Andrea Dunbar had a short and by most accounts, miserable life. She grew up in a deprived corner of Bradford, had children by different men, drank to excess and then, five days before Christmas in 1990, aged just 29, she collapsed in the toilet of her local pub and died from a suspected brain haemorrhage. Theres not much there to fire up the middle classes, I mean, what a set of boorish clichés, eh? It might elicit a sigh and, if in liberal company, a round of isnt that just dreadfuls. But Dunbars no ordinary prole. In whats likely to be a profound intellectual challenge to snobs of all stripes, she was a gifted playwright who succeeded in turning her difficult background into art, a woman who was both acclaimed in her lifetime and trapped by her circumstances. To what degree the circumstances of our birth inform our life chances is the structuring theme of
Clio Barnards novel documentary. Its novel for two reasons, firstly for eschewing the standard mode of presentation, refreshingly, in favour of cinematic quality; no dry talking heads sitting in front of a felt background and intercut with stock footage here. Barnards style is an extension, perhaps evolution of Dunbars own method, whereby actors played the real people who shaped the narrative in the affected voice of the real protagonists. Now the affected voices are real voices. Dunbars plays, The Arbor and Rita, Sue and Bob Too, filmed by
Alan Clarke in 1986, dramatised events traditionally, creating fictional counterparts for the living. In Barnards film actors once again stand in for Dunbar and a real cast of characters, but instead of a script, they lip sync to the testimony of those recalling the events. The effect is eerie but undeniably involving. The films other novel approach is to break with convention and solve the problem of Dubars brevity by continuing her story through her children. Barnards captivating and ultimately moving idea, is to effectively sequelise the playwrights works, maintaining the Brafferton Arbor as the setting, while updating the story to incorporate the ruinous effect of a troubled upbringing on Dunbars mixed race daughter, Lorraine.
Scenes from Dunbars plays are performed where they were set, to a real audience of locals who look on with interest. Biographical in nature, the use of these scenes showcase Barnards command of the material and the extraordinary focus that makes this superior documentary filmmaking. Were introduced to Dunbars work, presented with her background, particularly her drunken father and the tension caused when she gets pregnant by Asian man Yousef (
Jimmy Mistry) in what was then a predominantly racist community. These excerpts also lay the foundations for Lorraines story, later teased out using harrowing personal testimony and some telling reactions from her white brother and sister. Barnard documents a cycle encompassing depravation, abuse and violence in intimate detail, making cast iron connections between Dunbars struggle with her own latent racism and subsequent ill-treatment of daughter Lorraine and the troubled girls decent into self-loathing, drug abuse and prostitution. Its an even handed and responsible profile that recognises the playwrights important contribution to British theatre without turning away from the vulnerable and flawed human being that she was.
The anecdotes, arguably more eye opening that anything Dunbar wrote, explore the paradox of the writer. Here was a woman who had a great eye for detail, like the best working class writers, and a demonstrable understanding of how social forces impacted upon peoples lives. She was, nevertheless, a prisoner of that system, a soak, that nearly burnt her children to death in a drunken stupor, setting the sheets on fire and then effectively locking them in the room under the guise of trying to keep them warm. She struggled with her own prejudices, referring to her own daughter as a paki and saying that she regretted having her, due to Lorraines mixed parentage, while the child was in earshot. This insensitivity, ignorance and selfishness is the hardest thing to understand about a woman who was gifted a natural intellect and the drive to use it. Given expressivity by the actors dramatising the words, the recollection of Dunbars white children show the difference their race made, both to their view of their mother and their assessment of Lorraine Dunbars subsequent failings. This, I felt, was what The Arbor was ultimately all about; whether it was the community, brought so vividly to life by Andrea Dunbar that failed Lorraine, the writer or the daughter herself? Perhaps the answer is all three, to some degree or another, but theres no denying the sadness and sense of waste thats brought to bear by Lorraines story. The girl who fell into prostitution, endured almost unimaginable abuse, lost children to social services and a two year old to death, describes her first prison term as the best time of her life and you dont doubt her. Its an appalling tale with a poignant postscript.
The closing scenes have Lorraine reading from her Mothers play and speculating on what she might have written in her place. Its either sad or fortunate, depending on your point of view, that Lorraine can only know her mother through her work, but it prompts all sort of emotions, maybe dramatic ironies the tragedy that Dunbar didnt live to do more, the pity that Lorraine never found a similar creative outlet for her own woes. Its a reminder of what a rare talent Dunbar was and that without that spark many of us are little more than a conflation of gruelling statistics.
Quality
The image quality is as clear and colourful as the language, though thankfully less racist.
Extras
Given the volume of archive material sparingly used in the film, it seems ridiculous that the full programmes arent included on this desk. What you do get is a forerunner to The Arbor in the form of Barnards short Road Race, the story of gypsies racing horses illegally on the M2. Worth a look if only to get a sense of the filmmakers embryonic technique. The Arbor is out
on Blu-ray now.