Remembering WW1
Yesterday I was privileged to be invited to an august institution for special screening of a new documentary film commemorating the connection between a particular sport and its contribution to the First World War. Its intentions were noble – to commemorate those players who had died or been wounded, draw a comparison between the comradeship it engenders and that developed amongst soldiers in the trenches, and reflect upon the scale of casualties and the motivations that moved millions of men to sign up and to ‘do their bit’, even at the risk of losing their lives. Plenty of care, time, effort and money had clearly been invested in its production.
In the end, however, for me it scored no more than about six and a half out of ten.
Though I had made a deliberate effort to come to it as if my mind was a blank sheet of paper and/or I was the man on the proverbial Clapham omnibus, my overall conclusion was that it was a bit like the curate’s egg (i.e. good in parts).
Some scenes were moving and some of the interviews and images novel, thought-provoking and impressive. But other aspects were simplistic or unremarkable and therefore unsatisfying. They might have been described by an unkind critic as opportunities missed. One of the truths of such things is that, as the saying goes, you cannot win ‘em all. I don’t necessarily blame the producers or indeed contributors for this. For all the obvious reasons, anyone who produces a documentary or book designed for public consumption, especially one that addresses a large and complicated subject, is going to be doing their very best.
As I know from personal experience, the First World War resonates with 21st Century Britons more powerfully than any national conflict before or since.
Many of those who have made obsessive hobbies, or even careers, out of researching WW1 are wonderfully knowledgeable and yet some of them are also over-protective about it (and indeed their areas of special interest) to the point of near-absurdity. Those who choose to contribute articles or comments to publications and websites on the subject must be prepared to be corrected upon minor points of detail at every turn and also receive the occasional blunt and dismissive review of any research or opinion that they commit to record. The sport of one-upmanship is alive and well when it comes to considering 1914-1918 military matters.
As someone who possesses a degree of understanding upon the conflict that I am happy to accept lies several degrees below any which might qualify me for the description ‘expert’, I deliberately approach all books, articles, television programmes and movies (documentary or otherwise) on the subject from a more basic and human angle, i.e. my overall impression of its contents and, above all, whether or not I enjoyed it.
For good or ill – and consciously or not – an element of my process in coming to a view as to the worth of any such project is whether or not I spot any glaring errors. This could occasionally be [despite my comments above] from an anorak-style researcher’s perspective when it comes to straightforward factual errors, but just as likely from my status as an average punter in the street.
Speaking of which, in yesterday’s documentary, at one point an image of photograph of a WW1 unit appeared on screen to which a caption ‘54th Squadron’ had been added by the film-makers.
I could not help but notice that the word ‘Squadron’ had been misspelt – in it the ‘a’ and the ‘u’ had been transposed.
Anyone who works in television or film and fails to notice such a basic error at the editing and/or any of the many ‘pre-launch viewings’ stages, ought to regard this as a cardinal sin.
Arguably, it is unforgivable. In the world of documentaries it is the equivalent of a leading football striker receiving a perfect pass in the 6-yard box with an open goal and then skewing his shot wide – i.e. quite likely, and some might argue justifiably, to provoke an indignant reaction from onlookers in the style of “But he’s supposed to be a professional, doing this for a living – what has he been up to all week? – he should be able to do this sort of thing in his sleep!“
In my time in television, of course, it would have resulted in the person responsible getting demoted if not sacked. However, it wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest if in the modern (any old how will do) media world it would provoke nothing more than a mild bollocking and a teasing “You owe us a drink, mate!” reaction within the production office.
