Artemis '81 [DVD]

I was 14 years old when I saw this film, and in true teenage style I was blown away by its surreal imagery, arcane symbolism and existentialist angst. I subsequently spent years trying to find a copy to watch it again, and was delighted when it was recently re-released on DVD.

We've all come a long way since then. Perhaps some things don't age too well (myself included!), or maybe nostalgia just ain't what it used to be....

26 years later, it was like watching a pretentious over-long and badly acted episode of Tom Baker-era Dr Who. However, unlike Dr Who, there was no dialogue between the characters, so much as a series of intense monologues consisting of irritating psycho-babble, cod-philosophy and rhetorical questions delivered in a po-faced telegramatic style that made it sound as though English was not the actors' first language. The basic plot was sound, but soon became predictable and painfully slow. The role of the sequences in the lost eastern European city and the underground military bunker which evoked familiar cliches of urban dystopia and cold-war paranoia were not apparent in the film or commentary, and they seemed to be more a diversion than part of the plot.

It was an ambitious project, but whilst the references to Bergman, Hitchcock, Ridley Scott, film noir and Hammer horror were immediately apparent, at times these seemed to take the film closer to self-parody rather than emulation of the greats. I guess the special effects were state of the art for the era and budget, but they have not aged well either...

The 14 year old me would have given it a 5 star rating, no question. Now I would give it a 2 star rating, upgraded to 3 after watching the film again with the commentary, which was more interesting than the original footage. I may watch it again some time, but for now I'll file it away along with other relics from my teen years (including Fritz Lang's "Metropolis", the entire collection of Peter Greenaway films and "The Bridge" by Iain Banks) and try to remember Artemis '81 fondly as seen through the wide eyes of a teenager instead of a cynical adult.

By the way, in case you were wondering, the runic inscription on the cabinet in the Esbjerg museum (0:02:48) is not a hidden message - its just the Danish runic futhark, or alphabet!

In 1981 I sat through this without a break, fascinated. So did most people I knew.
So, why has the BBC never repeated it?
A: Because there has been so much first-rate material on their channels for the last 25 years that there was just no room for it in the schedules.
B: Because they wanted to charge us £15.99 for something we've already paid for rather than give it to us for free.
C: For some other really good reason that I haven't figured out yet.

Superficially this is a Doctor-Whoish plot about some ancient entity wanting to destroy the Earth for no particularly good reason. That would be good enough for me, but its appeal is greater than that: just as it all seems to be making sense the film enters a long, surreal section, beginning with Sting as an angel/helicopter-rescue man saving the hero from a cliff-face. It is this sequence, involving mysterious worlds and strange places that gives it the extra depth and makes it intriguing.

It's not without its rough edges, but definitely watching again.

If there is only one thing that Artemis 81 will do, is it will make you think.

God knows what the post Xmas viewers made of it on the Beeb in 1981!

What you have is a strange bewitching, beguiling but ultimately downright frustrating 3 hrs of TV drama!

The basic premise, as far as can be gleaned, is that a pagan artefact is stolen from Denmark and broken up on the ferry back to the UK. For the passangers involved, this is bad news, as one by one they inexplicably commit suicide.

Paranormal author Gideon Harlax, superbly played with characteristic detachment by the great (and starting to get chubby here) Hywel Bennett, begins to climb down from his ivory tower of uninvolvement to dedicate his time to finding out just why. As he does so he becames involved in the battle between age old good and evil, light and shade, as represented by a very wooden Sting and a very flamboyant Rolad Curram (later of failed BBC soap Eldorado no less)

The author of the piece, David Rudkin, throws everything but the kitchen sink into the three hours; great all encomposing themes and stylings and homages, so that what the viewer gets is ( and brace yourself here ) Hitchcock meets Bergman meets paganism meets sci-fi meets chillers meets horror meets Tales Of The Unexpected meets Bram Stoker meets 1984 meets philosphy meets, in all eventuality, a bloomin' headache for most!

What Rudkin comes into a lot of flak for is his stylised way of writing. A lot of dialogue is spoken very much in the Olde English, mock Shakespearian style; especially between Bennett's cold and fragile love interest Gwen and the mysterious composer, a sub Hammer Horror enigma named Von Drachenfels (German for 'dragon's rock') but latterly by our hero Bennett himself in the film's final half. It's all very bizarre and sadly, rather pretentious.

Ultimately, you are advised by many to watch this weighty film in two halfs. I broke off around the 90 minute mark which, for me at least, was perhaps where the film became most satisfactory, and tantalisingly close to a real thriller with a steady easily followed build up. Sadly this pace only kicks in around 40 minutes and lasts up until the 90th (the first half being a very slow and confusing start, in keeping with the slower gentler bewitching pace television had back in this period) and what you have here in this pacier segment is a very involving Hitchcokian (especially Vertigo) puzzle of a mystery.

After the 90th minute, the film descends back into pretensions and abstract surrealism once more that no doubt leaves many tearing their hair out.

What we have in this last part is an intriguing evocation of an almost Orwellian landscape; a strange austere Eastern European depiction of a wasted landscape (in actual fact the location was a striking blend of Liverpool and Birmingham where many scenes where filmed, and indeed if you are familiar with these cities it is a joy to see them in the early 80s and try to see where each one starts and stops) From there, Bennett arrives in a laboratory set up straight from Doctor Who or a Bond film, complete with a light show that is more familiar to late 70s concerts performed by The Who or Pink Floyd, as he rescues Gwen from within and they murder their way out to escape to the final showdown; a live recorded recital by Von Drachenfels in which good triumphs over evil by way of Hitch's Vertigo.

So what was it about? Answers on a postcard please. Essentially I believe it was about a man who could not see and feel who becomes involved in something that changes that and him forever. To that extent the symbolism is pleasing enough and there for all to pick up on.

But what was the ultimate reason? Where was the mysterious apocolyptic wasteland meant to be? What was really going on in that lab? Why were the passengers killing themselves?

Yes, it certainly makes you think.