‘He is one of the overlooked prose stylists of 20th century’
The Baftas and the Oscars give the industry the chance to recognise the idea that both “high art” and “low art” have their value, without having to pretend that they are the same thing.
I find it tedious when trashy films take themselves too seriously. We saw this with the latest in the Jurassic Park franchise, Fallen Kingdom, whose stilted and portentous dialogue made it apparent that the writers had forgotten they were making a silly action film about genetically engineered dinosaurs.
I much preferred the critically slated The Predator, because although the plot line was full of holes, it knew how daft and dispensable it was. The action sequences were fun, and I was never bored. There’s a lot to be said for that.
This distinction between high and low art was almost acknowledged this year when the Oscars committee considered adding a new category: Outstanding Achievement in Popular Film. Many suspected that this was a way to reward Black Panther; although the film has been nominated for Best Picture, it seems unlikely that a comic-book fantasy will be awarded with the most-coveted Oscar.
An award for Popular Film strikes me as a sensible idea; it is a way for exciting and technically accomplished films like Black Panther to get the recognition they deserve, without having to pretend that they’re serious works of art.
In an article in the Guardian this week, Hadley Freeman expressed her dismay that critics routinely perceive comedies and action movies to be “somehow less ‘excellent’, or artistic, or good, than self-conscious dramas full of Serious Actors doing their Serious Acting”. But this misses the point.
Action movies can, of course, be excellent, but on their own terms. It’s useless to pretend that Aliens, one of the finest action films of all time, it on a par artistically with Michael Haneke’s The White Ribbon, or Mike Nichols’s Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf ?
Which brings me back to Forrest Reid. He did not seek to please the general public in his writing and couldn’t have succeeded if he tried. But his form of artistry deserves much wider recognition, even if his work will never be commercially viable.
He is one of the great overlooked prose stylists of the 20th century. For those who are interested in exploring his work, I would recommend his autobiography, Apostate, as a good place to start, a powerful account of growing up in Belfast in the late1800s.
Those more interested in his novels should try Young Tom, which won the James Tait Black Memorial Prize for Fiction in 1944.
To my mind, Reid is Northern Ireland’s finest novelist. It’s a view that was shared by the likes of John Hewitt, E M Forster and the Nobel Prize-winning writer Francois Mauriac. But, in spite of his achievements, Reid remains relatively unknown.
His final home, in Ormiston Crescent, bears a blue plaque, but there is no such commemoration at 20 Mount Charles, the house of his birth.
I have visited his grave in Dundonald Cemetery a number of times, but I’m probably the only person to have done so for many years.
Perhaps, in time, Belfast will learn to cherish one of its most important sons.
Andrew Doyle works as a writer and stand-up comedian