UK, 1987
colour
mono, English
A British science fiction film directed by Peter Wollen. Production began on 1 December 1986 and ended on 14 December 1986.
Plot Summary
In Jordan, during the “Black September” war between Jordanian forces and the Palestine Liberation Organisation, a British journalists meets a young woman who claims to be an alien robot on a peace mission to Earth.
Credits
Crew
Directed by: Peter Wollen
© Modelmark Ltd 1987
The British Film Institute in association with Modelmark Limited presents. A BFI production
Executive Producers: Colin MacCabe
Produced by: Rebecca O’Brien
Written by: Peter Wollen
Photography: Witold Stok
Editor: Robert Hargreaves
Music: Barrington Pheloung
Sound Recordist: Mandy Rose
Costumes: Cathy Cook
Makeup: Morag Ross
Fractals: Steve Gull
Design: Gemma Jackson
Cast
Bill Paterson (Sullivan)
Tilda Swinton (Friendship)
Patrick Bauchau (Kubler)
Ruby Baker (Catherine)
Joumana Gill (Palestinian)
Press
1987
Time Out no.900 (18 November 1987) p.26-27
Wollen’s film comes across as a two-set Dr Who for adults, complete with political, philosophical and more pettily personal problems; the use of the alien outsider’s way of seeing the world is perceptive and provocative, the plentiful ideas counterbalance the lack of extravagant spectacle. Best of all, the film displays a droll wit (Friendship viewing a typewriter as a distant cousin, or concocting a surreal thesis on the big toe’s importance in the oppression of women) and a surprising ability to touch the heart. With two impressive central performances, Wollen at last proves himself able to direct actors, and has made by far his most rewarding movie to date. – from a review by GA
Monthly Film Bulletin vol.54 no.646 (November 1987) p.323-324; 324-326
Perhaps a little too much of the film is taken up by verbal exchanges about history and geo-politics (“Politics has nothing to do with people, and all to do with maps – a war is the romance of territory”) into which machine-gun-wielding snipers burst, firing rounds out of the hotel room window, forcing the couple to raise their voices in order to remain audible. These ‘Brechtian’ strategies tend to push the characters’ divergent trajectories to the margin: that of the man, in whom a momentary intellectual confusion gives way to erotic fascination, and that of the ‘woman’, self-contained and detached towards the man, amused by the human physiological apparatus. As she gradually works her way from intellectual puzzles to the micro-political reality of her situation, hers becomes, as one would expect, the more interesting transformation. […] Much of [Friendship’s] story […] is told through her clothes. First appearing to Sullivan in the PLO tent nattily dressed in a sensible blouse and a pair of well-cut trousers, she quickly ‘orientalises’ herself, acquiring an extensive wardrobe of ethnic dress, until she finally bids him farewell in the khaki guerrilla outfit made famous by Leila Khaled. Wollen’s camera, with much respect and discretion towards Tilda Swinton, who effortlessly conveys the gradations between college innocent abroad, ironic fairy godmother and fiercely independent spirit, plays on a whole history of pictorial eroticism, from the Flemish masters via Ingres to the androgynous extravagances of early twentieth-century set design. […] At first glance deceptively simple and even austere in its kammerspiel format, with detached scenes and confined interiors more like the adaptation of a play than the short story from which it is in fact taken, Wollen’s film is a concept piece rather than a chamber piece, a crystalline structure for which film, like the videotape into which Friendship’s image-block is decoded, must remain a rather inadequate material support. The more pertinent parallels, perhaps, are with that other film without a passport, Chris Marker’s Sans Soleil. Less poetic in its interplay of voice and image, but equally committed to a political vision of life, Friendship’s Death gives a glimpse of what an English tradition in this most difficult of genres, the film essay, might look like. – from a review by Thomas Elsaesser
Variety 2 December 1987 p.11
Friendship’s Death is a fascinating piece – long on words, short on action, but with a subtle charm and wit that almost makes you forgive some of the naive sci-fi dialog. It will never be a boxoffice boomer, but may travel okay to specialist art houses. Film is held together by fine lead performances by Tilda Swinton (Friendship) and especially Bill Paterson as a cynical journalist, and is helped greatly by excellent production design by Gemma Jackson who has created some richly atmospheric sets. […] The philosophical sci-fi dialog is nothing new, per such hokey lines as “you humans are a barbaric race,” but Paterson’s playing of the witty, cynical journalist is so good the story still comes across as intelligent and ultimately affectionate. Friendship’s Death gives writer-director-film theoretician Peter Wollen an outlet for his fascinations with science fiction and the Palestinian cause. He directs ably, and his work is enhanced by excellent, lush cinematography by Witold Stok. The film’s final scene of a message from Friendship in the form of computer graphics looks like it was a good idea on the page, but hasn’t properly been translated to the screen. from a review by Adam
1990
Cinefantastique vol.20 no.3 (January 1990) pp.54-55
Political film theorist Peter Wollen has gone back to the social science fiction of the ’60s and his own experiences as a journalist in the Middle East, to give us this quietly philosophical film about a stranger in a strange land. […] Within the closed and claustrophobic environment of a hotel room, akin to a one-act play, Wollen explores issues such as the degree of detachment reporters feel from the outside events they must cover. Friendship understands the people and their plight, while Sullivan merely reports the cause and effect of ensuing events without editorializing. Friendship records her thoughts and emotions onto a strange glowing plastic which she gives Sullivan as a parting gift. The primitive computer graphics, couple with Barrington Pheloung’s mesmerizing synthesizer, conclude the proceedings with a soothing, hypnotic effect that is virtually like filmed poetry. – from a review by Les Paul Robley
References
Periodicals
- Broadcast 10 April 1987 p.21 – credits
- Cinefantastique vol.20 no.3 (January 1990) pp.54-55 – review (by Les Paul Robley)
- City Limits no.320 (19 November 1987) pp.20-21; 25 – interview with Peter Wollen; review
- Films and Filming no.398 (November 1987) p.30 – credits, review
- Interzone no.23 (Spring 88) p.35 – review (by Nick Lowe)
- The Listener vol.122 no.3138 (2 November 1989) p.43 – review
- Monthly Film Bulletin vol.54 no.646 (November 1987) p.323-324; 324-326 – illustrated interview with Peter Wollen (Two weeks on another planet by Simon Field); illustrated credits, review (by Thomas Elsaesser)
- Screen International no.577 (6 December 1986) p.2 – credits
- Screen International no.578 (13 December 1986) p.18 – credits
- Screen International no.621 (10 October 1987) p.27 – credits, review
- Stills no.29 (February 1987) pp. – credits (Reel to real: A-Z of production)
- Time Out no.900 (18 November 1987) p.26-27 – review (by GA)
- Variety 2 December 1987 p.11 – credits, review (by Adam)
Books
- Horror and Science Fiction Films IV by Donald C. Willis p.187
