There is a small but dedicated faction of the film community that genuinely believes Terence Davies to be one of the greatest directors of his generation. While his work is often very small and intimate, it’s difficult to watch any of his films and not feel like there is a lot of truth to this sentiment. Few directors have been as consistent in carving out a space for themselves in the culture as he has, with his output over the past three decades signalling someone who is fully at ease with his unique artistic style and precise method of storytelling. He often draws from his own experiences or curiosities when crafting a film (all of which are delicate and complex character studies that carry an abundance of unique ideas), and despite a relatively lengthy career, he has only made a small handful of films, meaning that each one is a bespoke work of art all on its own. The Long Day Closes is one of his most celebrated films for a number of reasons – whether we look at its autobiographical elements, its artistic approach or the overarching social and cultural details from which the film was constructed, we find something extraordinarily valuable and intriguing embedded deep within the fabric of the story. A delightfully endearing and deeply thought-provoking film that finds itself at the perfect intersection between social realism and pure artistic enchantment, The Long Day Closes is the kind of film that takes its time to develop on many of its themes, but which offers the viewer an invaluable experience, one that is formed from the perspective of someone whose artistic output eclipses that of his more prolific contemporaries, and whose vision has stood the test of time to the point where a film made thirty years ago feel as invigorating and captivating today as it did when it was released.

The Long Day Closes takes place in the 1950s, the story being situated in the working-class neighbourhoods of Liverpool (namely Kensington, where the director himself was born and raised for most of his childhood) and focuses on both the place and the people who inhabit it. It’s not a revolutionary concept, since there are far too many films that decide to look at a particular setting at a specific moment in time – but as is often the case with Davies’ work, we have to pay attention to how he uses the setting to understand the full scope of the story. The Long Day Closes focuses on a character based on the director himself, looking at a few months in his life and the people who surround him – his loving mother and the gaggle of siblings that defined his working-class Catholic family, as well as various other members of the community, all of whom are viewed with nothing but the most sincere compassion by a director whose forthright commitment to telling stories often meant that he spent a lot of time expanding on as many characters as he could in order to offer us a clear and concise depiction of his chosen setting. As a result, this film is one where Liverpool itself becomes a character, a vibrant entity filled with unique charm and an endless amount of complexity, which is only possible when made by someone who holds a genuine fondness for the place responsible for his upbringing. The Long Day Closes is primarily a document of a specific place and time, as filtered through the perspective of the director, who may be complicit in looking at this era through rose-tinted glasses (since it is a very upbeat and positive depiction of the era, which we know was not true, especially when it comes to the theme of identity), but who uses every minute of this film to expand on some bold ideas, creating a vivid historical text that may be small and intimate in form, but has a very profound set of details that make it truly exquisite.

However, there is something much deeper to The Long Day Closes than initially meets the eye – and arguably one needs to have a vague knowledge of the director and his life to understand that this is as much an ethnographic depiction of his hometown and its people as it is an outright autobiographical text. This is his second film, and arguably his most personal (which is quite an achievement in a career that has often plucked many themes from his own life in the development of his unique stories), and focuses on a character who bears remarkable similarity in terms of age and interest to a young Davies, who was also a young man growing up in working-class England, and who rejected the idea of entering into the menial workforce, instead being more enthralled by the world of cinema. Throughout this film, it feels like we are getting the most profound insights into the childhood of the director, who delivers a lot of these complex ideas with wit and candour, the kind we rarely see in more self-serious visual memoirs. Despite being quite dramatic, there’s a playfulness that exudes throughout The Long Day Closes that hints at Davies’ ability to carefully curate his memories to emphasize both the joy and sadness he felt growing up in a time where his identity (as a young boy struggling to come to terms with his sexuality) was seen as invalid – and while this is not a film that makes any bold statements regarding the socio-cultural issues that reside at the core of the story, it does spend a decent amount of time exploring his perspective, becoming one of the more riveting and heartbreakingly beautiful coming-of-age stories ever committed to film, which is quite an achievement considering how this is a sub-genre that has never been seen as deficient when it comes to filmmakers telling stories of childhood and the perils that come with navigating the ambigious space between adolescence and adulthood, the formative years being depicted throughout this film.

In terms of both form and content, The Long Day Closes is an absolute triumph. Davies is the rare kind of filmmaker that is equally as strong in terms of being a visual stylist and narrative storyteller. Every moment of this film is filled to the brim with compassion and nuance in terms of the story, and a very distinct style that ties it all together, proving to not only be a very meaningful film, but one that is defined by its artistic integrity at the same time. His approach to directing is essentially a deft balancing act in which he is developing a strong story in conjunction with a very unique tone (often taking elements from the school of magical realism), stunning visual compositions and memorable performances, all of which are integral to the overall production, and where even the slightest shortcoming in any of them would cause the entire film to dismantle. Mercifully, Davies is as talented as he is passionate about his work, and The Long Day Closes follows the same pattern in terms of being a film handcrafted by a director who is not afraid to take the required time to develop ideas in a way that is organic and heartfelt, rather than pursuing projects at a rapid pace to satiate any kind of vanity one feels when in such a position. There’s a unique quality to this film that can only be derived from the most steadfast investment to developing his ideas and seeing them to fruition, which takes time and effort – and yet Davies makes it look exceptionally easy, his directing being both effervescent and profound, philosophical and ethereal all at the same time. The blend of humour and pathos also contributes to the heartfelt and realistic nature of the story, which is vital to the audience’s growing relationship with this story and the characters that populate the version of the world the director is dedicated to constructing.

The Long Day Closes is a work that feels compelling and well-defined, especially in how it gradually develops on some complex ideas, never spending too much time on providing reasoning for certain moments, but instead weaving them together to form this beautiful and complex tapestry of childhood, as seen through the eyes of someone who carries a profound level of compassion, both for his past (which was decisively not free of challenges) and his entire approach to the creation of art, which is rendered as the most profound and beautiful artistry imaginable. There aren’t many filmmakers like Davies left – he represents a bridge between the old masters of post-war melodrama, who focused on romanticizing and celebrating the inherent beauty of society, and the proponents of kitchen-sink realism, who took a more cynical approach to representing Britain throughout the 20th century, emphasizing the many complexities that define the era. Davies is someone whose inspirations are clear, but ultimately prove to be peripheral, since his vision is unique and compelling all on its own, and The Long Day Closes represents some of his finest work. The story combines different ideas, such as highlighting the joyful folly of childhood and exploring the experiences of the working class in the decade after the end of the Second World War, being both a sobering elegy to the past and a poignant celebration of its unconventional beauty – few artists can create something so simple yet captivating, but Davies manages to do it with prowess and dedication. There’s very little reason to emphasize his merits as a filmmaker – both his reputation and quality of work points to his impeccable status as one of our greatest living artists, and the vivacity and brilliance of this film, amongst others, is more than enough to warrant his place in the history of a medium he helped define in a small but significant way, which is a vast understatement when it comes to looking at his importance in terms of both working-class stories, as well as queer cinema, both of which have been considerably developed under his careful guidance and immense talents.