Duffer (1971)

Dirs. Joseph Despins and William Demaresq

United Kingdom

[Note - As far as I know, this film is only available in the United Kingdom in a dual format set, with another film by the directors, on both DVD and Blu-Ray. If any of the readers are outside the UK and are interested in buying this film after reading the review, I recommend finding it as the best price you can, especially since releases from the British Film Institute tend to be more expensive in their own country.]

When the British Film Institute – which already has its own vast DVD label alongside its involvement in British cinema and film archival work, an institute in London with cinema screens etc., an academic film magazine called Sight & Sound and a history of funding films for directors like Peter Greenaway and Derek Jarman – started a sub DVD label called Flipside a few years back, they may have contributed one of the best events within DVD’s history. I have only started watching more of the label’s releases this year, and not every film is going to be great, but it feels like more of an important contribution to the technology than DTS surround sound and Blu-Ray. (I will admit I watched the film I am reviewing here on Blu-Ray, but I would gladly watch a normal DVD version any day). It means something more as a film fan to me because the BFI have purposely, probably helped by their reputation and importance in the United Kingdom, created a DVD label with releases that are obscure and potentially unknown treasures; with a few expectations, most of their releases are obscure, films so unknown that it reminds yourself of choosing random films in a DVD rental stores and going into them with no perceived notions of what they will be like. Imagine that idea expect on a bigger scale, with the BFI having access to an entire archive of British cinema, from the Peter Watkins’ film Privilege (1967) to British ‘mondo’ films and small budget dramas around sixty to seventy minutes long. There is a danger with this logic that, unless you are interested in this area or have read something like Sight & Sound which offer reviews of these films, only the most niche of audiences will buy the releases, but on the other hand the label’s concentration on (as of yet) British cinema between the late 1960s and 1970s may have a wide audience, especially those who are curious about their country’s celluloid heritage. The period, especially the seventies, has only just been explored in greater detail outside of certain canonical works and genre cinema (although this label has no issues with dipping its fingers into British exploitation work such as the ‘mondo’ films), with the potential of rising up forgotten gems. I will openly admit that I have very little knowledge of this area, but I also know that the 1970s, after the end of American-British co-productions in the 60s or so, is one that has been dismissed as a low point for my country’s cinema, something which this current re-evaluation of this period may change. This sub-label of the BFI’s will help with this for younger viewers like me greatly, especially if it brings to us more one-offs like Duffer (1971) through their catalogue.

Filmed in stark black and white, Duffer is a very unconventional drama about a young man nicknamed ‘Duffer’ (Kit Gleave) stuck between his older, violent make lover Louis-Jack (co-director William Demaresq as James Roberts) and an older female prostitute called ‘Your Gracie’ (Erna May). Almost all of the film is from the main character’s perspective. This film is abstractly placed together; aside from occasional sounds within the scenes (digetic sound), the rest of the ‘dialogue’, sound and music is placed over the images in postproduction.  Abstract electronic sounds and Duffer’s internal thoughts make of up most of the soundtrack, portraying a version of London which is unreal and dreamlike in mood to a point, while other characters’ voices are represented in stylised ways – ‘Your Gracie’s’ voice is overly feminine, even at times like a mother’s in tone, while the only other male characters who ‘speak’ are abrasive and given violent tones to their voices, from harsh growling of their dialogue to a cruel nasal voice the character Louis-Jack has in one scene later on. The film has no connections in its style to any other British films I have seen so far as a viewer; attempting to label its mood is difficult, as adjectives like ‘nightmarish’ feel out of place - the film is at times ‘unreal’ and ‘dreamlike’, as I have said, but the visuals and images still have the realism of the urban areas of London the film was filmed in as well, creating an potent mix of the two sides – and its style is far more of its own creation than to call it something like ‘Lynchian’ or the many other terms these types of films are described with. It is a rare film, created and directed by two Canadians, which has no connections to previous films I have seen yet and no legacy of influences to later cinema, placing it by its own.

There is a major moral issue with the film though that it can be interpreted as being very homophobic. It is important to state that just because a character is a negative one does not mean they necessarily portray an entire group of people, either by their ethnicity or sexuality, but this film will raise issues depending on how you interpret it. The depiction of the male lover Louis-Jack is completely negative, regardless of the fact that Duffer talks about his kind natured side and desires not to hurt him at times throughout. (How Duffer talks about him can almost sound like a battered lover who continues to go back to their abuser). In the first half of this film, the issue would not exist were it not for the fact that ‘Your Gracie’ is portrayed as a comforting, protective force to the main character through a stereotypical femininity – food, soft quilts and clothing, a white cat in one shot, and even Duffer going as far as comparing her to his mother. Were it not for this, and her portrayal can still be interpreted as being more complex than I have stated,  the actions of Louis-Jack are not necessarily defined by his masculinity. He is just borderline insane or psychologically unstable; it is fitting that he is the one to mention insanity of the mind, which could also be used to describe the whole film both literally and in the fact that Duffer’s view of the world may not as cohesive as we see. Even when he starts drooling worms onto Duffer’s prone body to film it, it does not have to be interpreted as homosexual love as a sordid act – it feels more like a general depiction of a rotten and ill sexual relationship between two people regardless of their genders. It is from the forced sodomy scene onwards however where the viewer will be forced to ask themselves whether the film is homophobic or if what it shown on screen is much more complicated than what you see. The plot from here goes into Louis-Jack becoming obsessed with having a child, leading to a (male) pregnancy. The film is still admirable, but if you watch it, you will have to ponder what the filmmakers’ intentions were with it as you will have to provide your own answers to what the film’s portrayals signify.

To defend the film further though, its sexuality is clearly more complex before you were to interpret it. There is an ambiguity to the relationships, and the male pregnancy that takes places completely subverts gender; even if Louis-Jack has a complete hatred for women, his obsession with the creation of children, even to the point of using pregnancy tests on Duffer from old wives’ tales, means that he is obsessed with them at the same time. What could be a very homophobic depiction could be a very complex interpretation of masculinity and femininity, particularly with the issues of only one gender being able to conceive children within them. There is also the possibility that events within the film are not truly real. The plot itself undermines the reality Duffer portrays to us, but also the technical and artistic decisions of the film enforce it too. The postproduction synching of the sound adds to the ambiguity, as the dialogue of the characters is not only exaggerated in tone but also to what is shown on screen in terms of the emotions being registered by the actors. At times what is heard is far more heightened and/or violent sounding than what the interactions between the actors on screen show. The whole film may be inside Duffer’s head. There is also a possibility that Louis-Jack and ‘Your Gracie’ are not people but creations of Duffer’s mind; I was reminded of the terms ‘anima’ and ‘animus’, which suggest that an individual has both a feminine and masculine side to their subconscious, when the film gets to its ending. This could be the case for the main character, but with both sides actively against each other in terms of his sexuality, thus complicating the ideas and issues of the film.

Duffer is a fascinating discovery in terms of British cinema, an entity onto itself dug out by the BFI. It is not perfect; not only is there the contention of its depiction of sexuality, but for a film that is only seventy or so minutes long its final quarter is flabby compared to the rest of it. Nonetheless, this is a film worth seeing, and the BFI deserves praise for releasing it through their Flipside label. This is what the DVD format was designed for, to be able to blindly delve into films like this and find curiosities and gems, and Duffer was a great example of this for me.

Link to the BFI Store page for this film - Duffer (1971)