“The Big Push” is a Cinematic Poem Animated Short Film Featuring Poetry Of John Glenday Directed By Xin Li and Laurie Harris.
Directed by: Xin Li and Laurie Harris
Animation by: Xin Li
Music and Sound by: Nick Norton-Smith
Executive Producer: Andy Glynne
Produced by: Mosaic Films
“The film is based on John Glenday’s poem of the same name, inspired by James Herbert Gunn’s evocative 1916 painting, ‘The Eve of the Battle of the Somme’.
The film-poem was animated using a painstaking paint-on-glass technique by Chinese-Australian artist Xin Li. Each frame was hand-painted, using no computer effects to create an animation that mirrors the powerful effect of Gunn’s painting.
The Poem was originally commissioned by The Poetry Society and The Fleming Collection.”
Written and Narrated by: John Glenday
“The Big Push” by John Glenday
Would you believe it, there’s a bloke out there singing
‘When You Come to the End of a Perfect Day’.
His audience, a sixty-pounder crew, stand round bleeding
from the ears. The Boche are all but finished, apparently –
I heard they’re packing old clock parts into trench mortars
now, for want of iron scrap. Some wag quips that next time he’s
sentry and hears the plop of a minnenwerfer tumbling over,
he’ll not blow the alarm, he’ll shout: ‘Time, gentlemen, please…’
We laugh and for one heartbeat forget to be afraid. Bravery
and cowardice are just two workings of the same fear
moving us in different ways. The 8th East Surreys
have been given footballs to kick and follow at Zero Hour;
it’s to persuade them from the trenches lest their nerve fail
as they advance on Montaubon. I’ve watched men
hitch up their collars and trudge forward as if shrapnel
and lead were no worse than a shower of winter rain.
This afternoon a few of us went swimming in the mill dam
behind Camp. Just for a while to have no weight, to go drifting
clear of thought and world, was utter bliss. A skylark climbed
high over the torn fields on its impossible thread of song:
“like an unbodied joy.” I don’t know why, but it reminded
me of the day we took over from the French along the Somme;
it was so tranquil, so picturesque, the German trenchworks crowded
with swathes of tiny, brilliant flowers none of us could name.
I believe if the dead come back at all they’ll come back green
to grow from the broken earth and drink the gathered water
and all the things they suffered will mean no more to them
than the setting-in of the ordinary dark, or a change of weather.