Research - Cinematic New Wave

My research on the British Cinematic New Wave

New Wave

-The term 'New Wave' exists across a different range of forms. There are new waves in painting, fashion, music, literature and theatre as well as film.

-New waves are cyclical; often becoming conventional, so eventually in turn challenged by a new style.

-New waves, which appear at different times and places and in different artistic contexts, are always about criticising what has gone before and trying to create a new form to replace it.

-Therefore these movements tend to be associated with youth, experimentation and the rejection of the values of a previous era which is often perceived as boring and conventional.

-It is for this reason that the new waves are often controversial as they are(or are perceived to be) an attack on traditional forms and values.

The French New Wave

-The filmmakers of the French New Wave have influenced cinema in two ways:

-As critics of the film journal Cahiers du Cinema they developed the auteur theory

-as film directors they challenged the established conventions of filmmaking in form, content and institutional practice.

Authorship Theory

-The key directors of the French New Wave - Jean-Luc Godard, Francois Truffaut, Claude Chabrol, Eric Rohmer - had been film critics for the French cinema magazine Cahiers du Cinema

-This was the first film journal to treat cinema as an art form and to discuss it in an academic way.

-In the early 1950s, this group of critics developed an argument through a long series of articles which became known as 'la politque des auteurs' (auteur policy)

-Taken up by American critics in the 1960s these ideas became known as the auteur theory or authorship theory.

- This is problematic, as it suggests that the Cahiers critics were putting forward a theory which would explain the way existing cinema should be interpreted and this is often how it is used now

-Auteur theory was originally developed as a policy - a statement of intent - in this attack on the French cinema of the time but more importantly a statement of intent about what film should be like.

POLEMIC:

-A Polemic is a subjective, a passionate strongly worded argument usually against an individual, a group or an idea.

-It is very controversial and political, challenging established conventions.

-It is useful to think of 'la politque des auteurs' as a polemical argument specifically about the present and future of French cinema which was translated into a theory about cinema in general.

-In their writings the critics argued that film was primarily a visual medium rather than a literary one and that the director was the author of a film in the same was as a writer is the author of a novel.

-In one influential essay 'Le Camera Stylo' ('The Camera Writers') (1945), Alexander Astruc argued that the film director 'writes' a film with the camera as if he was an artist with a paintbrush.

-Rather than film language being used for the adaptation of a script, it should be the visual language which is most important.

-Therefore, the director is the true auteur of a film because the visual language is the language of the cinema; the script is the literary, a different language entirely.

Cinematic New Waves provide an excellent subject for understanding the way that creative
media productions are influenced by social and institutional factors. They highlight how
filmmakers must work within the constraints of national cinematic institutions and contain
distinctive styles/elements that have led to changes in production values as a result of the impact of their reception.


Kitchen sink realism (or kitchen sink drama) is a British cultural movement that developed in the late 1950s and early 1960s in theatre, art, novels, film, and television plays, whose protagonists usually could be described as "angry young men" who were disillusioned with modern society.

A Taste of Honey

A Taste of Honey is the first play by the British dramatist Shelagh Delaney, written when she was 19. It was initially intended as a novel, but she turned it into a play because she hoped to revitalise British theatre and to address social issues that she felt were not being presented. The play was first produced by Joan Littlewood's Theatre Workshop and was premiered at the Theatre Royal Stratford East, a small fringe theatre in London, on 27 May 1958. The production then transferred to the larger Wyndham's Theatre in the West End on 10 February 1959. The play was adapted into a film of the same title in 1961.

A Taste of Honey is set in Salford in North West England in the 1950s. It tells the story of Jo, a seventeen-year-old working class girl, and her mother, Helen, who is presented as crude and sexually indiscriminate. Helen leaves Jo alone in their new flat after she begins a relationship with Peter, a rich lover who is younger than she. At the same time Jo begins a romantic relationship with Jimmy, a black sailor. He proposes marriage but then goes to sea, leaving Jo pregnant and alone. She finds lodgings with a homosexual acquaintance, Geoffrey, who assumes the role of surrogate father. Helen returns after leaving her lover and the future of Jo's new home is put into question.

Film reviews

When the blowsy Helen (Dora Bryan) says she never knew that her misfit daughter, Jo (Rita Tushingham), was talented, Jo retorts, “I’m not just talented, I’m geniused.” There is a touch of genius to Shelagh Delaney’s 1958 Manchester-set play about Jo’s inchoate yearnings, her brief interracial romance, and the safe zone she creates with her only friend, a tender gay man (Murray Melvin). Jo is a flighty character with a bitter earthy streak, and her conflicting energies—expressed in sometimes edgy, sometimes fanciful dialogue—make this a near-classic of postadolescent confusion and longing. The director, Tony Richardson (who co-wrote the screenplay with Delaney), didn’t find a visual style to match the verve of Delaney’s language, but he cast the film superbly, and in the best scenes Walter Lassally’s photography and John Addison’s score help him achieve the perfect blend of poignancy and insouciance.
- Michael Sragow

SHELAGH DELANEY'S "A Taste of Honey," which justifiably drew theatregoers like flies, to London and Broadway, is more memorable on film. The British-made drama, which was unveiled at the 'Paris Theatre yesterday, has been given specifically effective scope in the movie medium. Freed from the constricting confines of the stage, the shining honesty, the trials, the disenchantment of the drama's low-born Lancashire principals have become all the more striking and true. The dedicated producers have concocted a bitter "Honey" that is rare and travels well."A Taste of Honey" obviously is a labor of love. Tony Richardson, its producer-director, and Miss Delaney have been a team ever since it was staged here. Miss Delaney, it will be recalled, wrote the play when she was an astounding 19 years old, out of conviction and the perceptions of an artist. Mr. Richardson, no less an artist, treated the work with appreciation of a shining and unusual talent. The result is a fittingly unadorned, sometimes drab, vehicle freighted with meaning and compassion that is universal despite its seemingly restrictive locale.They and their sensitive cast have cleaved to the original story and to Miss Delaney's wry style. "A Taste of Honey" was and is less of a formalized narrative than it is a restrained, circuitous manner of presenting moods and moments of living. As such, Miss Delaney's slice of life evolves whole and with impact. It bursts with vitality against the sleazy environs of a North, Country city slum, its dirty flats, dank docksides and the kaleidoscopic sights and the raucous, tinny sounds of Blackpool's fun fairs.Having evoked complementary drama from a variety of sites, Mr. Richardson collaborated with Miss Delaney to keep her original lines intact Her wide-eyed but worldly wise teen-ager, who is constantly fighting loneliness and seeking affection she never gets from her manchasing mother, meets an equally lonely Negro sailor and, after an idyllic interval, finds she is with child. After his tender departure for other ports, our heroine is a the more confused, frightened and unloved, especially when her brassy, roving mother marries a loud, free-spending type who plainly abhors the sight of the girl.Since she is a resilent sort, she gives understanding and sanctuary to an effeminate youth from whom, for the first time, she receives tender care and tacit affection. But, as a realist, Miss Delaney finds life not only real and earnest but also hard. And, when childbirth is imminent, her mother, who has come to a parting of the ways with her spouse, returns to drive her delicate companion away. While she nominally takes up her maternal duties, a viewer is left with the idea that the daughter may yet be lonely and lovelorn.As in the play, Miss Delaney is not compromising. One has the feeling that she chose abnormal characters to accent more forcefully society's indifference to its disenfranchised. They are neither angry nor lachrymose and they are, on occasion, a happy lot ready to laugh at themselves. Though they are involved in sordid circumstances, they manage to tug at the heart without breaking it.Call it fateful or a matter of professionalism, but Mr. Richardson has been fortunate in finding Rita Tushingham, a 19-year-old newcomer to films, to portray Jo, the daughter. A plain Jane, she uses her saucer-eyed visage subtly to convey the pains and joys of her predicament, and her North Country accents, which may confuse some, beautifully transmit her humor and her self-protective cynicism. Mr. Richardson had a hand in shaping her performance but she is, nevertheless, a wondrous discovery.Murray Melvin, who is repeating the role of the homosexual he created in the British play, handles this difficult assignment in muted but effective fashion. Like Miss Tushingham he is flesh and blood and not a caricature. Dora Bryan, a veteran of stage and screen comedy, is equally real as the hard and footlose mother. Paul Danquah in his movie debut as the Negro sailor, is gentle and subtle in a small but demanding role and Robert Stephens is properly brash, vulgar and oafish as Miss Bryan's husband.With the aid of Walter Lassally's expert camera work, which caught sooty, canal-lined Manchester exteriors, as well as grubby streets and happy, grubby, singing kids, Mr. Richardson and the company, who acted as though they lived there, have given a new dimension to an already sobering view of life among the lowly. In being transported out of the theatre, this "Honey" has been enriched.

 

Saturday Night Sunday Morning

Saturday Night and Sunday Morning is a 1961 British drama film directed by Karel Reisz and produced by Tony Richardson. It is an adaptation of the 1958 novel of the same name by Alan Sillitoe, who also wrote the screenplay adaptation. The film is about a young machinist who spends his weekends drinking and partying, all the while having an affair with a married woman.

The film is one of a series of "kitchen sink drama" films made in the late 1950s and early 1960s, as part of the British New Wave of filmmaking, from directors such as Reisz, Jack Clayton, Lindsay Anderson, John Schlesinger and Tony Richardson and adapted from the works of writers such as Sillitoe, John Braine and John Osborne. A common trope in these films was the working-class "angry young man" character (in this case, the character of Arthur), who rebels against the oppressive system of his elders.

In 1999, the British Film Institute named Saturday Night and Sunday Morning the 14th greatest British film of all time on their Top 100 British films list.

Arthur Seaton is a young machinist at the Raleigh bicycle factory in Nottingham. He is determined not to be tied down to living a life of domestic drudgery like the people around him, including his parents, whom he describes as "dead from the neck up". He spends his wages at weekends on drinking and having a good time.

Put working-class life on screen, bluntly and without condescension.”
Rob Mackie, The Guardian, 2009

“Don’t let the bastards grind you down. What I want is a good time. All the rest is propaganda.” When no-nonsense lathe operator Arthur Seaton (Albert Finney) voiced his world view, British cinema had never heard anything like it before. The pithy dialogue in Nottingham writer Alan Sillitoe’s adaptation of his own novel remains eminently quotable, but it’s the diligent and sympathetic direction by former documentary-maker Karel Reisz that creates an authentic atmosphere for the story of a would-be rebel forced to compromise.

Middle-class Czech émigré Reisz’s own background was worlds away, yet his first feature allows the material to speak for itself, while Finney’s performance electrified audiences and the film industry alike.

Four decades later, Nottingham provided the setting for the films of another chronicler of British working-class life, Shane Meadows, including TwentyFourSeven (1997) and This Is England (2006).

Reviews

The gritty cinematography and coarse characterizations of "Saturday Night and Sunday Morning" are an exciting jolt, but the film's central plot -- a hotheaded factory worker (Albert Finney, in a star-making role) impregnating married Brenda (Rachel Roberts) while also wooing the more glamorous Doreen (Shirley Anne Field) -- seemed a little thin and ordinary. Given the harsh setting, I expected more issues of money, employment and housing, and not a story based so squarely on mere dating conflicts. Finney blisters in what's inevitably labeled an "angry young man" part and signals an actor with a long career ahead. Field seems miscast, however, and is so elegantly beautiful that she belongs in a whole different film. At the very least, the stylist could have given her a more flawed hairdo.

In the immediate post-war period, British cinema lost a lot of the sparkle and sense of adventure which it had previously embodied. With Alfred Hitchcock now permanently based in America and Powell and Pressburger past their prime, cinema became increasingly populated by American melodramas, jingoistic war films and ropey comedies. It would take something truly momentous to shake cinema out of this stupor: that something was the British New Wave. Beginning with John Osborne's Look Back in Anger, the New Wave sought to reinvigorate film and theatre, tackling controversial subjects head on and presenting a view of the working classes which was the very opposite of patronising or parochial. In time the genre, with its left-wing undercurrents and subtle emphasis on counter-culture, would come to be epitomised by Lindsay Anderson, the director of If.... and This Sporting Life. But well before the latter entered production, Anderson's colleague Karel Reisz was blazing the cinematic trail with Saturday Night and Sunday Morning. Based upon the novel by Alan Sillitoe, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning is a rich and respectful work which depicts the life of the working man in Nottingham in a completely uncompromising way. Reisz' background in documentary filmmaking makes him a naturally understated director. His camera is always an observer, sitting passively in the corner; it never flinches or mitigates, and it makes no apologies for what occurs on screen. Not only does this approach make the action more realistic, but it helps to convey the message of the film. It allows the characters to speak for themselves, to create and form their own voices and identities, rather than having to conform either to the conventions of Hollywood or to social attitudes of what is considered 'proper'. The central line of the film comes towards the end from Albert Finney: "whatever people say I am, that's what I'm not", from which we get the title of The Arctic Monkeys' debut album. The visuals in Saturday Night reflect this desire for the characters rather than the director to do the talking. The film is shot by Freddie Francis, who also shot The Elephant Man and would work with Reisz again on The French Lieutenant's Woman. His choice of angles is simple but effective and he never attempts to play up the emotion of a scene by resorting to thriller tropes in the manner of Hitchcock or surreal, dreamlike shifts in the manner of Michael Powell. There are moments of visual exuberance - for instance, the blurring of the footage at the fairground to convey Arthur's disorientation - but these are only used as occasional devices. Shooting in black-and-white, whether for artistic or budgetary reasons, always seems to give a film a sense of gravitas and ruggedness, something which was comparatively lacking in Technicolor efforts from the same time. Francis' cinematography and Reisz' direction show up unashamedly all the rough edges of working life, from the thundering monotony of the factories to the grimy back streets and beer-drenched pubs. There is an underlying respect for what they document, but they do not glamorise working life to the point of parody, in the manner of Sergei Eisenstein. This might help to explain why the film was awarded an 'X' certificate when first released (it has since been downgraded to a PG). This ruggedness and gravitas is never more noticeable than in the performance of Albert Finney. In only his second film role, he inhabits Arthur Seaton, creating a complex and contradictory character that we spend the entire film trying to figure out. He is anti-heroic, and largely amoral save when it comes to his own skin. In certain scenes he is borderline sociopathic, like when he takes pot shots at a nosey neighbour with an air rifle. But he remains compelling in his capability to love, to think beyond what we expect of him, and - on occasion - to do the right thing. The most interesting moments of the film, which lift it out of the clichés of what would become kitchen-sink, see Arthur and his colleagues passing the time at weekends fishing or drinking, and discussing what the point of their lives might be. Arthur makes passing comments about a life beyond this, saying that he doesn't want to get married until he feels ready. His angry voiceovers about the factory and wayward relationships with women reflect a restless attitude towards the limits of the world put before him. He knows what he doesn't want, but can't quite communicate anything beyond that. This desire to communicate creates an emotional involvement with Arthur which makes the story gripping and engrossing. Like most kitchen-sink dramas the actual plot is quite slim, and has a number of similarities to A Place in the Sun - the central one being a male protagonist who is torn between two women, and who is threatened with ruin when one of them falls pregnant. But Saturday Night rejects the melodramatic tone of that film, just as Arthur remarks upon living the cinema that he always knew where the film was going. In A Place in the Sun, like so many melodramas, the characters are so clearly drawn that you knew where things were going after about fifteen minutes: Montgomery Clift is bound to fail and make the wrong choices, because that is the archetype into which he fits. In Saturday Night, there are no such guarantees and no stock ending to dampen the mood. Not only do the twists and turns feel more realistic, they carry a greater weight because the various parties do not have to respond in a manner predetermined by genre. Because Arthur is so conflicted, we don't know what choice he will make and therefore there is no assurance that he will emerge intact. The film deserves further plaudits for sticking to its guns in depicting the darker elements of urban life. It's one thing to go for realism when things are rosy for the protagonists; it's quite another to follow through with this and risk the censors' wrath in the process. The film is quite happy to linger on the scenes between Arthur and Doreen, but it is equally candid in the fight between Arthur and the squaddies which leaves the former near-dead. The ending itself is quite ambiguous, as Arthur surveys the housing developments and wonders whether he can change even as the landscape changes around him. If there is a flaw with Saturday Night, it is purely a question of scope. Apart from little details that have dated and any resounding prejudiced surrounding the now-ripe genre of kitchen-sink, the big problem with the film is that it is a little too self-contained. While it captures this particular part of Nottingham exceedingly well, it doesn't have quite the same general reach as Anderson's work - it doesn't reach out beyond its tight-knit community in the manner of This Sporting Life. In spite of this problem, which has prevented it from ageing quite so well, Saturday Night and Sunday Morning remains an important work in British cinema. In the long-term its realistic treatment of ordinary life and uncompromising storylines can be seen in everything from Ken Loach and Mike Leigh to the more recent work of Lynn Ramsey and Andrea Arnold. Reisz directs beautifully, bringing Sillitoe's novel and screenplay to life through a series of refreshing performances, resulting in a very fine piece of work.

Kes

Fifteen-year-old Billy Casper has little hope in life. He is picked on, both at home by his physically and verbally abusive older half-brother, Jud, and at school, by his schoolmates and by abusive teachers. Although he insists that his earlier petty criminal behaviour is behind him, he occasionally steals eggs and milk from milk floats. He has difficulty paying attention in school and is often provoked into tussles with classmates. Billy's father left the family some time ago, and his mother refers to him at one point, while somberly speaking to her friends about her children and their chances in life, as a "hopeless case."
Review of the film by someone

Towards the end of the Woodfall era a new figure, Ken Loach emerged on the scene with early works such as "Kes", that were to carry forward the spirit of the British New Wave from the late '60's to the present day, a body of work without parallel in its consistency in our native cinema. "Kes", the story of an unloved streetwise adolescent, Billy Casper, living in Barnsley breaks dramatically away from the cinematic tradition of cute kids in much the same way as Truffaut had done in "Les Quatre Cent Coups". Billy, grubby and not beyond the odd bout of petty pilfering, lives in a council estate with a single mum and a loutish elder brother. School is a drudge to somehow get through each day. It's a place peopled by largely unsympathetic teachers who keep the kids down by barrages of verbal abuse and the odd swish of the cane. Somehow Billy holds his own. In the meantime he finds his inner strength and salvation in training a kestrel from the wild. When in the closing scened he loses the bird through the uncaring machinations of his brother, the effect is nothing short of heart wrenching. I would not quite go along with those reviewers who consider this to be Loach's finest film. It is somehow too loosely focused and concentrates a little too much on peripheral social issues such as the parlous state of education in a Northern secondary school and unsympathetic career guidance. The football match in the middle, although gently funny, goes on for rather a long time, deflecting our interest away from Billy. Loach was later to develop his vision of the human condition more single-mindedly and to greater effect in works such as "The Gamekeeper", "Ladybird, Ladybird" and what I believe to be his greatest work, "My Name is Joe", which is not to diminish a film with many wonderful moments provided mainly by David Bradley in his unforgettable performance as Billy Casper.

Reviews

We didn't come from a very filmy family. I'd only seen two movies before Kes. One was The Poseidon Adventure – all I can remember is going in my pyjamas (I was ill) and being cold – and the other the film of Steptoe and Son. It was a friend's birthday, and I think (my memory might be playing a sick trick here) Albert Steptoe takes a bath in a tin tub and I found it weirdly thrilling.

Then came Kes. By now I was 12 years old, and at a special school, Crumpsall Open Air – or, as we pupils called it, Crumpsall Open Air for Mongs (no, I won't attempt to defend that). The pupils were an unlikely mix of juvenile delinquents, chronic asthmatics, kids with learning difficulties, cerebral palsy, Down's syndrome, and those who had rare diseases.

I was never sure why it was called an open-air school. But we certainly spent a lot of time in the open air – every afternoon playing football outside except for when the weather was too bad. One day it was pissing down, and we were forced inside. The teacher put on a film to keep us quiet. This was 1974, and the movie was already ancient (five years old); it had been made by a man who called himself Kenneth Loach. Didn't sound promising.

 Kes Photograph: Woodall Films/Sportsphoto Ltd/Allstar Collection

But there wasn't a squeak. We'd never seen anything like Kes. Based on the Barry Hines novel A Kestrel for a Knave it is about skinny Billy Casper (brilliantly played by David Bradley making his screen debut) who lived in a northern coal-mining community. Billy hated school like we did, he messed about and felt isolated like we did, and wondered what the point of everything was. Then he hooked up with a kestrel, learned to train it and love it, and discovered not only a purpose in life but an ability to communicate that he had never had before.

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None of us had kestrels, but we all related to the film. Most fictional kids we'd seen on the telly were posh and public-school, like Tom Brown. But Kes wasn't about privilege – just the opposite. Working-class boys speaking in working-class accents, and sometimes muttering so much that you couldn't make out what they were saying. The language was colloquial, the film was lit like the real world, the actors didn't look like actors.

Back then, I didn't know Ken Loach was a radical film-maker with a complete cinematic philosophy of his own: that he made people mumble deliberately, and only used natural light (the cameraman was the brilliant Chris Menges) and non-professional actors alongside professional actors to make things naturalistic. Nor did I know that he didn't tell the actors or non-actors what was going to come next, so they were as shocked or as delighted (shocked, normally – after all, this is classic Loach) as we were when it happened.

 Kes, football scene Photograph: Allstar Collection/WOODALL FILMS/Sportsphoto Ltd./Allstar

There are so many great scenes in the film – training the kestrel, Billy's inspirational talk to the class, his brother's terrible betrayal – but my favourite is the football. It could have been us playing at Crumpsall Open Air. Brian Glover, the games teacher who thinks he's Bobby Charlton and takes every free kick and blows his whistle when any of the kids tackle him, looked and acted like the benign bully Mr Reynolds who took us for games. This was life as we knew it. When Billy was stuck in goal because he was a useless outfield player, I understood how he felt. They stuck me in goal too, but I had a very different approach to Billy. Goalkeeping became as significant for me as the kestrel did for Billy. I flung myself at Doc-Martined feet, dived on gravel and bloodied my knees every day in my desperate attempts to prove myself to the hard kids at school.

Now I know that you can look back to the Italian neorealists and the Czech new wave, and find the roots of Kes in the genius of, say, Roberto Rossellini and Jiri Menzel. But that didn't make any odds back in the 70s when I first saw it, and doesn't now. What matters is that Kes is a brilliant film, and one that still shows the best movies can be about everyday lives.

 

Evaluation of my Research

I believe my research is really good in preparation of my new wave video and essay, by watching all three films and evaluating them critically by using the different elements and most importantly by comparing them to each other really helps to analyse and understand how and why they were made. By knowing before watching the films all the background information on them and by watching interviews of the characters themselves to help understand their intake on the film and what they enjoyed about making it helps to comprehend everything on the new wave. 

I liked watching the films as they were different to anything I had ever been shown to, they were different in the fact they made you think of people you knew, they lived in ordinary houses and played ordinary lives, they had normal jobs like any of your own family and they really showed you the social realism that hadn't been shown in cinema before the British New Wave. 

The books that I had read in preparation of the essay were Studying British Cinema: The 1960s by Danny Powell and Best of British Cinema and society from 1930. I believe they were not as helpful as I'd have hoped, The book by Powell didn't contain many elements of new wave however helped to identify the top films from that era in that time period. 

I also read many reviews on each film to get an intake of other people's opinions and their intake on the film and comparing to my own. By watching the videos on youtube involving the main actors and also other very famous actors including Timothy Spall, gives you an incite on what the films had been like in the world of cinema in the celebrity eye - which is ironic as the films are made for celebrity's to view a socialist and hyperreal view. The youtube videos I would put as most helpful as they helped to decipher people's actual thoughts about the film - as I only really had my own to compare them to and reviews online. They helped connote all the British new wave connotations which in turn helped me to write and plan my essay.

I've learned that my favourite film New Wave film out of the three was definitely Kes and by being a big fan of Ken Loach's work anyway and have already watching it before finding out the genre and all the social contexts. It really stands out as being very well made by involving all the social elements a new wave film has and makes the audience feel an array of emotions as Loach provides us with a perfect set of unknown people who he creates to be actors.

New Wave Film Brief

In my New Wave film I'm going to use loads of long takes, not much verity of shots, the camera angles will be basic and if i decide to have communication it will be shot-reverse-shot to distinguish the reality and the common.

I'll use minimal camera movement such as tracking and panning and try and outline a very basic narrative surrounding basic people and it could possibly show the troubles people go through in today's society and how they are very similar to how they've always been.

I wont use very many actors as all the films I have watched in preparation seem to have one key main character. I'll try not to use dialogue as I'm not sure I will have the actors to make it seem realistic. By using an overlay of music and the actors I have to use more expression with what they're doing to make it narrative obvious.

I will use real locations such as train stations and parks, corner shops etc to make it obvious to the audience that the film genre is New Wave and social realist. Unfortunately I do not have the choice of professional actors so the actors I will have anyway will be using normal average clothing. 

I may look into the element of using black and white to create the saw raw effect of early British Cinema even though times have changed and the use of black and white now is very rare.


REFERENCES

https://www.newyorker.com/goings-on-about-town/movies/a-taste-of-honey-4

https://en.wikipedia.org › wiki › Kitchen_sink_realism

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHsOSySZOyo
https://www.nytimes.com/1962/05/01/archives/screen-a-taste-of-honey-arrivesbritish-drama-stars-rita-tushingham.html

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/A_Taste_of_Honey
https://www.theguardian.com/film/filmblog/2011/dec/02/my-favourite-film-kes
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Saturday_Night_and_Sunday_Morning_(film)
https://www.bfi.org.uk/films-tv-people/4ce2b6b513f84
https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0064541/
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Kes_(film)