Distant Voices, Still Lives from 1988 is Terence Davies’ attempt to capture working class Liverpool life of the 1940s and 50s on film. His evocation of pub life is particularly powerful.
Perhaps a fifth or a quarter of the whole film takes place in or outside the pub.
Cosmetically, most of the details are right. We see etched glass bearing the name of Higson’s, bottles of Mackeson Stout, ten-sided pint glasses, and bell pushes on the benches where the ladies sit.
It’s run-down and plain, this pub, but that doesn’t matter because the people bring it to life.
It is where families and friends get together, crowding every space.
In a repeated shot, from the lounge or saloon into the public bar, we see men ordering rounds of drinks:
“Nora! Hey, Nora! Can I have two ‘alves of shandy, a Mackies, a Double Diamond, a pale ale and lime, a black-and-tan, a pint of mix, a rum and pep, a rum and blackcurrant, and a Guinness?”
“Rum and pep” is rum with peppermint cordial; “mix”, also known as half-and-half, is 50/50 mild and bitter.
Another reason this pub feels so vibrant is the constant singing.
Singing is how the women in the film express their feelings, from sadness to joy.
Taking it in turns to perform, or harmonising together, they sway with their glasses:
“When that old gang of mine get together… On the corner of my home town… We were friends in the past… And our friendship will last… ’Til the curtain of dreams comes down!”
Would people put up with it these days? You’d probably end up in a snarky video on social media.
There’s also a strong implication that men who don’t like the pub – who don’t go, or complain about having to go – are the most likely to be unhappy:
“Come on, Les, just one drink.”
“Alright, just one, to wet the baby’s head, but we’re not staying here all fucking night.”
They simply don’t have what it takes to rub along with other people.
There are plenty of pubs on film but this portrayal seems, somehow, more real than most. Perhaps its because it isn’t treated as special – just part of everyday life, like the back yard or the kitchen.
Distant Voices, Still Lives is available via the BFI.
15 replies on “The 1950s pub captured in a 1980s film”
I see that ordering the Guinness last has long been a problem then.
No apostrophe in Higsons and likely a pint of “mixed” not mix.
It definitely sounds like ‘mix’ in the film, and that’s what’s the subtitles say.
And as for apostrophes, we’ve got a policy.
The script is on line at
https://www.scripts.com/script.php?id=distant_voices%2C_still_lives_6995&p=13
It says “mix” but I agree it should have beeen “mixed”.
Well, you are dodging your own guidelines if I read your examples correctly. Higsons didn’t give themselves an apostrophe. 🤔
Our house style, if we can call it that, is to use the apostrophe even if the firm doesn’t:
“Breweries sometimes insist on alternative styles for the sake of branding: Watney’s was almost always written as ‘Watneys’ on labels and in marketing material, probably because designers thought the apostrophe looked ugly.”
We always (or at least when we’re paying attention) write Watney’s, not Watneys, and Fuller’s, not Fullers.
Great film, interviewed Davies at the time about it, can’t remember who for, must find the cutting and see what I wrote about the pub life.
I remember lager and lime, but not pale ale and lime. In a N London pub last w/e I saw a young woman drop a slice of lemon in her pint of cask Five Points PA.
I once saw someone order Landlord and blackcurrant in a Tim Taylor’s pub. Although in general all these splits and tops are very much a thing of the past.
I haven’t seen this film, but I do wonder whether there’s an element of rose-tinted spectacles about it.
Great film. Is it true some of the pub scenes were filmed in Ye Cracke in Liverpool?
We couldn’t find any info on the location, which is unusual because there’s a bunch of nerds online who specialise in that kind of thing.
And one of my earliest memories of beer (at the age 11) is my Liverpool Irish grandmother talking about her liking of Mackie
Always hated Distant Voices, Still Lives – it seemed like a celebration of working-class miserableness to me.
I found it very moving and authentic. Possibly because I recognised some of the dynamics of my own family, with the men getting less scary and slightly more emotionally capable with each generation.
When I worked behind the bar 25 years ago there was a regular who used to drink port and peppermint. This is the first time I’ve ever heard of ‘x and pep’ being a thing.
Rum does sound a lot nicer than port however…