In this timely release, sports documentary specialist James Erskine turns his attention to ice dancing, and to the winged blades of the man who was considered one of the greatest figure skaters of all time. As a child in Birmingham, John Curry longed to learn ballet but was prevented from doing so by a father who didn’t consider it a suitable activity for a boy. Figure skating, however, was permissible as it was a sport, rather than something inherently suspect like art.
Through extensively researched archive material – some of the footage of Curry’s performances, the only known copies in existence, are scrappy camcorder films shot over the shoulders of the audience – and contemporary interviews, the film paints a portrait of a difficult, driven perfectionist. Curry, the film argues, was revolutionary, both in skating, where he pioneered a combination of fluid balletic expressiveness with athletic virtuosity, and as an openly gay sportsman in terms of the sexual politics of the era. He was, however, prone to bone-deep depression. In a quote, used twice in the film for emphasis, Curry is reported as saying: “Whatever greatness I possess, there are demons of equal value.”
The film strikes a similarly even-handed balance: the soaring brilliance of his ice dancing is matched by the melancholy and loneliness that clouded his life.
