If you have an Amazon Prime subscription, and live in the UK; there are a few days left in which to watch the 1978 movie Stevie - a biography of the writer Stevie Smith; which I have found nigh impossible to get-hold-of otherwise (at an acceptable price).
Stevie originated as a stage play; and the movie sticks pretty closely to this format - mostly taking place in one room; and mostly consisting of Stevie herself, talking to camera or else to the elderly aunt with whom she lived. Nothing much "happens": this is - necessarily - a talking movie.
The acting of Glenda Jackson as Stevie, and Mona Washbourne as her "Lion Aunt" is absolutely first class. I have never before seen this kind of deeply loving family relationship portrayed so convincingly, affectionately, humorously, and in such detail!
And Glenda Jackson's central performance is just superb - so engaging, so varied and consistently interesting with extremes of light and shade, and yet so well-integrated. My only criticism is that - like nearly-all actors - she sometimes doesn't speak the poems as poetry - indeed, they are sometimes spoken so prosaically as to be miss-able.
But the main thing I took away from the movie was the emotional power with which it focused on "life" - Stevie Smith's unique, witty, bleak, and incisive insights into life...
And death - which was her great recurrent subject.
Stevie Smith was very odd, very eccentric, almost fey; inwardly a woman of unstable extremes.
Superficially she strikes as very old-fashioned and traditional, one who lived a routine, hardly varying, apparently mundane middle class existence.
And yet, in truth, she was a modern woman - albeit part-time; fundamentally an existentialist - decades before that became a fashionable pose.
Modern, but much more honest and explicit than most moderns.
By her ultimately anti-religious, anti-spiritual (therefore modern) assumptions; Stevie had - like nearly-all modern people - painted herself into a corner of despair, from which her honesty could perceive no genuine possibility of escape.
But rather than trying to deny or distract-herself from this terrible vision of life and of death - she confronted it head-on, again and again....
She tormented herself with death, almost; perhaps to test her own strength, or to challenge others with this "reality". Perhaps in hope of finding a flaw in her reasoning, or of being convincingly contradicted.
Well... This is how the movie encapsulates Stevie, and does so very movingly, in a dramatically satisfying way. Thus, it has her firmly rejecting "the Christian religion" for its covert "cruelty" behind a mask of sweetness.
The main cruelty being to pretend to offer the delusory hope of Heaven.
Stevie Smith certainly wrote this, at one point, and doubtless felt it on that day and others; and surely believed it at those times and points.
Also, because she experienced living as hard ("tiring") she sometimes looked-forward to death; perhaps as a long and restful sleep - but other times death was seen as an utter annihilation that apparently rendered life insignificant.
Yet it is easy to detect, behind the fact of her writing so much and so harshly on the subject, that Stevie Smith was not sure that she was correct in her rejection of all hope after death.
This comes-out in that extreme inconsistency which is so characteristic, especially in the stream of consciousness of her longer poems and prose.
Contradictions of opinions, variable moods, extremes of generosity and selfishness, compassion and spitefulness. A good deal of sharp statement - then self-subversion.
This was her nature.
Stevie Smith was almost a household name in England from the 1960s and into the 80s, on BBC Radio frequently (when that commanded audiences of many millions) and even on TV; quite widely enjoyed and recognized as strange but significant.
However, I think her name and reputation are fading into obscurity and neglect. The fact of her being of an earlier generation, as well as her one-off oddness, is unappealing to the current generation. With SS; the average contemporary reader will not find ideological and emotional confirmation of current prejudices and obsessions - which is what so many seem to want from their reading!
With Stevie Smith, either the reader allows himself to be drawn into her world view, to see things (for a while) in her way - or else you will not find her interesting or enjoyable.
Which is a great pity! Because there are never many real poets, even fewer women poets, and even fewer poets whose quality is spontaneously unique - absolutely one-off.
If you value and want what Stevie Smith gave us, then there is nowhere else you can get it; because there was nobody else who did it.
And never shall be.