FILM REVIEW: All Of This Unreal Time - Manchester Central, Manchester.

En route to see an arthouse film about an odyssey through the streets of London, I experienced my own odyssey through Manchester’s cobbled streets: but where Cillian Murphy only suffered a soggy hoodie due to lying on his back in a puddle, I tripped, fell face down & ruined my pristine ballet pumps. 

Such minor pedestrian concerns, however, were immediately forgotten on entering Manchester’s Central Hall - a breath-taking, cavernous disused railway station, rendered hypnotic and atmospheric with a pounding industrial beats soundtrack and blinding flashing lights. At the end of the hall, the words “I came out here to apologise” screamed in pink lettering on a large screen.

The intense 45-minute film installation piece that followed was clearly inspired by and used the pandemic as both a backdrop and a metaphor. Scripted by novelist Max Porter (fresh from his former collaboration with Murphy on the stage work ‘Grief Is The Thing With Feathers’) a lot, almost the world, is packed in. Murphy’s angst-ridden hooded figure rampages through a dark, wet, and lonely city; traversing ugly, neon-lit streets, tunnels, and car parks at night. He vomits up a stream-of-consciousness monologue, raging against himself, his family and the world. He ranges widely and wildly, from the anecdotal and intensely personal & specific, to the abstract, macro-political and societal. The sins of the father, God, patriarchy and male violence, the exploitation and barbarism of man towards the planet, the environment and each other are all alluded to, and from which, out tumble feelings of anger, regret, guilt, shame, disappointment - and he apologises to the whole world.

But then something happens: an epiphany. The fierce cathartic confessional, bordering on self-indulgence at its peak, gives way to something softer and more pastoral as dawn softly appears. Darkness lifts, prose gives way to poetry, the harsh soundscape dissipates and birds, trees and signs of the natural world appear. The character finds himself beginning to forgive himself and begins to show some signs of understanding and tenderness towards both himself and the world, reminding us all that we are human: fallible and weak but worthy of redemption 

This pure artistic form of contrition and cleansing – and the metaphorical and physical progress from dark Covid into light – is a truly immersive experience, with Porter’s beautiful and symmetrical structure and at times biblical, poetic, allusion-packed language. The score, by Jon Hopkins, Aaron Dessner and Bryce Dessner, is as overwhelming as the film’s relentless angry verbosity, using harsh musicality and binaural ambient layers but then, finally and thankfully, gentle, subtle and diegetic sound.

The next day, once the overwhelm had passed and I had time to breathe, I was left with resonance and reflection, being grateful that the programme had contained the whole soliloquy; it’s something to return to and take succour from, with layers to unpick and muse over at leisure. The final lines, life affirming, calming and thankful provide a prayer for our plagued times:

‘Every day is a last day
As every day will always be,

And it is more than enough.’

The film is now available to watch online, on the MIF 2021’s On Demand website here: Ticket Delivery - Manchester International Festival (mif.co.uk)

Reviewer - Tracy Ryan
on - 2.7.21