I am not in the habit of using individual films as an opportunity to lament the loss of a great artist – a work should be viewed on its terms and judged appropriately based on what we see on screen, rather than any outside influences since the passing of a cherished member of the film community can shade in our perception of a specific film in ways that are sometimes not entirely logical. However, it seems like a good opportunity to eulogize Terence Davies by looking at his films, since he was someone who prioritized his art to the degree that it became deeply woven into his existence, developed into a daring and meaningful series of images and narrative details that defined not only his artistic vision, but many filmmakers that took inspiration from his work. This past weekend, I joined the broader cinematic community in mourning the shocking and sudden loss of Davies, who was taken from us far too soon. In choosing the most appropriate film to celebrate his legacy, the decision was clear – as acclaimed as The House of Mirth or Benediction may have been, there was something about his earlier autobiographical works that struck such a chord, and outside of his trilogy of short films and The Long Day Closes, is most deeply personal work is Distant Voices, Still Lives, in which the director voyages to the middle of the previous century, exploring two timelines between the 1940s and 1960s, showing the staggering changes Great Britain experienced through telling the story of an ordinary working-class family as they navigate various challenges relating to their simple lives. Beautiful and poetic in the way only Davies’ films could potentially be, and driven by such incredible sincerity, there is very little doubt that he what achieves here is some of his finest work, and there is even an argument to be made that this is his personal best as a filmmaker, a film that is so deeply meaningful and profound from beginning to end, the simple act of watching it feels like we are being let into the deepest memories of the director as he explores the past.

Earlier in his career, Davies had a penchant for small-scale filmmaking – his earliest works were mostly shorts, and likely were victims of financial challenges, which necessitated releasing them individually and then hoping that audiences could piece them together, which was the case with not only Trilogy (consisting of “Children”, “Madonna and Child” and “Death and Transfiguration”) but also Distant Voices, Still Lives, in which he tells two stories – Distant Voices is about a family navigating the challenges that come as a result of their abusive patriarch, oscillating between showing his reign of terror as well as his battle with the mysterious illness that eventually takes his life, while Still Voices leaps forward a few years to show the experiences of a group of young people voyaging through their daily lives as they navigate the space between their formative years and adulthood, a daunting and sometimes challenging process to which none of them is particularly equipped. Davies did not design nor execute this film to be directly autobiographical, but it is obvious that he is drawing on his childhood and adolescence, showing the journey of a character very similar to him as he works his way through his early years, facing a future that may be uncertain, but is undeniably bright, far more than his working-class life may have suggested. Dividing these ideas into two standalone stories (albeit keeping the same cast and crew entirely) allows Davies to make several bold declarations without having to worry about tying up the loose ends, which becomes quite a daunting process when trying to make sense of some of the more intricate details, which serve to be the foundation of many of the film’s most intriguing moments and unique elements that immediately separate it from similarly-themed stories.

Davies is not a director with an easily imitable style, yet we can instantly recognize his films based not only on how he positions the camera but also on the kinds of stories being told, as well as the tone used to explore several different themes, with the overlap between different ideas being the source of many of the film’s most profoundly moving moments. Despite its cultural and temporal specificity (since few filmmakers were able to capture the spirit of the past quite like Davies), his work does touch on universal themes and will resonate with all viewers, particularly those who see themselves in the main character, a young man trying to navigate a world he simply does not understand, but yet is intent on exploring, knowing that there is so much beauty beneath the suffering and despair that he and his family have to face. Among the idea that Davies infuses into this film are socio-economic issues, since the story focuses on a family that has enough to survive, but still exist on the margins, teetering dangerously close to losing everything, which becomes even more evident during the period of upheaval after the death of their patriarch, whose demise resulted in the family being liberated from his abuse, but also forced to fend for themselves in post-war Britain, not being able to defend on the consistency brought by his hard-working manner. However, the most intriguing aspects of Distant Voices, Still Lives come in the quieter themes – the broad revelations about identity (although there isn’t clear queer storytelling here, the film does have quite a bit of subtext that shows how Davies was always interested in exploring identity as a narrative tool), and we soon come to discover how this film balances many of its more abstract ideas, which are developed with incredible complexity and a sincere sense of honesty that is thoroughly indicative of Davies’ style as a director, which was always about finding the beauty in some of the bleakest and most harrowing aspects of everyday life.

While he did flirt with intense character studies throughout his career, particularly later on, Davies was not always known for being focused on extracting the most bombastic performances from his actors, rarely asking too much of them in terms of delivering the most detailed performances. Perhaps the most appropriate description of his relationship with his actors is that he treats them like models with whom he paints the unforgettable images of his films – and this isn’t to deride Davies’ skills as a director nor the talents of his actors, but rather to acknowledge his approach to characterization, while still very strong, was quite different in several ways. However, even when we keep this in mind, it’s difficult to resist the incredible work being done by this cast – they may not be delivering particularly extravagant performances, but there is a sense of authenticity to what they are doing that is truly remarkable, and shows the incredible skillfulness with which the director approached his characters. The standout of the film is perhaps Freda Dowie, a veteran actor who is not well-known amongst many contemporary viewers, despite her longevity and the fact that her career has seen her perform across every conceivable medium. Playing the matriarch of this family, she is the person who ties the entire film together, the one constant to which we always return. Distant Voices, Still Lives is a film about the fact that even when we drift apart – whether emotionally or physically – we ultimately always find our way home, whether to a literal place or to the people who provide us with that sense of comfort, and Dowie delivers a performance that reminds us of this incredible principle in vibrant and meaningful detail.

There have been many terms used to describe Davies and his work, and one of the most appropriate expressions comes on the subject of this film in particular, which was famously cited as a “forgotten masterpiece”, and it seems like there are few better ways to encapsulate this incredible work of art. A description that has frequently been used to describe Davies, both during his lifetime and now after his passing, is that he was not merely a film director, but a cinematic poet, not necessarily in the sense that his work was overly lyrical, but rather that he perceived the world in a way that was starkly different to every one of his contemporaries, particularly in how he constructed stories through focusing on the small details. He doesn’t put too much concern into naming his characters or adding too much background context, nor is he particularly interested in a coherent structure, instead choosing to cobble together stories through a series of free-form ideas that flow through his films with vigour and poignancy, becoming as much as the atmosphere as it is the story, which sometimes even fades as we find ourselves being more invested in these moments of pure humanity. Davies was an incredible artist, and someone who didn’t receive anything close to his due during his lifetime – and while it may not be his most well-remembered work in comparison to some of his more popular projects, Distant Voices, Still Lives remains an incredible achievement, a poetic ode to a generation that existed during a tumultuous time in global history, and whose stories Davies has always been compelled to share, using his profound gifts to explores their lives with complexity and compassion, the two qualities working in tandem in the creation of this wonderful and deeply moving glimpse into the past.