It’s a midweek evening and I’m heading to Soho for the much-hyped poetry documentary We Are Poets. I’m on time, but find myself Josef K.-ing it up and down the stairs for 15 minutes attempting to find someone with my ticket. Each disconnected subdivision I encounter — the bar, the box-office, some guy with a badge, another guy tearing up tickets — shuns responsibility and tells me where my ticket should be, namely, elsewhere. The unplanned detour at the start of this review explains I can’t explain the beginning of the film, which was apparently specifically brilliant, and also shows that its not only local councils which frustrate people with their bureaucracy.
Anyway, I am seated as the opening credits flash up, and the film begins. It follows six young poets from Leeds, who have each won the opportunity to represent the UK at Brave New Voices, which is a huge badass slam poetry competition in America. Slam poetry differs from written poetry in that it is performed. Speech is superior to writing, so goes the attitude, because it came first. Derrida may disagree, but that’s not the point. Here, the delivery is integral to the poetry, and the slam is like a ritual.
The film itself is attractive and strategically constructed to give the audience a journey to follow, rather than a simple document of what poets do. This is why those indifferent to poetry should still enjoy this film, for the way the characters develop and the drama of the narrative. From the safety of Leeds, the youngsters are propelled into a new world with certain demands and expectation, where their work undergoes new pressures and scrutiny. Competition and chances for success add a new dimension to writing poetry. As the performance draws near, we, the audience, are seat-edged in nervous anticipation, watching them rehearse lines through the night. Excitement, humour and adrenaline are all succinctly captured by the camera’s watchful eye.
As for the poetry, I thought that despite it’s usual eccentricities, much of it here is shown to have some hackneyed universal features which make it seem narrower and less imaginative than a lot of contemporary poetry actually is. For instance, it’s habitually politically left-leaning, but all too often fluffed up with cliché sentimentality rather than meaningful critiques or an innovative use of form. Maybe this is OK, but if this is, as is often said, the ‘voice of a generation’, then the revolution may have to wait till next time. Much of this in fact inadvertently exemplifies one particular crisis of the left — an incapacity to efficiently articulate problems and identify alternatives, or to become situated outside the system causing the problems. But, after all, these guys are Brave New Voices, i.e. young, developing poets, yet to attain complete mastery over what they are articulating, and the film shows a thriving poetry scene with plenty of energy.
Indeed, in a time of information overload vis-à-vis the internet and 24 hour news coverage, we need some voices to shine through with some unequivocally enlightening message to get the revolutionary ball rolling. Poetry is growing, and, who knows, it may soon take up this challenge. We Are Poets adds great momentum to poetry’s drive towards something big — a humble and impressive achievement for an independent film.
The after-party was pretty much your usual Word House romp, a bunch of skilled word-manipulators making us smile and think. Highlights included John Berkavitch, Anthony Anaxagorou and Dean Atta, each with their own distinctive way of delivering a worldview. A party on the other side of the room frustrated some folks at our end, but I could hear everything, so I personally didn’t mind. It’s all part of the fun.
Wish I had seen it, looks like interesting stuff!