“The Hound Of Heaven” is a Cinematic Poem Short Film Trailer Of Francis Thompson Poem Directed By N.D. Wilson.
Written and Directed by: N.D. Wilson
Cinematography: Dane Saxon Wilson
Executive Producers: Kisao Kurosawa, Brian and Sally Oxley
Produced by: Aaron Rench and Caleb Applegate
Starring: Danielle Smith
Narrated by: Jason Petty aka Propaganda
“The Hound of Heaven” is a short film from emerging director, and NSA rhetoric instructor and alumnus, N.D. Wilson. It was executive produced by Hisao Kurosawa (Dreams, Ran, Rhapsody in August, After the Rain), produced by Aaron Rench and Caleb Applegate, with cinematography by NSA alum Dane Saxon Wilson, and starring hip hop artist Jason Petty AKA Propaganda and NSA student Danielle Smith.
The film premiered at Raindance Film Festival in London on October 4, 2014. In it, a girl believes that she is fleeing death, when she is actually running away from her only chance at life. Set to a surreal, nightmarish poem written in the nineteenth century by a homeless addict in London.
“The Hound of Heaven” by Francis Thompson (1893)
I fled Him down the nights and down the days
I fled Him down the arches of the years
I fled Him down the labyrinthine ways
Of my own mind, and in the midst of tears
I hid from him, and under running laughter.
Up vistaed hopes I sped and shot precipitated
Adown titanic glooms of chasme d hears
From those strong feet that followed, followed after
But with unhurrying chase and unperturbe d pace,
Deliberate speed, majestic instancy,
They beat, and a Voice beat,
More instant than the feet:
All things betray thee who betrayest me.I pleaded, outlaw–wise by many a hearted casement,
curtained red, trellised with inter-twining charities,
For though I knew His love who followe d,
Yet was I sore adread, lest having Him,
I should have nought beside.
But if one little casement parted wide,
The gust of his approach would clash it to.
Fear wist not to evade as Love wist to pursue.
Across the margent of the world I fled,
And troubled the gold gateways of the stars,
Smiting for shelter on their clange d bars,
Fretted to dulcet jars and silvern chatter
The pale ports of the moon.