The nature of the attachments that Anderson describes in the entries for this period is not straightforward to define: the original entries contain more overt references to his sexual frustration and overall desire to come to terms with his own homosexuality:
If paradise is not for the sex-obsessed, nor is the kingdom of this world. I am unable to make up my mind what (of those things which are within my reach) I want. A celibate life, sexual frustration compensated by friendship, activity, creation? Or sexual release accomplished by lavatory-encounters? … For the moment this dilemma remains unresolved. (Anderson 1948g: LA 6/1/10/40) That August 1948 entry features in the published diaries but without the above passage. The edited version keeps hidden the more intimate aspects of Anderson’s life, but, as a result, leaves open to speculation the reasons underlying his feeling of a lack of achievement. (Anderson 2004a: 54) Anderson’s “dissatisfaction” can only be attributed to his thirst for recognition, which he suspects, will not be answered quickly. (ibid.)
The entry for December 19th, 1948 has a similar structure: it confirms that Anderson values the completion of his first documentary for the Sutcliffes while still expressing
a general feeling of “dissatisfaction”. (Anderson 1948i: LA 6/1/10/44) The entry features in the published diaries: the expurgated version does give an insight into Anderson’s state of mind and relationship with his Sequence collaborators. (ibid.
2004a: 54-5) Gavin Lambert and Peter Ericsson are depicted as insensitive and unsupportive, while his love for Ford’s films and hope to meet with him provide him with the otherwise lacking emotional and intellectual fulfilment. Missing however, are Anderson’s interrogations about Ford’s own sexuality (ibid.)
The original entry also develops further Anderson’s view of his working relationship with his Sequence co-editors: in a way that echoes his authorial claim over the ultimate form of Meet the Pioneers, he defines himself as the “leading spirit,
editorially the one with most flair”. (Anderson 1948i: LA 6/1/10/46) Anderson then proceeds to list the extent of his editorial control by giving examples of the sections he either wrote single-handed or modified substantially before they went to press.
(ibid.) However, instead of deriving a sense of pride or even intellectual ownership over the journal, Anderson appears to use these examples as proof of his inability to lead:
Why do I write this? To force myself to accept the fact of my pre-eminence in at least one aspect of the combination. Perhaps I am getting down to a fundamental of my character – a shrinking from leadership, from responsibility. (ibid.)
A contradictory view of his authorship credentials emerges: Anderson measures the value of his involvement against the level of support that his collaborators show him.
His appraisal of Three Installations in 1951, for instance, highlights the consequences of a lack of a meaningful working relationship:
To this extent, the films are truly personal. I refuse to indulge in the flashy for its own sake … but in their place can be found only an
utterly conventional conception, proceeding in a number of unadventurous, if tastefully arranged, set-ups. I suppose it’s still possible that Three Installations will constitute an advance; but I feel that any progression in it is comparative – no liberation. Which is not surprising, since I am not liberated in any, any sense. (Anderson 1951b: LA 6/1/11/10)
It is interesting to note that Hedling uses this quote to illustrate the lack of any distinctive film aesthetic in these documentaries. (Hedling 2010: 317) Here the feelings of dejection are linked once again to sexual and intellectual frustrations.
Mentions of a “lively interest in a stocky workman”, as well as a quote from Amiel, verbalising his longing for personal and artistic fulfilment, illustrate the fact.
(Anderson 1951b: LA 6/1/11/10) They also recall Anderson’s lashing out against Lambert and Ericsson’s indifference to his filming of the Sutcliffe’s documentaries.
(Anderson 2004a: 55)
In that same October 1951 entry, there is a reference to Reggiani which does not appear in the published diary: Anderson in keeping with the lyrical tone of Amiel’s quotation, states that “the one in your thoughts is not the real one”. (Anderson 1951b:
LA 6/1/11/13) The original diaries confirm the extent of Anderson’s obsession with Secret People’s lead. A visit to Paris in late 1951 is presented as an escape from professional frustration: he speaks of “physical and mental exhaustion” as a result of creative differences with Derek York over the editing of Three Installations.
This entry features in the published diaries – Anderson 2004a: 58. The unpublished follow-up entry is in French. (Anderson 1951c: LA 6/1/11/51) Anderson addresses Reggiani directly in the form of a mock dialogue that reproduces conversations they would have shared. Reggiani would have told him that he lives in a box – “je semble à toi vivre dans une boîte!” – thereby confirming Anderson’s mental anguish and
longing for self-actualisation. (ibid.) The entry concludes on his resolve to take a more active stance, which he likens to the experience of tightrope walking – “marcher sur une corde”. (ibid.)
Anderson’s expression of his feelings for Reggiani in his diaries, finds an echo in the 19 December 1948 entry. The original entry is over four pages long, and includes similar interrogations about the possibility of a future with a man whose
heterosexuality and marital status place him beyond Anderson’s reach. (Anderson 1948i: LA 6/1/10/45)
The context in which his thoughts about Ford’s sexuality emerge, has been retained in the published diaries: we learn that Anderson had eventually heard back from the American director through Jack Beddington, the former Head of the Films Division of the Ministry of Information. In the note sent to Beddington, Ford indicated he would hire Anderson, in the event of his coming to England. (Anderson 2004a: 54) In the original entry Anderson integrates his hopes of working with Ford alongside a larger consideration of the director’s film aesthetic. He mentions seeing Fort Apache (1948) again with Ericsson and includes references to The Fugitive (1947) and They Were Expendable (1945). Anderson still sees Fort Apache as flawed: he deems
“unforgivable” the interior photography, “the careless matching” – especially the
“serenade sequence” – “and almost all the acting”. (Anderson 1948i: LA 6/1/10/44) He also betrays his anguish over the lack of direct contact with Ford, following the letter he had sent the director and in which he criticised Fort Apache. (ibid.)
A similar urge to reconsider a verdict on a previously disliked film can also be noted in later entries in which Reggiani appears. On 12 October 1951, Anderson mentions
seeing Les Portes de la Nuit again and experiencing the same disappointment as in previous viewings. (Anderson 1951: LA 6/1/11/2) However, in both instances, he also finds in his attachment and admiration for the two men’s respective talent, an
opportunity to develop a greater insight into his own film aesthetic. This is one that blends the personal and the professional as his reflections on Prévert’s text for Les Portes de la Nuit show:
Serge spoke of Prévert’s love for men and women, and that is there in the film, together with his special poetic vision on life. It has that quality: through the images and words, a man is talking to us, trying to talk to us about life … I am far from being attuned to Prévert’s way of speaking, feeling about things; to a certain extent because of my complete lack of sexual experience. For Prévert … draws his
inspiration to a large degree from love. (Anderson 1951: LA 6/1/11/4) Going back to the 19 December 1948 entry, the connections between love,
homosexuality and artistic creation are explicitly made to question Ford’s sexuality.
In turn, this leads Anderson to ponder on his own personal and professional future, and the role which his deep attachment for these unattainable figures will play in it.
However, his appraisal of male characterisation in Ford’s films can easily be seen in parallel with the later consideration of Prévert’s writing and Reggiani’s passionate acting in Les Portes de la Nuit. It also prefigures his subsequent articles in Sequence about Ford’s directorial style: The “special poetic vision on life” in Prévert’s work (Anderson 1951: LA 6/1/11/4), parallels the “absolute integrity of feeling”, the
“affirmative response to life” which Anderson sees as underpinning Ford’s camera-style and dramatic composition in his films. (Anderson 1950b: 463)
It is worth noting that Anderson wrote his two major articles on Ford in Sequence during the period in which he was involved in the filming of the Sutcliffe’s
documentaries. By the time he had completed his article The Quiet Man in Sequence
14, in 1952, he had also met Ford in Dublin and developed a close relationship with Reggiani.
Taking into account the nature of Anderson’s writings at the time of the making of these documentaries, allows me to adopt a third approach: one that is not seeking to establish with certainty the traces of an emerging film aesthetic but rather, one that highlights the measurable impact which Anderson’s emotional mindset had upon his work. To him, building a close network of personal support and professional expertise was central to the actualisation of his authorial voice. In that sense, filming these documentaries in which there was little creative latitude possible, gave him the opportunity to experience what he admired in Jennings’s work: “the idea of connection, by contrast or juxtaposition”. (Anderson 1953: 363).