Here is a vital film about an extraordinary, infuriating human being. We first become aware of David Newlyn Gale in the most chilling circumstances. A rainy street in London. Dogs in the distance. Building synth chords. Then a desperate wailing from an ordinary window. We move inside to find an elderly man in an apparent state of agonised despair. One might reasonably wonder if there will be any getting through Simon Chambers’s documentary.
Very much so. It transpires that David Newlyn Gale, former actor and teacher, is running through the “Howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones” speech from King Lear (rather brilliantly as it happens).
Shortly thereafter, Chambers pops up to explain how he landed the thankless task of caring for his uncle David. While working on a documentary about traffic in India, he receives a despairing call and returns home to find the geezer living in chaos.
The wonder of Uncle David’s tale is that, while each constituent seems plausible – the stuff of tabloid sob stories – it is remarkable to see them all play out in the same life. He is a fanatical hoarder. He is too trusting with his money. (Or is something stranger still going on there?) He did not acknowledge his homosexuality until his 60s. Despite apparently having considerable savings, he lives off little else but soup from cans.
‘There are times I regret having kids. They’re adults, and it’s now that I’m regretting it, which seems strange’
Cillian Murphy: ‘You had the Kerry babies, the moving statues, no abortion, no divorce. It was like the dark ages’
The Dublin couple who built their house in a week
John Creedon: ‘I was always being sent away, not because they didn’t love me, but because they couldn’t cope’
By the time we get to a late catastrophe one is utterly hooked and utterly despairing. Uncle David is like a character from Harold Pinter but, despite the abundant pressures, kinder and sunnier than that playwright would ever allow.
This is often a difficult film to watch. The subject’s physical frailty is palpable, and his resistance to even the least intrusive advice is infuriating. The atmosphere of fug, filth and peril is suffocating. But Chambers selects the footage cunningly to always allow whispers of charm to filter through the stubbornness. The documentarian seems a humble fellow, but, accidentally, he emerges as every bit as much a hero as his singular relative.
It is stirring to see this Irish production, winner of best director at the International Documentary Festival Amsterdam, get a decent theatrical release. Few will emerge without feeling they have made an exasperating new friend.
Much Ado about Dying opens in cinemas on Friday, May 10th
