WELCOME to day four of our top 20 Scottish film moments of all time. Why did we choose to focus on specific film moments as opposed to whole films? We thought it would be more interesting, allowing us to offer an alternative slant on what makes films important and memorable, as well as to look beyond Scottish films (however you care to define that term), at movies that have had an effect on how Scotland is perceived elsewhere, or have reflected ideas about Scottish identity.
In compiling our list we set ourselves some ground rules - our moments didn't have to be from Scottish films, but would have to have an identifiable Scottish connection on screen. We also wanted to avoid any film featuring on the list more than once.
I'm much indebted to the panel of experts who assembled the list: Janice Forsyth of Radio Scotland's The Movie Café; critics Mike McCahill and Eddie Harrison; and writer Brian Pendreigh. Mark Cousins, the author of The Story of Film, also contributed.
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FLYING FROM THE SCOTSMAN, THE 39 STEPS, ALFRED HITCHCOCK, 1935
WITH his clipped vowels, pencil-thin moustache, dashing good looks and immaculate tailoring, Robert Donat is the quintessential Englishman in Hitchcock's loose adaptation of John Buchan's wrong-man thriller. With a plot that fires him north of the Border, he's also the ideal stranger-in-a-strange-land, heightening the fledgling British film industry's conception of Scotland as a foreign country in which Edinburgh paperboys get asked if they "speaka da English", gruff crofters threaten their wives, and the Highlands are a stone's throw from the capital. But geographical accuracy and ridiculous stereotypes are irrelevant here: this is the film that set the template for all Hitchcock's classic suspense thrillers. The high point is Donat's escape from the Flying Scotsman as it hurtles over the Forth Bridge. Pursued by police, he climbs out of the train and into another carriage, the bridge's steel cantilever structures zipping by overhead. When the train grinds to a halt, he makes his daring escape, clinging perilously to the girders on the bridge's underside, the Firth of Forth lapping at its base far below. Partly shot on location, it's the only film Hitchcock made in Scotland, and the extended shot of the bridge from the shore is magnificent.
ALISTAIR HARKNESS
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40||HIDING THE WATER OF LIFE, WHISKY GALORE!, ALEXANDER MACKENDRICK, 1949
HAVING alleviated the wartime drought by liberating hundreds of crates of whisky from a marooned cargo ship, the inhabitants of Todday hide it in every nook and cranny as Customs and Excise officials descend on the fictional Hebridean island. Pouring it into hot-water bottles, gas lanterns and water tanks, they also hide bottles in stoves and down drains, even under a sleeping baby. The whole sequence is a hilarious parody of the Gestapo house-to-house searches prominent in wartime thrillers. Director Alexander MacKendrick's involvement in the scene may be in doubt - the American-born Scot's original film was apparently a mess, and it's possible fellow Ealing director Charles Crichton shot it at a later stage. It's a sublime comic moment and reinforces the great anti-authoritarian contretemps between English customs officer Farquharson (Henry Mollison) and local postmaster Joseph Macroon (Wylie Watson). "I'll call earlier next time," says Farquharson, fully aware of what's happened. "Och! I didn't mind you calling late at all," replies Macroon, slyly reaching behind him to the kitchen tap to fill up a glass with... yep, whisky. Brilliant.
ALISTAIR HARKNESS
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DANCING ON THE GRASS, GREGORY'S GIRL, BILL FORSYTH, 1981
GANGLY Gregory finally gets his girl. The one he never knew he wanted: the coolest girl in school. And she was the lead singer in Altered Images. In 1981 that was very cool.
The happy ending to a divine comedy sees schoolboy Gregory (John Gordon Sinclair) on an unexpected date. He thought he was meeting gorgeous Dorothy, the footie ace, but a network of sussed teenage girls changed his plans.
So he's off to the park with Susan (Clare Grogan). As they sit on the grass, he suggests that they dance, while lying on their backs. They do hand-dancing as Gregory explains that they're clinging to Earth as it spins around at 1,000 miles an hour - the only way to stay on is to keep dancing. As he talks, the camera tilts, creating the illusion that they're upright, their hand-jives silhouetted against a spectacular sunset. Teenage problems evaporate amid the sheer joy of being young and loving life.
This is Bill Forsyth at his best, doing great work with young actors and having fun with visual gags. It's the crowning glory of the comedy that put him on the map, and helped to kick-start the Scottish film industry.
JANICE FORSYTH
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32||SERGEANT HOWIE DISCOVERS THE AWFUL TRUTH, THE WICKER MAN, ROBIN HARDY, 1973
THE rules for detective thrillers have remained remarkably consistent, from Holmes to Rebus. Often our hero is dispatched to a remote, sinister community, but law and order generally triumph. The Wicker Man burned the rulebook - and just about everything else besides.
Edward Woodward's Sergeant Howie thinks he has solved the disappearance of a missing girl on a remote Scottish island. Fearing she is to be turned into a human sacrifice by her pagan neighbours, he joins a masked parade as the fool (bad choice), with the intention of saving her.
The Wicker Man had already wrong-footed its audience several times, with its creation of a community where the locals not only fornicate on the lawn but, even more shockingly, burst into song at every conceivable opportunity as if they are on Broadway. It could so easily have turned into a camp, Caledonian variation on The Rocky Horror Show, but it just adds to the chilling sense of unease.
The film trips up the audience and Sgt Howie one last time. His face distorts in horror as he comes over a hill, sees the wicker man (before we do) and finally realises he is the intended sacrifice. Imprisoned within the burning construction, his joyless rendition of the 23rd Psalm contrasts starkly with the islanders' gleeful rendition of the folk song Sumer is Icumen In. Howie is the author of his own misfortune, a sanctimonious character who could not see beyond his own certainties (or prejudices) and who passed each and every test of his virginity.
The film inspired an annual music festival and has been the subject of a Hollywood remake, several books, an academic conference and all sorts of interpretations. Quite apart from anything else, it dramatically underlines the demise of Christianity in Scotland.
BRIAN PENDREIGH
THE TOP 20 SO FAR
||2726|| Getting shirty with Idi Amin, The Last King of Scotland, Kevin Macdonald, 2007
||2524|| A touching family reconciliation, The Bill Douglas Trilogy, Bill Douglas, 1972, 1973, 1978
||2322|| "Give me a girl at an impressionable age and she is mine for life." The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie, Ronald Neame, 1969
12 Rhapsody in Greenock, Sweet Sixteen, Ken Loach, 2002
13 A bus journey to a new house and a new life, Ratcatcher, Lynne Ramsay, 1999
||1716|| That sex scene, Red Road, Andrea Arnold, 2006
15 The roof blows off the church, Orphans, Peter Mullan, 1997
16 "Let's get pished!" So I Married an Axe Murderer, Thomas Schlamme, 1993
17 From 20th-century New York to 16th-century Scotland - in one continuous, smooth camera movement, Highlander, Russell Mulcahy, 1986
18 "This is the night mail crossing the border", Night Mail, John Grierson, 1936
19 Lizzie reads Frankie's letters on the bus, Dear Frankie, Shona Auerbach, 2004
20 Panavision cameras swoop over Glasgow's Necropolis, Deathwatch, Bertrand Tavernier, 1979
DO YOU AGREE?
WHATEVER you think of our choices - and our omissions - we'd love to hear your views. Please get in touch with us, either by post or on the web at www.scotsman.com/top20 where, from tomorrow, you'll be able to read the whole list and the reasons for each choice.
The full article contains 1338 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
