It’s been more than a decade since artist and filmmaker Derek Jarman died of complications from AIDS. For 20 years before his death, he used film to depict queer lifestyles in all their incarnations, from tender monogamy to bathhouse anonymity, always confirming his assertion that “our sexuality is as wide as the seas.” As today’s queer voices are at risk of becoming watered-down until palatable, his is needed more than ever.
Jarman, born in Middlesex, England in 1942, began his work in traditional painting, before moving on to costume and production design for various theatrical and motion picture projects. Like many filmmakers, his first attempts at directing, like Journey to Avebury (1971) and The Art of Mirrors (1974), were experiments in Super 8mm and 16mm formats. He continued to make short films through his decades-long career.
In 1976, Jarman completed his first feature-length film. Part historical revisionism, part muscle-worship video, Sebastiane told the story of the martyred saint, but in Jarman’s retelling, he is killed not for preaching the good word, but rather for refusing the advances of his macho captain. In keeping with Jarman’s always-innovative style, it was the first and last film shot entirely in Latin.
Continuing to film his own interpretations of the lives of other rebellious antiheroes, Jarman’s themes and aesthetic remained as much inspired by his passion for classical art as they were by the then-fledgling punk movement. There was the intense artist in Caravaggio (1986), a disgraced king in Edward II (1991), and a troubled genius in Wittgenstein (1993).
In his bittersweet swan song Blue (1993), a meditation on mortality that used a collage of dialogue against an unchanging blue screen, Jarman himself becomes the unwilling hero, as he faces blindness, endless drug cocktails, and certain death.
In 1986, his revelation of his positive diagnosis put him in the spotlight. He was, at the time, one of the few public figures to talk openly about HIV/AIDS. He was also an active figure in the fight against the controversial Section 28 of the U.K.’s Local Government Act in 1988, which would (in effect) make illegal any materials or forum that depicted homosexuality.
Always struggling to identify what being “gay” meant, he said: “These names: gay, queer, homosexuality, are limiting. We’re going to have to decide to which terms to use and where we use them.” It was important, he thought, that homosexuality was always open for free discussion and reinterpretation. The amendment was finally abolished in 2003, years after Jarman’s death in 1994.
With a bold mix of stage musical, modern dance, contemporary art, and soft-core porn, Derek Jarman’s influence on modern filmmakers is undeniable. Without him, there would be no Baz Luhrmans, no Bruce LaBruces, no Brokeback Mountains. His body of work is defiantly sexual, politically charged and unapologetic, his often shocking images just as potent and relevant today as they were when first shot.
Until the end, Jarman remained a fervent defender of his vision of England, of people living with HIV/AIDS, and of love-in all its forms. Blue ends with Jarman’s fear: “In time, no one will remember our work.”
A collection of 8mm and 16mm films spanning Derek Jarman’s career screens this week at Cinemateque (an offshoot of the Toronto Film Festival Group that screens classics of world cinema throughout the year). Programme 1 screens Wednesday, November 23 at 9 p.m., and Programme 2 screens Friday, November 25 at 6:30 p.m., both at Jackman Hall (at the Art Gallery of Ontario, 317 Dundas St. W.). Tickets for each screening are $10, available at the theatre.
