Directed by Peter Greenaway, 1982, 103 minutes

Mrs. Herbert (Janet Suzman) contracts a draughtsman, Mr. Neville (Anthony Higgins) to draw twelve views of her husband’s house and garden whilst he is away on business. In return she will offer Mr. Neville sex on demand in addition to his fee. Mr. Neville attempts to draw the views and enjoys erotic encounters with both Mrs. Herbert and her daughter Mrs. Talman (Anne Louise Lambert). It soon becomes obvious that Mr. Herbert (Dave Hill) is never going to return, and the draughtsman realises that he is part of a complicated stratagem.

Peter Greenaway trained as a graphic artist; he fervently believes that painting and drawing are aesthetically superior to cinema and that they surpass film as a tool for the communication of ideas. His films express an acute frustration with the constraints of the flat screen and locked frame. He regards narrative as a prison, shackling cinema to text and stunting its potential for intellectual debate. For Greenaway text and speech are increasingly restrictive channels of communication in a world where technology offers increased opportunities to use image, sound and three-dimensional space to explore ideas.

Greenaway’s first feature-length film ‘The Falls’ (1980) established his interest in seeking new directions for cinema and introduced some of the themes that recur in his later work. ‘The Draughtsman’s Contract’ may be Greenaway’s first attempt to work within the more conventional idiom of narrative cinema but it retains a refreshing air of experimentation and is much easier to watch than his uncompromising debut. Greenaway’s films distort cinematic norms and challenge audience perceptions of reality. Action is theatrically staged and framed, as if he wants to impose order on his subjects in the same way that a painter controls the characters on canvas. In ‘Draughtsman’s Contract’ Peter Greenaway may be commenting ironically on his own techniques. He frames his shots through the draughtsman’s perspective grid, emphasising his need to impose order on the world. Mr. Neville’s rules and regulations aim to keep the house and its surroundings constant so that they can be properly recorded but the draughtsman’s obsession with accuracy and perspective, his ‘eye for optical theory’ ultimately blinds him to the symbolic dimension of his surroundings. The artist who believes that he can accurately record constantly shifting realities must always fail:  Shadows move, light shifts. In this fluid universe the ability to grasp symbol, system and metaphor is a far more useful faculty than the ability to literally reproduce what the eye sees. The text of the contract is designed to deceive but the draughtsman’s images reveal some of the truth even though we lack the visual literacy required to read all the clues; when the artist fails to grasp the full implications of everything that he depicts the consequences can be deadly. Greenaway develops this concept in his later work, particularly in ‘Nightwatching’ (2012), his study of Rembrandt.

As the draughtsman attempts to render his surroundings accurately in black and white the viewer (and, eventually, the draughtsman himself) become aware that something else is going on. Objects resonant with symbolic weight are placed like props on a stage. The house and garden become a theatre for some hidden ritual; like one of Nicolas Poussin’s rigidly structured allegorical landscapes they become expectant, tense, as if waiting for magic; statues move, and garden ornaments possess occult meaning. This symbolic landscape may or may not contain all the clues needed to solve the mystery of Mr Herbert’s murder, but ‘The Draughtsman’s Contract’ is not a whodunit. The viewer is left to draw their own conclusions from the evidence. Greenaway’s interest lies in the visual and intellectual possibilities of placing the clues; ‘the disposition of the linen’, he is more interested in the rules of the game than the result. The society that Greenaway shows us is obsessed with status, property and ownership. The laws which govern inheritance and ownership place women at a tactical disadvantage in this world and they are forced to develop their own stratagems to gain the upper hand. As the film progresses the viewer and the draughtsman both realise that gender and power roles are not as they first appear. Games, puzzles and rules are central to Greenaway’s discussion of sexuality and power and recur throughout his work but here they arise naturally from the story and character, feeling fresh and unforced. The film avoids the doctrinaire, didactic tone of some his later films, particularly ‘Drowning by Numbers’ (1988) where formal structures dominate and the characters become pawns.

Despite its mannered style and intellectual gamesmanship, ‘The Draughtsman’s Contract’ also satisfies the senses. Although it avoids the notoriety and graphic nudity of some of Greenaway’s later work (for example ‘Goltzius and the Pelican Company’, 2012) the film’s forthright attitude to sexuality gives the film a refreshingly sharp erotic charge. Greenaway has said that his film is a tribute to the English landscape tradition and the gentle, southern English countryside has rarely looked so idyllic on screen (the film was shot at Groombridge near Tunbridge Wells): Whether bathed in clear sunlight or momentarily eclipsed by cloud the view is always perfect, as the season turns from Summer to Autumn you can almost feel the change in the air and smell the burning of the leaves; night-time sequences are exquisitely lit and echo the nocturnes of enigmatic French painter Georges de La Tour. Despite his insistence on the primacy of image Greenaway’s screenplay is playful, reflecting the 17th century’s love of conceit and puns. The precise Augustan cadence of the speech gives the film an infectiously witty tone which offsets its darker moments. Michael Nyman’s soundtrack, reworking themes from Purcell is without doubt his finest film score. Like the film’s language and visuals, it produces an exaggerated sense of period. Sharp chords and relentless rhythm complement the action and delight the ear.

Greenaway, by his own admission has little time for the conventions of costume drama or the futility of striving for historical accuracy. He makes it clear that the venal, selfish culture that he depicts is, in most respects much the same as contemporary Britain with its conspicuous consumption and obsession with property.  He initially included anachronistic props and art to emphasise his disregard for historical veracity, but these were later removed. Visuals and language, together with Sue Blane’s intricate costumes invoke a heightened sense of time and place very different from our own. Like Fellini’s ‘Satyricon’ (1969) or Ken Russell’s ‘The Devils’ (1971) the past that is recreated here has very few comforting points of correspondence with our own time. The film gives the viewer that uncomfortable sense of being displaced in time so often lacking in films that strive more self-consciously for historical veracity.

Peter Greenaway’s films tend to polarise viewers. His work can be viewed as either coldly pretentious or startlingly original. Some will feel that this director is far too clever for his own good. Cinema fans who like a clear plot and ‘straight story’ will find ‘Draughtsman’s Contract’ utterly infuriating. There may be a hidden meaning in the ‘disposition of linen’ or Greenaway may simply be having a joke at the audience’s expense. The film is like an intricately constructed puzzle. It can be admired as a thing of beauty, even if you are unsure how all the pieces fit together.

Quotes:

“I used to pee like a horse, I still do.” Mrs. Clement (Lynda Marchal)

“I hold the delight or despondency of a man of property by putting his house in shadow or in sunlight. Even possibly I have some control over the jealousy or satisfaction of a husband by depicting his wife, sir, dressed or undressed.” Mr. Neville (Anthony Higgins)

Connections

Film

‘Fellini-Satyricon’ Directed by Federico Fellini (1969)

‘The Devils’ directed by Ken Russell (1971)

‘Fellini’s Casanova’ directed by Federico Fellini (1976)

‘The Baby of Macon’ directed by Peter Greenaway (1993)

‘Orlando’ directed by Sally Potter (1992)

‘Nightwatching’ directed by Peter Greenaway (2007)

‘Goltzius and the Pelican Company’ directed by Peter Greenaway (2012)

Reading

Alan Woods, Being Naked Playing Dead: The Art of Peter Greenaway, Manchester University Press, 1996, ISBN 0719047722

Music

Michael Nyman, ‘The Draughtsman’s Contract’ Virgin 1989

Anything by Henry Purcell (1659-1695); the soundtrack to Tony Palmer’s 1995 Purcell ‘biopic’ ‘England, My England’ (Erato 0630107002) provides a good introduction to this composer’s work.