A momentary antidote to the world’s current pain
This article first appeared in the May 2022 issue of Comet.
I fear that there are many of us who literally cannot bear to listen to the news about the horrors that are unfolding in Ukraine, while the protesting world looks on, largely helplessly, sanction-escalation notwithstanding, as the big bear of Russia galumphs destructively and murderously through a country whose population – like most of us – just wants to live in peace.
As a break from all of that, I briefly went back in time, to the 1920s – an unsuspecting era in recovery from the first World War, all unawares that the second was about to appear on the horizon, with the Great Depression in between. My trip back was thanks to an ABC Conversations episode about a highly successful Australian-born author and gardener, Elizabeth Von Arnim, whose colourful life – documented in a recent biography, The Countess from Kirribilli – included marrying into German and then British aristocracy, followed by marriage to Frank Russell, brother of Bertrand. But for me, the most interesting fact was that she had been the author of a best seller of her times, Enchanted April, which I’d never heard of; but I had very fond memories of the 1992 filmic delight of the same name, on which – it now turned out – it was based. I had loved that movie, and immediately bought the eBook, to be drawn deeply into the exquisite Italianate world of love and beauty that Von Arnim had created. True, the writing is a bit old-fashioned, but once I was in it, pure escapist bliss.
Fast on its heels came the thrill of finding that the full film is available free and ad-free on YouTube. While I had loved it, it turned out that I had remembered none of the details, which were now made all the more entrancing for remaining true to the book. What I had also not remembered was its cast of enduring British stars, with Miranda Richardson winning the Golden Globe as best actress for her role, and Dame Joan Plowright awarded one as best supporting actress, and with Alfred Molina, James Broadbent and – as a delicious bonus for me – one of my favourite actors as the star of Foyle’s War: Michael Kitchen, in a sweet and significant role. And overarching all of that was the sumptuous beauty of a flower-filled Italian spring that had warmed even the most frozen heart by the end of the movie.
Thank goodness for the sort of fiction that can give us temporary relief from the real world while, as Matisse said about another war, we are in a state of “anxious stillness and waiting”.
Anne Ring ©2022