Shadows Of Progress Review

• 15th Nov 2010

This new collection from the BFI aims to shed a light on neglected British documentaries from the postwar era. The result is a 32-film strong set that’s panoramic in its coverage of British life.

The Island, the first disc in the collection, covers a broad range of issues, including feminism. To Be A Woman (1951) is an interesting time capsule, a well-constructed argument for equal pay for women that’s more sound logic than vitriol, to suburbia. Faces of Harlow (1964), which shows the optimism and prosperity of the early new town. For me, though, the highlight of this disc is the NSPCC-sponsored Henry (1955), which follows a child who leaves home at night, to the sound of his parents arguing, to explore the nocturnal city. It’s more cinema than documentary, but what an entertaining piece of cinema it is, as we see the wide-eyed titled character discover the night-life of Central London to a buoyant jazz score.

The second disc focuses more specifically on the socially disadvantaged, beginning with Thursday’s Child (1954), which covers the experience of a school lesson for deaf children in the fifties. From here, People Apart (1957) and There Was A Door (1957) cover epilepsy and Down’s Syndrome respectively. The latter being a particularly moving account of the plight of sufferers of the condition in the society of the time. Return To Life (1960), for which the disc is named, is one of the strongest films on the disc; a call for empathy and support for refugees that still holds relevance today.

Stone Into Steel (1960) on the third disc – the industry-themed Shadows Of Progress – is perhaps the most striking film in the collection. A dialogue-free journey through the workings of a steel works, beautifully shot and set to a dramatic score, it’s as much a piece of arthouse cinema as it is an informative film. Paralleling modern-day environmental concerns are those expressed in the BP-sponsored The Shadows Of Progress (1970), which looks at the need for alternative energy and conservation. It’s an attractive film, full of beautiful landscape shots, with an optimism for man’s potential to change his relationship with the environment that feels sadly quaint in today’s climate.

Today in Britain rounds off the collection with some films that look at the postwar boom. The titular government-sponsored film (1964) is a terrific bit of state propaganda, boasting of the past achievements of the nation and its present prosperity; it’s a sweeping portrait of a country that had never had it so good. Portrait of Queenie (1964) is a fly-on-the-wall look at the fascinating title character – an east-end barmaid and blues singer, that takes in both the glamour and kitchen-sink realities of the London pub scene.

It would be hard to find a more comprehensive dissection of life in postwar Britain: the scope of this collection is simply vast and the range of topics covered is matched only by the range of documentary styles employed. It’s fascinating, informative, occasionally beautiful viewing.

Adam Richardson