Remember Me: Ralph Meeker and Gaby Rodgers in Kiss Me Deadly (1955)

Remember Me: Ralph Meeker and Gaby Rodgers in Kiss Me Deadly (1955)

Clint Eastwood’s Invictus is named after a poem by William Ernest Henley, who wrote it in 1875 to jiff up his spirits after his leg was amputated. Nelson Mandela (played by Morgan Freeman) quotes the lines, “I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul” as a source of uplift and inspiration, and it’s just a shame for everyone concerned that the very same poem was chosen as a pre-execution statement by Timothy McVeigh, the Oklahoma City bomber.

Henley is not the only Victorian poet whose work has provided movies with memorable but, to the uninitiated, slightly baffling titles. Even if you have never heard of Ernest Dowson, you’ll be familiar with at least two of the phrases from his work: Gone with the Wind and Days of Wine and Roses. Dipping even further back into literary history, Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind (2004) is borrowed from Alexander Pope’s poem about Eloise wishing she could forget Abelard. The enduring popularity of Rudyard Kipling’s If-, voted Britain’s Favourite Poem in a 1995 BBC opinion poll, must be at least partly due to its having been adopted, with the dash replaced by an ellipsis, as the title of Lindsay Anderson’s 1968 subversive school fantasy, though one imagines Anderson was being ironic; he reportedly loathed the poem and all it stood for.

I’m wary of poetry in the cinema, the same way I’m wary of poetry in general; I find it faintly embarrassing. I pretend to like it so no-one will think me a Philistine, but in reality the only volume of poetry I ever read from cover to cover was Baudelaire’s Les fleurs du mal, and then only because some of the poems had vampires in them. When I hear poetry in films, I automatically assume the screenwriter is co-opting someone else’s words because they’re too lazy to try and come up with something of their own. Easier for Richard Curtis to have John Hannah deliver W.H. Auden’s Funeral Blues in Four Weddings and a Funeral (1994) than to write his own eulogy to a dead companion.

Meanwhile, characters quoting verse at one another is a sure way of making my toes curl; there’s a particularly excruciating example in the duff thriller Half Moon Street (1986) when Michael Caine says, “Let us go now, you and I,” and Sigourney Weaver (playing an academic who moonlights as a call-girl) replies, “When the evening is spread out against the sky”. Soulmates, you see.

James Franco as Allen Ginsberg in Howl (2010)

James Franco as Allen Ginsberg in Howl (2010)

You’d be entitled to ask for your money back if you didn’t hear a bit of declaiming in poet-pics such as Bright Star (2009) or Howl (2010) (and if Allen Ginsberg looked anything like James Franco, who plays him, I’ll eat my Pocket Poets edition, which incidentally I only bought because it featured as a gag in the werewolf movie The Howling). And you expect to hear poetry in a film called Dead Poets Society (1989), which means Walt Whitman’s O Captain! My Captain! (written in 1865 after Abraham Lincoln’s assassination) will now forever be associated with standing on desks.

Nor are you surprised to come across it in the work of an inveterate intellectual name-dropper like Woody Allen, whose Another Woman (1988) features a scene, either breathtakingly poignant or cringe-makingly pretentious depending on your point of view, in which Gena Rowlands finds a line in a volume of Rainer Maria Rilke (“You must change your life now”) stained by her dead mother’s teardrops, the emo equivalent of a fluorescent highlighter.

But I’m not totally anti-poem. I like the way Christina Rossetti’s Remember Me keeps cropping up in Kiss Me Deadly (1955), where its context, sandwiched between torture with a pair of pliers and The Manhattan Project, makes it haunting rather than twee. Lines from John Donne’s first Holy Sonnet (“I run to death, and death meets me as fast”) add the finishing touch of suicidal gloom to the downbeat B-movie thriller The Seventh Victim (1943), while Rodney Dangerfield’s heartfelt rendition of Do Not Go Gentle into That Good Night is all the more moving for its popping up unexpectedly in the rumbustious comedy Back to School (1986).

Otherwise, I feel safer sticking with John Lillison, England’s greatest one-armed poet, whose Pointy Birds is quoted in The Man With Two Brains (1983): “O pointy birds, O pointy pointy, Anoint my head, Anointy-nointy.”

The Seventh Victim (1943)

The Seventh Victim (1943)

This piece was first published in the Guardian in January 2010. It also appeared in my self-published ebook Anne Billson on Film 2010. It has been lightly edited.



  1. There was one poem that I was expecting to be included, (but given this was originally wriiten for print it might not have survived trimming). If it is not the most used in Film, it must be the most used in Horror.

    “Even a man, who is pure in heart…..”

    (OK, so it’s a bit of a cheat, because it was commisioned for a film and has been recycled over and over again.)

    • Well yes, you said it – Curt Siodmak made it up for the film! So it doesn’t count. However, I am happy to quote it here:

      “Even a man who is pure in heart
      and says his prayers by night,
      may become a wolf
      when the wolfbane blooms
      and the autumn moon is bright.”

  2. I don’t have anything particularly insightful to say about it (it’s ace and I love it), but 8 Mile brings together the classic scrappy underdog sports story and poetry. Rocky with rhymes. “I am white, I am a fucking bum, I do live in a trailer with my mom…”

  3. What about the use of A.E. Housman’s “A Shropshire Lad” in the final scene of Nicolas Roeg’s Walkabout? As Jenny Agutter’s suburban housewife recalls her adolescence in the shimmering Australian outback and John Barry’s score swells up, an off-screen narrator speaks:

    “That is the land of lost content,
    I see it shining plain,
    The happy highways where I went
    And cannot come again”

    I thought it was a stunning image of lost happiness and innocence.

    • Lovely. Had I remembered that, I would have included it as one of the best examples of poetry in the cinema; it’s neither lazy nor trite – just perfect. You’ve just made me want to watch it again!

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