not recorded making political
statements. But they are treated sympathetically as warm human beings and as
equal victims of the conflict - in marked contrast to the British soldiers
patrolling the streets, who appear as silent and unsympathetic symbols of the
impersonal state that is the film's main target.
Patrick Russell
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1. Introduction (1:28)
