Some of the most poetic lines I have ever read have also been the darkest; two of the most interesting characters I have come across have been the bitterest. What can be more bitter than the following lines from Anne MacDonald:

“Ghosts haunt me; ghosts of crying children, children who were unwanted and unloved. They had been rejected because they were imperfect. Unfortunately there was no guarantee, no warranty period during which unsatisfactory goods could be returned to maker for repair and replacement. Nobody wanted them, but they were alive and so must continue to live with no future, no family, and no friend but death.”

Yet there is a dreadful poeticism in these lines. Her lines, and the writings of la Guerra, put one in mind of film noir, where there is beauty in darkness. There is nothing romantic in these lines, and I can think of nothing more savage short of the concentration camps to describe how Anne was treated, yet I seem eager to express these feelings on film.

In Rebecca Stanhope, La Guerra ha made this wonderfully bitter character. She seems sumptuous ant textured, and there is something of the night in her. She is incredibly strong of soul, as Anne had to be – how else would she stay sane, or indeed alive, through fourteen years in an institution? They both send shivers down my spine:

“Time was when the strongest emotion I felt was hate, and hate makes you strong. Tender emotions were dangerously softening. Implacable hatred of the whole world which hunted handicapped children into middens like St Nicholas twisted my relationships with people for years”

the above line was expressed by Anne, but it could equally have come from the mouth of Stanhope. In writing this, I am not intending to demean or make light of Anne’s experiences. Her descriptions haunted me for several nights, but as one interested in film and fiction, I cannot fail to see the potential in the power of stories such as hers. This applies equally to fact or fiction, but what is so compelling about annes story is that it is true, and what is compelling about La Guerra’s is that the detail is grounded in the truth. Imagine such a line being orated in a southern drawl, or by Anthony Hopkins.

It goes without saying that such lines go hand in hand with the experiences which forge them. Were we to have dramatis personae like Miss Stanhope in films, they and their histories should in no way be sanitised. Audiences should be shown the realities of special school, or the institution so that they can understand where these characters came from. What regular film goer can understand being shut away in an institution when one has committed no crime, and only being taken outside once in fourteen years? Very few, I suspect.

The fact remains that these experiences make for strong characters which would add texture to films. They are undeniably dark, and more than a little bleak, but within darkness there can be beauty. Take, for example, the character of Snape, whose appeal derives almost souly derives from his dark, bitter aspect. The Mise-enscene associated with him employs only blacks and dark blues, which offset Rickman’s handsomeness. The same, I would argue, could work for equally dark characters: imagine the low purr of wheelchair motors along a darkened corridor. Indeed, part of the greatness of la Guerra’s story is that she uses Stanhope to shed light on Snape by paralleling the two bitter characters. Here one can see the potential of what I am saying.

I may not be expressing myself too well tonight. My thoughts on this subject are still forming. I am by no means saying that all crips on TV should be bitter – indeed, I very much subscribe to the ‘incidental disability’ model – but I also see great potential in portraying these realistically dark characters in film. I feel they would add texture to the medium.

This year I want to start work on defining the mise-en-scene where this can be achieved: what music, lighting etc would accompany such dark characters? Hmm…