tag:theconversation.com,2011:/fr/topics/australian-cinema-11543/articles
Australian cinema – The Conversation
2024-03-25T19:06:21Z
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/222597
2024-03-25T19:06:21Z
2024-03-25T19:06:21Z
‘To truly forget life for a while – a reprieve and a reward’: why Australians love going to the cinema
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575230/original/file-20240213-20-2j40o9.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/rearview-shot-little-kids-watching-movies-641241664">Khak/Shutterstock</a></span></figcaption></figure><p>Australians have had plenty of time in the last 100 years to work out what they value about cinema-going and why it matters. Head to any cinema and catch the Val Morgan advertising in the pre-show. Take a closer look at the date the company was founded. Not 1984, <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Val_Morgan">but 1894</a>. That’s more than 125 years of “Making Messages Memorable” on Australian screens.</p>
<p>We have a deep and abiding love for cinema in this country. Over the last century, the experience of going to the movies has both shifted significantly (<a href="https://villageroadshow.com.au/-/media/VRL-Corporate-Media-Library/Documents/Press-Releases/2017/5-December-Gold-Class-Celebrates-20-Years.pdf">we invented Gold Class, you know</a>) and somehow remained resolutely enduring in terms of appeal. </p>
<p>My colleague Tess Van Hemert and I have spent the last two years <a href="https://research.qut.edu.au/dmrc/projects/resilient-screens-investigating-the-value-of-australian-cinema-exhibition/">researching</a> the cultures and practices of cinema-going and how cinema sites shape that experience. </p>
<p>A typical response in our research was:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I love the cinema experience. It’s a bonding experience, if it’s good it’s a emotional and cathartic experience.</p>
</blockquote>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-promised-big-hits-sure-disappointments-and-hidden-indie-gems-well-get-from-hollywood-in-2024-219964">The promised big hits, sure disappointments, and hidden indie gems we'll get from Hollywood in 2024</a>
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</em>
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<h2>‘A reprieve and a reward’</h2>
<p>Cinemas <a href="https://www.bfi.org.uk/industry-data-insights/reports/measuring-economic-value-cinema-venues">are a catalyst</a> for social, cultural and economic activity wherever they operate, from single-screen regional sites to major multiplexes in suburban shopping malls. Cinema, our participants said, is the “ideal” way to watch a movie:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>I like to sit as close as I can to the screen so that the ‘real’ world is completely blocked out. I am immersed in & in awe of the film only. To truly forget life for a while – a reprieve & a reward.</p>
</blockquote>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575208/original/file-20240213-22-djkf8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="People watching cinema inside a packed theatre hall" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575208/original/file-20240213-22-djkf8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575208/original/file-20240213-22-djkf8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575208/original/file-20240213-22-djkf8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575208/original/file-20240213-22-djkf8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575208/original/file-20240213-22-djkf8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575208/original/file-20240213-22-djkf8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575208/original/file-20240213-22-djkf8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Cinema-goers spoke about the importance of being a quiet part of a community.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://unsplash.com/photos/group-of-people-staring-at-monitor-inside-room-23LET4Hxj_U">Jake Hills/Unsplash</a></span>
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<p>Cinemas also mirror communities back to themselves. We may go in alone, as a couple or with family and friends, but in the cinema we form a community. When reflecting on returning to the cinema between COVID lockdowns, one person spoke of seeing American Utopia:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>There were only about 10 people in the cinema. We didn’t know each other but we all started spontaneously dancing, first in our seats, and then everyone ran down to the floor in front of the screen to dance together. It was like a mini music festival when live music was banned.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Despite the cost, despite the hassle, despite the need to leave the couch, Australians turn up time and time again to cinemas. In 2023, the Australian box office generated nearly <a href="https://if.com.au/australian-box-office-neared-1b-in-2023/">A$1 billion</a> (although this is down on <a href="https://variety.com/2020/film/asia/australia-annual-box-office-drops-1203476275/">pre-COVID figures</a>). Four
of the top ten highest grossing films of all time in Australia have been released <a href="https://www.valmorgan.com.au/2022-at-the-movies">since the pandemic began</a>. Australian census data tells us cinema-going remains Australia’s <a href="https://www.abs.gov.au/statistics/people/people-and-communities#:%7E:text=44%25%20of%20people%20attended%20the,popular%20cultural%20venue%20or%20event">most popular</a> cultural activity. </p>
<h2>‘Being able to switch off’</h2>
<p>When cinemas face closure – or shut temporarily, as they did during the pandemic – the outpouring of community support can galvanise a community and remind them of all the times and ways in which they valued that access to that experience. </p>
<p>One participant spoke of seeing their first film in the cinema after the pandemic:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>It made me appreciate the whole cinema experience more. Getting out and being able to switch off was a welcome change.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In our research, we observed how cinemas began to <a href="https://www.palacecinemas.com.au/blog/the-cinema-why-we-love-it/">articulate</a> their value to community through the pandemic period of forced closures. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575215/original/file-20240213-24-gb2h4h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A ticket counter inside a movie theatre with 'Box Office' written in bright red letters" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575215/original/file-20240213-24-gb2h4h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575215/original/file-20240213-24-gb2h4h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575215/original/file-20240213-24-gb2h4h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575215/original/file-20240213-24-gb2h4h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=450&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575215/original/file-20240213-24-gb2h4h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575215/original/file-20240213-24-gb2h4h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575215/original/file-20240213-24-gb2h4h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=566&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">In 2023, the Australian box office generated nearly A$1 billion.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.shutterstock.com/image-photo/bangkok-august-29-major-cineplex-rangsit-1123739954">Shutterstock</a></span>
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<p>In the <a href="https://eprints.qut.edu.au/243758/">large-scale national audience research</a> we conducted in partnership with Palace Cinemas the value audiences derive from cinema-going was as diverse as the programming. </p>
<p>They remembered specific films, such as watching the opening credits of Force Awakens with a crowd of avid fans, or feeling like they were “experiencing summer in Italy” while watching Call Me By Your Name.</p>
<p>They focused on memories of the people they were with, such as feeling “all grown up” while seeing arthouse films with their dad when they were a kid. </p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/beyond-barbie-and-oppenheimer-how-do-cinemas-make-money-and-do-we-pay-too-much-for-movie-tickets-211121">Beyond Barbie and Oppenheimer, how do cinemas make money? And do we pay too much for movie tickets?</a>
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<h2>‘Float in the memory’</h2>
<p>They spoke about the feelings they had before during and after the screening and the experience overall. One respondent wrote of loving the end of a film:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>the quiet few minutes as the credits roll and you float in the memory of the film. This only happens for me when I see it in the cinema.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Another participant spoke about leaving the cinema and:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>doing a walk around the block thinking about the movie, still thinking about the movie driving home.</p>
</blockquote>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575211/original/file-20240213-24-zupq2f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A crowd of people watching a film inside a movie theatre" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575211/original/file-20240213-24-zupq2f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/575211/original/file-20240213-24-zupq2f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575211/original/file-20240213-24-zupq2f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575211/original/file-20240213-24-zupq2f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575211/original/file-20240213-24-zupq2f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575211/original/file-20240213-24-zupq2f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/575211/original/file-20240213-24-zupq2f.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The quiet few minutes as the credits roll.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://unsplash.com/photos/person-watching-movie-AtPWnYNDJnM">Krists Luhaers/Unsplash</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>One participant said they love “being able to have respectful (unbothered) alone time publicly”. </p>
<p>Clear in this data is that memorability – and the experience of cinema – is far more nuanced than the simple appeal of watching a big film in a big room on a big screen. Cinemas continue to serve Australian communities in far more complex way than simply movies and popcorn. </p>
<p>Cinema has always battled headwinds. Since radio, cinema has constantly faced in-home entertainment technology that was supposed to knock it over completely – TV, colour TV, cable, satellite, VHS, DVDs and now streaming. Each time, the desire for people to come together in a space and watch something unique in a way they can’t find anywhere else, with a level of engagement they can’t find anywhere else, has prevailed. We all have a kitchen at home, but we still love going out to restaurants.</p>
<p>Disney, Warner Bros and Australia’s own Birch Carrol and Coyle all celebrated 100 years of operation in 2023. To sustain another century, more research is needed to better understand how cinema-going must continue to evolve to meet shifting audience expectations.</p>
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Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/interactive-cinema-how-films-could-alter-plotlines-in-real-time-by-responding-to-viewers-emotions-200145">Interactive cinema: how films could alter plotlines in real time by responding to viewers' emotions</a>
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<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/222597/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ruari Elkington and Tess Van Hemert collaborated with Palace Cinemas (Palace Audience Survey) and Film Fantastic/Brisbane International Film Festival (2021 and 2022 BIFF industry reports). They were not funded by Palace Cinemas or Film Fantastic for this research.</span></em></p>
I have spent the last two years researching the cultures and practices of cinema-going. Here’s what people tell me.
Ruari Elkington, Senior Lecturer in Creative Industries & Chief Investigator at QUT Digital Media Research Centre (DMRC), Queensland University of Technology
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/222606
2024-03-15T05:07:18Z
2024-03-15T05:07:18Z
‘An exceptionally queasy atmosphere’: the unsettling new Aussie horror You’ll Never Find Me
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582118/original/file-20240315-20-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=142%2C11%2C7797%2C5249&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Credit Ian Routledge. Copyright Lot Film Pty Ltd</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>In the middle of the night, during a terrible thunderstorm, a sodden stranger knocks on Patrick’s door hoping to use a phone. Insomniac Patrick (Brendan Rock) is a paranoid, bearded loner who sits alone in his dimly-lit mobile home as if he is waiting for a dawn that may never come. The nameless, barefoot visitor (Jordan Cowan), a 20-something woman with long dark hair and haunted eyes, seems unsure if she’s stumbled across a saviour, or a predator. </p>
<p>This unexpected encounter opens the Australian psychological horror film You’ll Never Find Me, an unsettling and economical chamber piece that makes effective use of its limited location and its dialogue-heavy script.</p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/rJGFdGx-cjw?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<h2>Shifting identities</h2>
<p>We begin the film unsure about either character’s identity or motivations. “I’m afraid you’ve knocked on the wrong door,” drawls Patrick mournfully. </p>
<p>He shows the visitor initially reluctant but surprisingly tender hospitality and she is uncertain how to respond. At time drags on, Patrick demonstrates a deep willingness to wax lyrical about his take on life’s difficulties. “It’s nice to pass the time with a stranger,” he confesses. </p>
<p>As the storm knocks out the power, it’s unclear whether the visitor will be able to leave. It’s also obvious something more ominous and perhaps infernal is unfolding. </p>
<p>Directed by Josiah Allen and Indianna Bell, the film offers a gothic, moody ambience. The mobile home is isolated from others in the park. It presents a claustrophobic environment and comes to be a character in its own right: it creaks and groans like a ship riding the waves. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="A man sits at a table at the end of a hallway." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582119/original/file-20240315-22-dge1jl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582119/original/file-20240315-22-dge1jl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582119/original/file-20240315-22-dge1jl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582119/original/file-20240315-22-dge1jl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582119/original/file-20240315-22-dge1jl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582119/original/file-20240315-22-dge1jl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582119/original/file-20240315-22-dge1jl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The mobile home comes to be a character in its own right.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo Credit Maxx Corkindale. Copyright Lot Film Pty Ltd</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The shadowy space seems simultaneously too cramped and too spacious, as if everything is being slowly sucked into the strange, curtained-off section at the back of the home. Ratty 1970s décor aside, time does not seem to be passing in a legible manner, something emphasised through an unsettling string-heavy score and slow, invasive tracking shots.</p>
<p>Information is doled out carefully. The visitor finds odd mementos stashed around the house and is confused at her own inability to keep her story straight. Patrick picks anxiously at the edges of forgotten memories, repeatedly describing the night, and his recollections, as “strange”. </p>
<p>Is this all an insomniac’s drifting thoughts, or the pair’s subjective experience of mutual distrust and paranoia? Has the young woman come looking for Patrick, or has he somehow summoned her? </p>
<h2>A careful dance</h2>
<p>You’ll Never Find Me builds successfully on a “<a href="https://theconversation.com/10-years-of-homegrown-horror-hits-talk-to-me-and-the-golden-age-of-aussie-horror-211031">golden decade</a>” of Australian horror. </p>
<p>This period has showcased diverse innovative and internationally-acclaimed films, ranging from maternal horrors The Babadook (2014) and Relic (2020), to <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Found_footage_(film_technique)">found footage</a> 70s throwback Late Night with the Devil (2023) and runaway hit supernatural horror Talk to Me (2023). </p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/10-years-of-homegrown-horror-hits-talk-to-me-and-the-golden-age-of-aussie-horror-211031">10 years of homegrown horror hits: Talk To Me and the golden age of Aussie horror</a>
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<p>You’ll Never Find Me also illustrates the importance of an industry pipeline. Writer/director Bell and co-director Allen, as Stakeout Films, found earlier success with shorts Safe Space (2019), Call Connect. (2019) and The Recordist (2020), some of which also featured performances from Rock and Cowan. Each short plays across genres, featuring evocative soundscapes, moody lighting, tense relationships and claustrophobic settings. </p>
<p>These prior relationships are evident in the film’s confident tone and performances. Cowan and Rock have a compelling chemistry. Extreme close ups on their faces and bodies chart the film’s careful, slow-burn dance between threat and disclosure, or vulnerability and dread. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582121/original/file-20240315-24-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A bearded man" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582121/original/file-20240315-24-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582121/original/file-20240315-24-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582121/original/file-20240315-24-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582121/original/file-20240315-24-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582121/original/file-20240315-24-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582121/original/file-20240315-24-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582121/original/file-20240315-24-dr4lqu.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">At time it feels like we are watching a play.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo Credit Maxx Corkindale. Copyright Lot Film Pty Ltd</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The pair move through odd, circular conversations about their life philosophies and past experiences, as if we are watching a play. We’re aware we are witnessing a careful dance – but for a long time it is unclear who might be the biggest threat to whom. </p>
<p>“You’re the one who knocked on my door,” Patrick reminds the visitor, as she becomes increasingly insistent about wanting to leave. Throughout, he posits whether this visitation was a matter of choice or chance, even as the true and terrible nature of the pair’s encounter makes itself known.</p>
<p>You’ll Never Find Me will appeal to audiences who appreciate a rich atmosphere, character-led drama, and creeping yet tense pacing. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582123/original/file-20240315-28-wwqmdg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A woman's face, half in shadows." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582123/original/file-20240315-28-wwqmdg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/582123/original/file-20240315-28-wwqmdg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582123/original/file-20240315-28-wwqmdg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582123/original/file-20240315-28-wwqmdg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582123/original/file-20240315-28-wwqmdg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582123/original/file-20240315-28-wwqmdg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/582123/original/file-20240315-28-wwqmdg.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The film has a rich atmosphere, character-led drama, and creeping yet tense pacing.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Photo Credit Maxx Corkindale. Copyright Lot Film Pty Ltd</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>For its many strengths, though, the film may divide audiences with its chaotic, surreal final act. As the pair’s conflict comes to a head, the world of the film tilts in a lurid burst of colour, and the narrative doglegs into a conceit that is challenging to pull off. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2024/mar/14/youll-never-find-me-review-movie-australian-horror">Some may see</a> this climax as a fitting conclusion that upends some of our assumptions about character, relationships and motivation. Some, including myself, may find this nightmarish sequence, and the film’s denouement, displaces much of the film’s fine earlier work – particularly its manipulation of space and point-of-view – in a frustrating manner. </p>
<p>There is no doubt, though, this film exhibits a distinct sensibility, captivating performances and an exceptionally queasy atmosphere. It is further proof low-budget Australian horror is currently a site of significant innovation, and it successfully showcases Bell and Allen’s ability to do an awful lot with limited resources. </p>
<p><em>You’ll Never Find Me is out now in Australia and Aotearoa New Zealand.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/analog-uncanny-how-this-weird-and-experimental-side-of-tiktok-is-forging-the-future-of-horror-222882">‘Analog uncanny’: how this weird and experimental side of TikTok is forging the future of horror</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/222606/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Erin Harrington does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
For its many strengths, the film may divide audiences with its chaotic, surreal final act.
Erin Harrington, Senior Lecturer in English and Cultural Studies, University of Canterbury
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/224645
2024-03-12T02:54:00Z
2024-03-12T02:54:00Z
We studied two decades of queer representation on Australian TV, and found some interesting trends
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581139/original/file-20240312-18-9l4no.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=10%2C12%2C1353%2C754&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDB</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Television is experiencing a boom of queer representation, and Australian series are no exception. Our <a href="https://doi.org/10.1177/1329878X241236990">new study reveals</a> how trends in lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and nonbinary (gender and sexually diverse) scripted stories have developed onscreen over the 2000s and 2010s.</p>
<p>In the 1970s and ‘80s, Australia was considered relatively radical in its representations of gender and sexually diverse people. We’re <a href="https://doi.org/10.1177/1329878X19876330">credited with the first</a> positive portrayal of a gay man, Don Finlayson (Joe Hasham), in the soap opera Number 96 (1972–77). </p>
<p>We also portrayed the first lesbian kiss, between Vicki Stafford (Judy Nunn) and Felicity Baker (Helen Hemingway) in the pilot episode of The Box (1974–77), two weeks before the <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/culture/2016/jun/16/bbc-stream-1974-show-girl-alison-steadman-first-lesbian-kiss-uk-television-pride">UK’s first televised lesbian kiss</a>.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581142/original/file-20240312-18-z8htwz.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581142/original/file-20240312-18-z8htwz.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581142/original/file-20240312-18-z8htwz.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581142/original/file-20240312-18-z8htwz.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581142/original/file-20240312-18-z8htwz.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=387&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581142/original/file-20240312-18-z8htwz.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581142/original/file-20240312-18-z8htwz.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581142/original/file-20240312-18-z8htwz.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=486&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Australian TV drama The Box (1974) became the first in the world to show a lesbian kiss.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RRcY9GV7MI0&rco=1&ab_channel=kurvapicsa">Youtube</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>By the 1990s, queer character appearances shifted to predominantly once-off stories in medical and crime dramas. But things have changed substantially since then.</p>
<h2>Gay and bisexual men</h2>
<p>Between 2000 and 2019, Australian-scripted television represented gay men more regularly than bisexual men. Specifically, our research found 44 series featuring gay men and only three featuring bisexual men.</p>
<p>Similar to trends in US television <a href="http://applausebooks.com/books/9781557835574">throughout the 2000s</a>, many of these examples focused on characters “coming out” as gay – a popular storytelling device.</p>
<p>While bisexual coming-out narratives were rare, one notable exception was the character Sammy Lieberman (Thom Green) in Dance Academy (2010–13), who rejects labels others try to put on him.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581144/original/file-20240312-26-gtnqek.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581144/original/file-20240312-26-gtnqek.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581144/original/file-20240312-26-gtnqek.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=449&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581144/original/file-20240312-26-gtnqek.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=449&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581144/original/file-20240312-26-gtnqek.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=449&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581144/original/file-20240312-26-gtnqek.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=564&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581144/original/file-20240312-26-gtnqek.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=564&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581144/original/file-20240312-26-gtnqek.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=564&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Sammy Lieberman in ABC’s Dance Academy came out as bisexual.</span>
<span class="attribution"><a class="source" href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1551948/mediaindex?refine=nm2964015&ref_=tt_mv_close">IMDB</a></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Although we found a prominence of coming-out narratives, we also saw an increase in already out characters. Previously, gay and bisexual men were commonly written <a href="https://journals.sagepub.com/doi/pdf/10.1177/1329878X19876330">into one-off storylines</a> in which coming out seemed like the only available narrative. Now they’re often shown with complex lives and other sources of drama.</p>
<p>The <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Men-Caregiving-and-the-Media-The-Dad-Dilemma/Hunter-Riggs/p/book/9781032083759">avoidance of gay intimacy onscreen</a> remains prominent; we noted a tendency to use camera movements and cuts to avoid showing gay sex scenes. But some series are pushing these boundaries. For instance, season three of Please Like Me included a meaningful and critically acclaimed sex scene between Josh (Josh Thomas) and Arnold (Keegan Joyce).</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/with-moonlights-oscar-win-hollywood-begins-to-right-old-wrongs-73843">With Moonlight's Oscar win, Hollywood begins to right old wrongs</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Lesbian and bisexual women</h2>
<p>While there is a significant number of lesbian and bisexual women in Australian scripted television, they appear in fewer series overall compared with gay and bisexual men. Of a total 38 series, we found 32 with lesbians and 15 with bisexual women. Nine of the series included both.</p>
<p>Trends for lesbian and bisexual women often focus on characters who are assured of their sexuality, or who engage in temporary exploration as a “<a href="https://link.springer.com/book/10.1057/978-1-137-55598-4">passing phase</a>”. Coming-out narratives are rare for these women. </p>
<p>For example, Charlie Buckton (Esther Anderson) in Home and Away (1988–) temporarily explores attraction to out lesbian Joey Collins (Kate Bell). The relationship isn’t mentioned again after Joey is written out and Charlie returns to dating men.</p>
<p>Alongside this theme of temporary attraction is a troubling trend of unnamed bisexuality, wherein we identified bisexual women, but the bisexuality wasn’t clearly named. </p>
<p>That said, we do note instances where this is due to a resistance to labels. As Bridget (Libby Tanner) tells Bea (Danielle Cormack) in Wentworth (2013–21): “Fuck the labels.”</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581143/original/file-20240312-24-5zslsi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581143/original/file-20240312-24-5zslsi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/581143/original/file-20240312-24-5zslsi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581143/original/file-20240312-24-5zslsi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581143/original/file-20240312-24-5zslsi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581143/original/file-20240312-24-5zslsi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581143/original/file-20240312-24-5zslsi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/581143/original/file-20240312-24-5zslsi.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Prison drama Wentworth had several lesbian and bisexual woman characters.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDB</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>There are also several examples of lesbian and bisexual women raising families. In 2003, a two-part episode of Blue Heelers (1994–2006) focuses on a custody dispute between a lesbian couple and their sperm donor. These stories often incorporate themes of same-sex IVF and adoption, reflecting legal changes in Australia throughout the decades.</p>
<p>However, in All Saints (1998–2009), Charlotte Beaumont (Tammy Macintosh) – who is originally <a href="https://www.taylorfrancis.com/chapters/edit/10.4324/9781315876917-3/screening-dykes-oz-lesbian-representation-australian-television-rebecca-beirne">written as a lesbian and later rewritten as bisexual</a> – becomes pregnant after sleeping with a man.</p>
<h2>Transgender and non-binary people</h2>
<p>Until recently, and with rare exceptions, out gender-diverse characters have been largely invisible in Australian scripted television. </p>
<p>We found eight series with transgender women, three with transgender men, and one with a non-binary person. Within our study, only one of these characters appeared before 2010.</p>
<p>Most transgender storylines included some focus on self-identity, with the character either coming out or asserting their identity with others. Some stories also included romantic attraction, although almost all were in a heterosexual framing. One exception was Chris (Harvey Zielinski) in Starting From… Now (2014–16) – a trans man who is pansexual.</p>
<p>From 2018 onwards, all gender-diverse characters were portrayed by out actors who aligned with their identity. Before this, only Robyn Ross (Carlotta) in Number 96 and Chris in Starting From… Now were played by out transgender actors.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/A-uz9lroc8Q?wmode=transparent&start=30" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<h2>The emergence of queer story worlds</h2>
<p>Australian scripted television has moved away from representing solitary gay or lesbian figures, and towards more inclusive representations that portray queer characters belonging to a shared community. We found increasing instances of these characters appearing in regular, recurring and one-off stories in the same series. </p>
<p>We also found an increase in series that are set in queer story worlds. Outland (2012) was the first Australian series to feature an entirely gay and lesbian ensemble of characters. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/aSBZp2z0q9Q?wmode=transparent&start=22" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>Similarly, Starting From… Now is a web series that follows a group of lesbian women living in Sydney’s Newtown. The final two seasons were picked up by SBS in 2016 and, along with Wentworth, contribute significantly to the number of lesbian and bisexual women appearing onscreen. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/h2X4hZMZlMk?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>The queer story world has been featuring even more from 2020 onward, in particular through digital-first and pilot initiatives for talent from underrepresented communities. These initiatives are giving more opportunities to queer creatives, resulting in series such as Iggy & Ace 5eva (2021) and All My Friends Are Racist (2021).</p>
<p>The appearances of gender and sexually diverse stories in Australian television continue to change. We hope our research can provide a starting point for further analysis of these decades and those to come.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/peppa-pig-has-introduced-a-pair-of-lesbian-polar-bears-but-aussie-kids-tv-has-been-leading-the-way-in-queer-representation-190648">Peppa Pig has introduced a pair of lesbian polar bears, but Aussie kids’ TV has been leading the way in queer representation</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/224645/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>The authors do not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and have disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
From Dance Academy to Wentworth, Australian TV experienced a boom of queer representation over the 2000s and 2010s.
Damien O'Meara, PhD Candidate, Media and Communications, Swinburne University of Technology
Whitney Monaghan, Lecturer in Communications and Media Studies, Monash University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/222754
2024-02-21T01:23:39Z
2024-02-21T01:23:39Z
A small film asking big questions: The Rooster is a study of fragile, lonely masculinity
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/576361/original/file-20240219-22-54tww8.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=62%2C8%2C5928%2C3979&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sarah Enticknap/Bonsai Films</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>This review contains mentions of suicide.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>What does it mean to be alone? Who do you live for when it seems like you have no one? These are some of the big questions asked in The Rooster, a deceptively simple film from Mark Leonard Winter.</p>
<p>Before opening in cinemas this week, the film played at major film festivals in Adelaide, Melbourne and Brisbane in 2023 and Hugo Weaving recently <a href="https://if.com.au/talk-to-me-takes-home-best-film-at-aacta-awards-the-newsreader-crowned-best-drama/">won the best supporting AACTA</a> for his performance as the hermit. </p>
<p>Winter’s feature directorial debut, The Rooster is a study of fragile, lonely masculinity. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-zone-of-interest-new-holocaust-film-powerfully-lays-bare-the-mechanisms-of-genocide-222017">The Zone of Interest: new Holocaust film powerfully lays bare the mechanisms of genocide</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Guilt and devastation</h2>
<p>Dan (Phoenix Raei) is a lonely country copper, whose morning routine is spent feeding his angry rooster. The film opens in a disorienting fashion that indicates Dan’s own fragile mental state. Before any image is shown, the crackle of Dan’s radio is interspersed with the evening crickets. “Hello? Can you hear me? I am not sure what to do,” Dan speaks into his radio. “Can you repeat that please? I don’t understand. I don’t know what to do.” </p>
<p>The first image we see is of a hanged body swinging in the wind lit by the car’s lights. Dan, in his car, is visible only by his red and blue lights. Suddenly, he looks up. We see a naked woman walking towards the car holding his rooster. Dan wakes up in a fright.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/z_v9I6smU08?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>These opening images pose questions of Dan’s mental state for the audience. Who is this woman? Who is the hanged person?</p>
<p>The following day, Dan fails to follow police procedure when dealing with an incident. His childhood friend, Steve (Rhys Mitchell), is caught naked while spying on a girl’s netball team. The day after this, Steve is found dead in a shallow grave. While it is clear he committed suicide, this doesn’t explain the shallow grave. Dan’s superior (John Hughes) blames Dan for Steve’s death, as he failed to alert anyone over Steve’s risk for self-harm.</p>
<p>To make matters worse, Dan also discovers his much-loved rooster killed by a fox. Forced to take time off from work to process his guilt and devastation over Steve’s death, Dan retreats to the bush where Steve was found in search for answers. </p>
<h2>How to cope with loss</h2>
<p>Dan’s struggle to cope with this loss is depicted through the repeated nightmarish scenes of the bush, Steve clucking like a chicken and the naked woman holding his rooster.</p>
<p>While stumbling through the bush – its haunting beauty captured wonderfully by Craig Barden’s cinematography – Dan finds the hermit’s hut and spies the man having a bath through the window. The hermit initially threatens Dan and tries to drive him off. Dan, however, offers him a drink, which allows the two to have a conversation. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/576364/original/file-20240219-23-42nfsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Hugo Weaving in a dilapidated structure." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/576364/original/file-20240219-23-42nfsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/576364/original/file-20240219-23-42nfsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576364/original/file-20240219-23-42nfsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576364/original/file-20240219-23-42nfsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576364/original/file-20240219-23-42nfsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576364/original/file-20240219-23-42nfsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576364/original/file-20240219-23-42nfsl.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">While stumbling through the bush, Dan finds the hermit’s hut.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sarah Enticknap/Bonsai Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This informal tete-a-tete leads Dan to learn that the hermit was most likely the last person to see Steve alive. </p>
<p>In order to learn more about the hermit’s role in Steve’s death, the two must bond. Dan is introspective and shy; the hermit is prone to violent, angry outbursts. The two men drink heavily, play ping pong – sometimes naked – and help each other process their own hurt. </p>
<p>The film’s narrative is not driven by the investigation into Steve’s death. Rather, it is about two men learning how to cope with the loss in their lives. Through this friendship, both men learn how to share what has led them to being so isolated.</p>
<p>The Rooster is inconsistent in tone. Up until the moment where the two men meet, the film is slow and disorienting. Once the hermit confronts Dan for spying on him, the film kicks into gear, and the chemistry between the two men is the energy the film needs to progress.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/576365/original/file-20240219-20-sgszai.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Two men play ping-pong in the woods." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/576365/original/file-20240219-20-sgszai.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/576365/original/file-20240219-20-sgszai.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576365/original/file-20240219-20-sgszai.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576365/original/file-20240219-20-sgszai.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576365/original/file-20240219-20-sgszai.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576365/original/file-20240219-20-sgszai.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/576365/original/file-20240219-20-sgszai.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Rooster is about two men learning how to cope with the loss in their lives.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sarah Enticknap/Bonsai Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>For the most part, however, the balance of comedy and drama works. A heavy conversation about suicide quickly shifts, assisted by the two very different performances from Raei and Weaving. </p>
<p>“I can’t see myself in the future,” Dan says. “Your daughter, she’ll remember you. But when I’m gone, I’ll just be gone.” </p>
<p>“You won’t be gone,” the hermit replies. “You’ll be a fucking tree”. </p>
<p>This conversation on life’s failures and “ending things” quickly shifts into the hermit helping Dan release his feelings by crowing loudly like a rooster. A heavy conversation easily shifts into an absurd one.</p>
<p>The dynamics between both characters allows Raei and Weaving to excel in their performances. Winter primarily worked as an actor before this film, and this experience is evident in the space given to the two lead performers here, giving them extended moments to let their characters breathe. Capturing minute shifts in expression are key to Winter’s skill as a director.</p>
<p>The Rooster may be a small character study of two fragile men, but it’s a powerful examination of isolation and moving on. </p>
<p><em>The Rooster is in Australian cinemas from tomorrow.</em></p>
<hr>
<p><em>If this article has raised issues for you, or if you’re concerned about someone you know, call Lifeline on 13 11 14.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/all-of-us-strangers-heartbreaking-film-speaks-to-real-experiences-of-gay-men-in-uk-and-ireland-222628">All of Us Strangers: heartbreaking film speaks to real experiences of gay men in UK and Ireland</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/222754/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Stuart Richards does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
New Australian film The Rooster is a small character study of two fragile men, and a powerful examination of isolation and moving on.
Stuart Richards, Senior Lecturer in Screen Studies, University of South Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/222879
2024-02-12T02:26:17Z
2024-02-12T02:26:17Z
New Aussie rom-com Five Blind Dates could become your next comfort watch
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/574524/original/file-20240208-16-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C5991%2C3988&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Prime Video</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>A good romantic comedy balances two things: expectations and questions.</p>
<p>We all have expectations of a rom-com. There’s the obvious one – the central couple will wind up together in the end – but there are plenty of other familiar elements that recur in this genre: the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Meet_cute">meet-cute</a>, the not-that-realistic-but-sure-we’ll-go-with-it premise, the wacky best friend, the other (wrong) potential love interests, the makeover, the grand gesture, the declaration of love. </p>
<p>What gives the rom-com energy, though, are the questions. Yes, we know the couple are going to end up together, but how are they going to get there? We know our plucky protagonist will probably extricate herself from the sticky situation she’s in, but how will she do it? We know these other suitors are all wrong for her, when and how is she going to realise?</p>
<p>Five Blind Dates doesn’t quite have the balance of expectations and questions right. It hits all the expectations – indeed, there are so many classic rom-com moments in here you could definitely win rom-com bingo – but sometimes telegraphs the answers to the questions a bit too hard. </p>
<p>This said, though, the balance is only a little off, not a lot. The end result is a lovely film, one I could see becoming a comfort watch for a lot of people – it’s as warm and familiar as the cups of tea purveyed by its heroine.</p>
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<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/you-cant-have-a-hollywood-meet-cute-on-a-dating-app-but-is-that-such-a-bad-thing-153454">You can't have a Hollywood meet cute on a dating app — but is that such a bad thing?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>In search of a soulmate</h2>
<p>Lia (Shuang Hu, also the co-writer) has used her inheritance from her grandmother to open a traditional Chinese tea shop in Sydney, where she employs her best friend Mason (Ilai Swindells). Unfortunately, her business is failing, and she a) has no idea how to save it, and b) is dreading telling her family.</p>
<p>It would normally be easy to avoid her family, because they live in Townsville. However, her sister Alice (Tiffany Wong) is getting married and Lia is the maid of honour, which means a great deal more contact than usual. </p>
<p>The film’s premise is established very quickly when, at one of the pre-wedding events, Lia is told by a fortune teller she will meet her soulmate on one of the next five dates she goes on. And then, when she re-encounters her ex-boyfriend Richard (Yoson An) at Alice’s engagement party, Lia ends up on a mission to go on these five dates as fast as possible so she can bring her soulmate to the wedding – and thus show up Richard, who is the best man.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/574527/original/file-20240208-24-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A date at the beach." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/574527/original/file-20240208-24-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/574527/original/file-20240208-24-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574527/original/file-20240208-24-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574527/original/file-20240208-24-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574527/original/file-20240208-24-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574527/original/file-20240208-24-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574527/original/file-20240208-24-yyrxk1.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Lia ends up on a mission to go on five dates as fast as possible.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Prime Video</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This beginning section of the film is perhaps its shakiest. It contains quite a lot of exposition very quickly – some of which, if you miss, could make later sections a bit confusing. While Lia and Richard’s re-meet-cute is very sweet, it makes it very clear just which way this is going to go.</p>
<p>The film also doesn’t give us much insight into why Lia and Richard broke up in the first place. While this is revealed slowly over the course of the film, this is very important when it comes to the audience having confidence in a second-chance romance: if it didn’t work out the first time, why would it work out now?</p>
<p>Without this information, we don’t have a great sense of Richard as a person, which makes his characterisation for the first half or so of the film feel a bit thin.</p>
<p>By contrast, though, the first three men Lia meets as part of her dating project are beautifully drawn. Sometimes, in romantic comedies, the premise is sacrificed on the altar of the romance and alternative suitors are one-dimensional, possibly villainous caricatures. </p>
<p>Here, though, Lia’s other options are refreshingly and fascinatingly human. There’s Apollo (Desmond Chiam), the very wealthy businessman her dad (Tzi Ma) has set her up with. There’s Ezra (Jon Prasida), the Chinese language school-teacher her mum (Renee Lim) has set her up with. And then there’s Curtis (Rob Collins), the touchy-feely yoga teacher Alice introduces her to – a character who could easily have become a Byron Bay stereotype but who is given nuance through both writing and performance. </p>
<h2>A refreshing film</h2>
<p>Mixed in with Lia’s many dates is her anxiety about her failing tea business. The way this problem is resolved is another one of the things the film telegraphs a bit too hard; however, it’s also very funny, which mitigates this somewhat.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/574529/original/file-20240208-22-yp2yfo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A date in a bar." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/574529/original/file-20240208-22-yp2yfo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/574529/original/file-20240208-22-yp2yfo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574529/original/file-20240208-22-yp2yfo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574529/original/file-20240208-22-yp2yfo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574529/original/file-20240208-22-yp2yfo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574529/original/file-20240208-22-yp2yfo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/574529/original/file-20240208-22-yp2yfo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">While there is nothing particularly surprising in Five Blind Dates, it is nevertheless a really refreshing film.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Prime Video</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>While there is nothing particularly surprising in Five Blind Dates, it is nevertheless a really refreshing film. We don’t have a lot of rom-coms set in Australia, much less ones which centre on Chinese Australian characters. It’s a playful, joyful film with a likeable and layered heroine which doesn’t outstay its welcome (it clocks in at under 90 minutes).</p>
<p>If there was to be a follow-up about some of the other characters, you could sign me right up. I, for one, would be fascinated to see what Apollo Wang does next. </p>
<p><em>Five Blind Dates is on Prime Video from tomorrow.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/how-to-make-a-perfect-romcom-an-expert-explains-the-recipe-for-romance-212487">How to make a perfect romcom – an expert explains the recipe for romance</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/222879/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Jodi McAlister does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
While there is nothing particularly surprising in Five Blind Dates, it is nevertheless a really refreshing film.
Jodi McAlister, Senior Lecturer in Writing, Literature and Culture, Deakin University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/218420
2023-12-18T19:09:13Z
2023-12-18T19:09:13Z
Alvin Purple at 50: how ‘boobs and pubes’ led Australian screen’s sexual (and sexist) revolution
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/564768/original/file-20231211-23-3bb3il.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=4%2C0%2C954%2C538&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Umbrella Entertainment</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Fifty years ago this week, the first blockbuster of the Australian new wave hit Australian cinemas. Directed by Tim Burstall and starring Graeme Blundell, Alvin Purple was a bawdy sex comedy about an unprepossessing young man who was irresistible to women.</p>
<p>It was a hit, screening for months after its release. A sequel, Alvin Rides Again, quickly followed in 1974, and a short-lived television series aired in 1976.</p>
<p>However, the jiggling flesh and bed-hopping antics of Alvin Purple were probably not what Australian politicians had in mind when they devised policies to create a local film industry in the late 1960s. </p>
<h2>A wave of new nationalism</h2>
<p>In the wake of global political and economic shifts, including the United Kingdom’s decision to <a href="https://www.historyextra.com/period/20th-century/1973-uk-joined-european-economic-community-eec-when-why/">join the European Common Market in 1973</a>, Australia undertook a reevaluation of its national identity. Intellectuals and politicians believed culture, and film in particular, could foster this process and promote Australia to the world in an era of “new nationalism”. </p>
<p>The Holt and Gorton Liberal governments established the Australian Council for the Arts <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/106980333">in 1967</a> and the Australian Film Development Corporation (AFDC) <a href="https://aso.gov.au/chronology/1970s/">in 1970</a>. </p>
<p>This embrace of government support for the arts was new. Government funding expanded the national significance and box office reach of Australian cinema. The Australian Film Development Corporation was encouraged to back popular, rather than arthouse films, with the aim of growing a commercially viable film industry. </p>
<p>The impact of this investment was quickly felt: while just 17 feature films were made in Australia in the 1960s, more than <a href="https://nla.gov.au/nla.cat-vn3888358">150 were made in the 1970s</a>. </p>
<p>Alvin Purple was the first big hit of this new era in Australian film, a standard-bearer of the new nationalism. As with so many images of Australian identity, such as the Anzac and the bushman, the new nationalism was represented by a white bloke: in this case, the Ocker. The Ocker was keen on colourful language, beer and women, in that order. </p>
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<p>The Ocker was crucial to the new film industry, just as he had been the new radical Australian theatre of the late 1960s. Many of those involved in theatre would go on to shape Australian film, including Burstall and Blundell. </p>
<p>Australia’s <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/culture/movies/from-the-archives-1970-the-dawn-of-the-r-rated-film-in-australia-20200907-p55t9r.html">new cinema classification system</a> – which replaced the older system of strict censorship – was the second key ingredient in Australian cinema’s new wave. The Ocker films were almost all bawdy comedies which took advantage of the new R rating for films introduced in 1971. Alvin Purple’s abundant nudity – what one reviewer described as “<a href="http://nla.gov.au/nla.news-page15958441">boobs and pubes</a>” – was one of the reasons it became a hit. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/paul-hogan-and-the-myth-of-the-white-aussie-bloke-124281">Paul Hogan and the myth of the white Aussie bloke</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>An Aussie sex comedy</h2>
<p>In making Alvin Purple, Tim Burstall <a href="https://archivesonline.uow.edu.au/nodes/view/5011">wanted to create</a> “a sex comedy with […] purely Australian ingredients”.</p>
<p>Alvin Purple is indeed an Australian sex comedy but the joke is on Alvin: despite his view sex is “overrated”, he is bewilderingly irresistible to women of all ages, from screaming schoolgirls to the wife of his school principal, to the psychologist he sees in a bid to avoid sex. </p>
<p>To a generation of Australians raised on The Benny Hill Show (as I was), Alvin Purple looks like just another 70s sex comedy. It was as unpopular with critics as it was a hit with Australian audiences. But dig a little deeper and we can see how the film not only responded to the rise of the women’s movement, but also how it became a touchstone for feminists who were outraged by Australia’s sexist culture.</p>
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<p>The central conceit of Alvin Purple – that he is an average bloke who is utterly irresistible to women – was an appealing male fantasy in an era of sexual liberation. Almost every female character in the film wants to have sex with Alvin. Director Burstall admitted to Cleo magazine in 1975 that Alvin Purple was a fantasy, “and if you want to get heavy, a male chauvinist fantasy”. </p>
<p>In the film’s opening scene, Alvin is riding a tram and, looking around at the alluringly dressed female passengers, complains: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>How can you keep your mind off [sex] when it’s being flung at you every moment of the day? </p>
</blockquote>
<p>Indeed, the women around him seem to invite his objectifying gaze: one woman wears a t-shirt reading “women should be obscene and not heard”, and Alvin fantasises about ripping another woman’s shirt open to expose her bare breasts. The film conflated the sexual revolution with women’s liberation.</p>
<p>For some Australian feminists, Alvin Purple was a symbol of Australian sexism. In 1974, two feminist protesters <a href="https://doi.org/10.1080/14443058.2022.2045621">picketed the set</a> of Burstall’s next film with placards reading “smash sexist movies” and “Burstall sexist shit”. </p>
<p>Sandra Hall, reviewing the film for <a href="http://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-1335338764">The Bulletin</a> described it as</p>
<blockquote>
<p>cheerfully sexist […] there is flesh everywhere but the motivations are made of cardboard and the women are universally stupid.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>In spite of, or perhaps because of this, Alvin Purple remains one of Australia’s highest-grossing films of all time. It is one of only three films made in the 1970s to make it into Screen Australia’s <a href="https://www.screenaustralia.gov.au/fact-finders/cinema/australian-films/feature-film-releases/top-australian-films">list of 100 top grossing local films</a>. </p>
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<p>Alvin Purple demonstrated Australians were ready to embrace local stories on their cinema screens. But the film’s legacy is complicated by its thin and stereotypical representation of women. </p>
<p>We cannot simply write the film’s sexism off as a product of a different time when women were criticising it for that very reason when it was released. Alvin still placed men at the centre of Australian stories, and that’s something we’re still wrestling with, 50 years on.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/dons-party-at-50-an-achingly-real-portrayal-of-the-hapless-australian-middle-class-voter-165609">Don’s Party at 50: an achingly real portrayal of the hapless Australian middle-class voter</a>
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</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/218420/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Michelle Arrow receives funding from The Australian Research Council.</span></em></p>
Alvin Purple is a bawdy sex comedy about an unprepossessing young man who was irresistible to women – probably not what politicians had in mind when they supported a local film industry.
Michelle Arrow, Professor of History, Macquarie University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/213646
2023-11-09T19:09:35Z
2023-11-09T19:09:35Z
5 Aussie musicals you might not have heard of – but really should see
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/549255/original/file-20230920-29-ybhlcd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=4%2C2%2C1433%2C894&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Gillian Armstrong's Starstruck (1982) </span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDB</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>When you think of great Aussie musicals, some key films from the 1990s and 2000s come to mind: Strictly Ballroom, Muriel’s Wedding, Moulin Rouge!, Bran Nue Dae and The Sapphires. These films are often framed as “reviving” the musical genre for Australian audiences, due in large part to their box-office success. </p>
<p>While certainly fantastic films, there is actually a long history of Aussie musicals that have been popular with cinema audiences since the 1930s. </p>
<p>There are 73 films that have been classified as a “musical” or containing musical elements by the National Film and Sound Archive. They include comedies, children’s and animated films, dramas, revues, <a href="https://www.classicmoviehub.com/blog/movie-musicals-101-integrated-vs-backstage-2/">backstage musicals</a>, biopics, dance films, rock musicals, soundtrack films, television musicals and live concert films.</p>
<p>So where to begin? These are my top five Aussie musicals you may not have heard of but should definitely try to see. </p>
<p>These films represent just a snapshot of the rich history of musical cinema in Australia. They demonstrate how Australian cinema responds to international trends in musical cinema production, but also how it influences and innovates in the global musical genre.</p>
<p>These films are hard to get a hold of and only occasionally pop up on streaming services – if at all. However, you might catch them on DVD or at your local indie film festival or retrospective (there were several screenings of Starstruck when the NFSA released a digitally restored version in 2015). </p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/beyond-la-la-land-the-top-ten-toe-tapping-film-musicals-71149">Beyond La La Land: the top ten toe-tapping film musicals</a>
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</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>1. Funny Things Happen Down Under</h2>
<p>Olivia Newton-John’s 1965 debut feature, Funny Things Happen Down Under, directed by Joe McCormick, was an adaptation of the Terrible Ten children’s television show from 1959–60. </p>
<p>It’s Christmas time in the bush and a group of country children make a plan to save their woolshed, under threat because the sheep station has to be sold. </p>
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<p>After they accidentally turn a goat’s wool multi-coloured because it drinks a strange concoction of Christmas pudding, flowers and fizzy water, they decide to feed it to the sheep to sell rainbow-coloured wool. </p>
<p>While certainly of its time (there is a scene that involves yellow face), the film has some great songs by Newton-John and New Zealand singer Howard Morrison, as well as an athletic final dance number around the shed called Click Go the Shears.</p>
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<h2>2. Oz</h2>
<p>Directed by Chris Lofven, the 1976 film Oz (also known as Oz: A Rock ‘n’ Roll Road Movie, or 20th Century Oz on its release in the United States) is a version of The Wizard of Oz as a rock ‘n’ roll road movie set in the Australian outback. </p>
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<p>Dorothy (Joy Dunstan) is hitchhiking to the city to see glam rocker The Wizard. Along the way she meets brainless surfie (Bruce “Stork” Spence) – the scarecrow – a mean mechanic (Michael Carman) – the tin man – and an overly confident bikie (Gary Waddell) – the lion. </p>
<p>Ross Wilson, the frontman of Daddy Cool and Mondo Rock, wrote and produced Oz’s musical score. The singles <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DAcL8jfmENo">Livin’ in the Land of Oz</a> by Wilson and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kSgbiQQe4MM">Beating Around the Bush</a> by Jo Jo Zep and the Falcons were both released in 1976 from the soundtrack. </p>
<p>Much like motorcycle road movie Easy Rider (1970), which had become a symbol of <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/New_Hollywood">New Hollywood</a>, Oz made a direct appeal to young audiences and the counterculture via a compilation soundtrack of contemporary popular music. </p>
<h2>3. Starstruck</h2>
<p>Gillian Armstrong’s Starstruck (1982) is a backstage musical set in 1980s Sydney. Barmaid Jackie (Jo Kennedy) lives above her family pub The Harbour View Hotel in The Rocks in Sydney with her mum, Nanna, cousin Angus and their pet cockatoo. </p>
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<p>Jackie dreams of being a star, falls for a guitarist and joins a band called The Wombats so they can enter a TV talent competition. </p>
<p>Cue numerous musical numbers including <a href="https://www.nfsa.gov.au/collection/curated/starstruck-body-and-soul">Body and Soul</a>, where Jackie dances on the bar, and an <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TjeCbzLQ4-c">eventual performance</a> at the Opera House after the band sneak on stage. </p>
<p>There’s also a fabulously camp <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/stage/2017/mar/23/busby-berkeley-dance-42nd-street-choreography-film-musicals">Busby Berkeley</a>-eque rooftop swimming pool number complete with co-ordinated lifeguards in speedos.</p>
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<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/screen-australia-celebrates-its-work-in-gender-equality-but-things-are-far-from-equal-122266">Screen Australia celebrates its work in gender equality but things are far from equal</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>4. Dogs in Space</h2>
<p>Rather than a traditional musical, Richard Lowenstein’s Dogs in Space (1986) is set in the underground punk scene in late 1970s Melbourne. It follows rocker Sammy (played by Aussie icon Michael Hutchence) through performing, partying, falling in love – and taking lots and lots of drugs. </p>
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<p>The film has some amazing cinematography with winding long takes of the cast at their crammed inner-city terrace house as it gets progressively trashed by party after party. </p>
<p>Sammy’s love story with girlfriend Anna (Saskia Post) ends in tragedy and the final song, Rooms for the Memory, effectively uses Hutchence’s brooding star presence and vocals to great effect.</p>
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<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-dogs-in-space-30-years-on-a-once-maligned-film-comes-of-age-56288">Friday essay: Dogs in Space, 30 years on – a once maligned film comes of age</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>5. One Night the Moon</h2>
<p>Based on true events from 1932, One Night the Moon (2001), written by First Nations director Rachel Perkins, features Aussie singer-songwriter Paul Kelly as the father of a girl (played by Memphis Kelly, his real daughter) who goes missing in the outback. </p>
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<p>The girl’s mother (played by Kelly’s then wife and Memphis’ mother, Kaarin Fairfax) wants to employ an Aboriginal tracker (Kelton Pell) to help find the girl. Her father refuses, thus sealing the fate of his daughter through his prejudice. </p>
<p>With haunting songwriting and sweeping shots of the unforgiving landscape, this is a beautiful and moving story. </p>
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<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Phoebe Macrossan received funding from the University of the Sunshine Coast and assistance from the National Film and Sound Archive and the Australian Film Institute Research Collection for this research.</span></em></p>
There is a long history of musicals in Australia, popular with audiences since the 1930s.
Phoebe Macrossan, Lecturer in Screen Media, University of the Sunshine Coast
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/212535
2023-10-04T19:04:43Z
2023-10-04T19:04:43Z
Shayda: this unflinching portrayal of domestic violence marks a profound shift in Australian cinema
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/548938/original/file-20230919-15-c8841p.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=6%2C12%2C4083%2C2716&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jane Zhang/Madman Entertainment</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Australian cinema has often struggled to authentically portray the cultural lives of Middle Eastern Australians. Stereotypical stories frequently sidestep the intricacies of social bonds, as well as the cultural differences in domestic life and familial attachment. </p>
<p>Noora Niasari’s Shayda refreshingly challenges this trend. </p>
<p>Shayda is a powerful debut feature for the Iranian-Australian filmmaker, in a worldly film which marks a profound shift in Australian storytelling and Australian cinema. </p>
<p>The film avoids common Australian film tropes, steering clear of clichéd Aussie humour, traditional Australian archetypes like pristine beaches, the gothic outback and heroic male personas. Additionally, it refrains from marginalising the Middle Eastern characters. </p>
<p>It presents an unflinching portrayal of domestic violence and the grim reality of an Iranian woman trapped in an oppressive marriage. </p>
<p>Zar Amir Ebrahimi delivers a remarkable performance, embodying Shayda’s vulnerability, strength and inner turmoil, immersing the audience in her world of yearning and pain. </p>
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<h2>Hushed conversations and mounting tension</h2>
<p>Shayda is living in Australia, in an unspecified city, with her husband, Hossein (Osamah Sami), and their six-year-old daughter, Mona (Selina Zahednia). She had previously tried to divorce her husband in Iran; now she seeks refuge in a women’s shelter in Australia.</p>
<p>Beautifully directed domestic scenes between mother and daughter show Shayda striving to provide Mona with some stability. But when a judge grants visitation rights to Hossein he re-enters their lives, reigniting Shayda’s fears he may attempt to take Mona back to Iran.</p>
<p>From the moment the film begins, a looming threat of child abduction keeps us on edge. This tension only intensifies with each seemingly ordinary scene, such as Mona having McDonald’s with her father in a suburban food court. His sly attempts to gather information about his wife betray his deep love for his child. </p>
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<span class="caption">Shayda strives to provide Mona with some stability.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jane Zhang/Madman Entertainment</span></span>
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<p>The women’s shelter is run by the formidable and compassionate Joyce, played masterfully by Leah Purcell. A particularly poignant scene unfolds as Joyce helps Shayda complete her divorce forms in English with the aid of an interpreter. Through this bilingual exchange, we gain insight into the extent of her husband’s violence. Such scenes are rich with information, unravelling gradually through hushed conversations and mounting tension. </p>
<h2>Shame and loss</h2>
<p>We slowly learn about Shayda and Hossein’s journey from Tehran to Australia for education. However, Hossein’s connections prevent Shayda from pursuing her own studies, with her study visa mysteriously halted.</p>
<p>Now, Hossein wants his family back together. He promises Shayda more freedom. But his desire for reconciliation is driven more by jealousy and shame than love. </p>
<p>Shame is the underlying theme of the film. Both Shayda and Hossein are ensnared by cultural and religious expectations. While Hossein blindly adheres to the social contract of a violent patriarchy, Shayda courageously defies societal norms. </p>
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<span class="caption">Hossein’s desire for reconciliation is driven more by jealousy and shame than love.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jane Zhang/Madman Entertainment</span></span>
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<p>During a phone call with her mother in Tehran, Shayda learns of the shame her family endures due to her defiant actions.</p>
<p>The film also delves into themes of loss, both of one’s homeland and familial ties left behind. </p>
<p>One of the film’s most compelling aspects is its timeliness. Shayda serves as a testament to the enduring strength of Iranian women fighting for their basic rights, resonating powerfully against the backdrop of the ongoing women’s revolution in Iran.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/not-powerless-victims-how-young-iranian-women-have-long-led-a-quiet-revolution-192188">Not 'powerless victims': how young Iranian women have long led a quiet revolution</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Hope and rejuvenation</h2>
<p>The film abounds with details that enrich the narrative. Moments like mother and daughter playfully performing television aerobics eloquently convey Shayda’s deep connection with her daughter. </p>
<p>As Nowruz, the Persian New Year, approaches, Shayda tries to celebrate with her daughter and her friends while confronting the prospect of new romance and unrestricted freedoms. The palpable chemistry between Shayda and her Iranian-Canadian love interest, Farhad (Mojean Aria), unfolds against the backdrop of cultural disparities and the violence of Hossein, which threatens to sever their connection. </p>
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<span class="caption">The film beautifully captures the essence of Nowruz as a symbol of hope and rejuvenation.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Jane Zhang/Madman Entertainment</span></span>
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<p>A haircut scene holds profound significance as Shayda chops off her hair in a desperate bid for freedom, symbolising a new beginning and the arrival of Nowruz. Shayda’s gift to Mona of a goldfish becomes a symbol of hope. The sprouting of seeds on the window sill and the preparation of Persian food and sweets reflect the migrants’ connection to their homelands. These scenes beautifully capture the essence of Nowruz. </p>
<p>The film subtly unveils the harsh reality of domestic violence amid migration and cultural difference through minimal dialogue and nuanced storytelling. Drawing from the filmmaker’s personal experiences, Niasari’s sensitive direction reveals layers of Shayda’s character and story, making her both relatable and magnetic. </p>
<p>Sherwin Akbarzadeh’s cinematography is breathtaking, juxtaposing the suburban Australian landscape with the sombre tones of a dimly lit domestic interior. Subtle hints of colour and closeup shots of household objects immerse us in the daily life within the women’s shelter.</p>
<p>The supporting cast delivers robust performances, infusing the narrative with authenticity and emotion.</p>
<p>For those tempted to leave the cinema before the credits roll, don’t. The inclusion of scenes from the director’s home videos, featuring a young girl who appears to be the director herself dancing in the living room of the women’s shelter while her mother talks candidly to the camera, reinforces the film’s intensity with the affecting resonances of a documentary. </p>
<p>Niasari’s dedication to her mother and all the courageous women of Iran permeates every frame of this film. </p>
<p><em>Shayda is in cinemas from today.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/how-photography-can-reveal-overlook-and-manipulate-truth-the-fearless-work-of-australian-iranian-artist-hoda-afshar-211994">How photography can reveal, overlook and manipulate truth: the fearless work of Australian Iranian artist Hoda Afshar</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/212535/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Cherine Fahd does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Shayda is a powerful debut feature for Iranian-Australian filmmaker Noora Niasari.
Cherine Fahd, Associate Professor Visual Communication, University of Technology Sydney
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/207626
2023-06-27T20:06:14Z
2023-06-27T20:06:14Z
Run Rabbit Run isn’t excessively bad – just earnest, heavy-handed and predictable
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533973/original/file-20230626-27-m6ps6o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=26%2C8%2C5964%2C3359&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">© Sarah Enticknap/Netflix</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Dating back to the 1930s – <a href="https://www.nyfa.edu/student-resources/how-horror-movies-have-changed-since-their-beginning/">earlier, even</a> – horror cinema has been socially and politically conscious, interrogating taboos around gender, sex, class and race along with the borders between states like pro- and anti-social. </p>
<p>But it’s only been in the last 10 years or so that horror films – a <a href="https://www.screenhub.com.au/news/opinions-analysis/horror-films-in-the-age-of-covid-how-the-pandemic-caused-a-boom-2611752/">booming genre</a> following the success of Midsommar (2019) and Get Out (2017) – have started privileging telling rather than showing, didactically explaining themselves to the viewer as though we haven’t always already gotten it. </p>
<p>Horror films once managed to seamlessly integrate cultural commentary into their visceral effect. We could watch films like Wes Craven’s The Last House on the Left (1972) and be horrified yet intrigued by its critical commentary on American counterculture. </p>
<p>The most distinctive thing about the films of the current horror cycle is their lack of subtlety. It’s not enough that a film implies a kind of critical social position. A character now has to explicitly state this.</p>
<p>This kind of new sincerity has been sapping the genre of its fun. </p>
<p>Run Rabbit Run, following a mother and daughter as the past comes back to haunt them, is the latest Australian film to jump on the bandwagon of the new wave of horror.</p>
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<p>The psychological terrain of the guilty mother is typical narrative fare, but, unlike Jennifer Kent’s brilliant The Babadook (2014), Run Rabbit Run doesn’t take any of this in surprising or invigorating directions. </p>
<p>The film fits into the kind of “self-help” horror mode, using the same cliches about trauma and <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-rise-of-pop-psychology-can-it-make-your-life-better-or-is-it-all-snake-oil-158709">psychology as self-help</a>, presented in a neat package for the consumer.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-rise-of-pop-psychology-can-it-make-your-life-better-or-is-it-all-snake-oil-158709">The rise of pop-psychology: can it make your life better, or is it all snake-oil?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>No escape</h2>
<p>Fertility doctor Sarah (Sarah Snook) and her young daughter Mia (Lily LaTorre) live alone. </p>
<p>When Mia begins showing an interest in her family’s secret history, the ghosts of the past – involving Sarah’s mysterious sister Alice (D'Arcy Carty) and mother, Joan (Greta Scacchi), now confined to some kind of institution (nursing home? asylum?) – begin to materialise in the present in classic gothic fashion. </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533976/original/file-20230626-24-xgl2o6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Mother and daughter in a kitchen." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533976/original/file-20230626-24-xgl2o6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533976/original/file-20230626-24-xgl2o6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533976/original/file-20230626-24-xgl2o6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533976/original/file-20230626-24-xgl2o6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533976/original/file-20230626-24-xgl2o6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533976/original/file-20230626-24-xgl2o6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533976/original/file-20230626-24-xgl2o6.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">The psychological terrain of the guilty mother is typical narrative fare.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© Sarah Enticknap/Netflix</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The more the daughter reaches out to her mum in the hope of understanding her family, the more dysfunctional their relationship becomes. The scares become more frequent, and the whole thing culminates with a revelation so obvious (I had picked it at the 30-minute mark) one wonders if it was meant to be a revelation at all. </p>
<p>In trite fashion, the film’s closing moments show for Sarah, no matter how fast she runs, there’s no escaping her past. </p>
<h2>Predictable cues and gothic cliches</h2>
<p>This is TV director <a href="https://www.imdb.com/name/nm0717225">Daina Reid</a>’s first feature film, so it makes sense it would be released by Netflix, whose films always feel more suited to the television than cinema screen. </p>
<p>Run Rabbit Run looks like a made-for-Netflix movie, with the usual lack of depth in the image and excessive sharpness that tend to define the films the company produces or distributes. </p>
<p>It follows some of the predictable visual cues of horror in the Instagram-era: muted, washed-out colours; a score favouring drone sounds; a plethora of slow-moving tracking shots and spooky silhouettes.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533974/original/file-20230626-17-41e5op.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A girl runs down a hallway." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533974/original/file-20230626-17-41e5op.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533974/original/file-20230626-17-41e5op.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533974/original/file-20230626-17-41e5op.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533974/original/file-20230626-17-41e5op.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533974/original/file-20230626-17-41e5op.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533974/original/file-20230626-17-41e5op.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533974/original/file-20230626-17-41e5op.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Spooky silhouettes: a hallmark of the Instagram-era horror film.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© Sarah Enticknap/Netflix</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The narrative is replete with gothic cliches. Dream and reality start to mirror each other; there’s a weird kid; the ordinary and familiar become increasingly strange. </p>
<p>Run Rabbit Run very much functions as a kind of bourgeois horror film. We watch affluent people unable to cope with the realities of middle-class life, with the usual hangups. </p>
<p>It is most effective in its capacity to tap into some of the weirdness of being a parent, capturing the anarchic impulse of kids. This is the guiding theme of the film: the estrangement of the parent from the young child.</p>
<p>Your child, you inevitably discover, is not only not you, but also forever watching, critical, and in tension with you. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/films-made-for-netflix-look-more-like-tv-shows-heres-the-technical-reason-why-160259">Films made for Netflix look more like TV shows — here's the technical reason why</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>A visceral medium</h2>
<p>There’s nothing excessively bad about Run Rabbit Run. It’s a watchable psychological horror film with some genuinely arresting moments, but it suffers from the current earnestness running through so much contemporary popular culture. </p>
<p>It seems to approach its – let’s face it, totally ludicrous – ghost story with the seriousness of a Bergman film. The result is something that feels both lightweight and unpleasurable. </p>
<p>It uses silly cliches and caricatures from the tired annals of pop psychology, but the absolute seriousness of its tone saps these cliches of their potential to generate pleasure for the viewer (which, after all, is why we see genre films).</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533977/original/file-20230626-27-1gwq8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A girl in a rabbit mask." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533977/original/file-20230626-27-1gwq8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/533977/original/file-20230626-27-1gwq8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533977/original/file-20230626-27-1gwq8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533977/original/file-20230626-27-1gwq8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533977/original/file-20230626-27-1gwq8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533977/original/file-20230626-27-1gwq8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/533977/original/file-20230626-27-1gwq8z.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Film is a visceral medium – but Run Rabbit Rub is sapped of visceral pleasure.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">© Sarah Enticknap/Netflix</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Film is a visceral medium; horror film more than most. The heavy-handed tone of Run Rabbit Run exhausts it of visceral impact. We are left with an object that simply does not move us very much. </p>
<p>Trauma from the past re-emerging in the present has always been an operative force underlying the Gothic, but in the best works it’s not literalised in the form of a petty individual trauma. It is integrated into the very substance of character and community, rather than reduced to the psychology of a single character. </p>
<p>The “trauma” in Run Rabbit Run – while significant for the characters – doesn’t connect to any more meaningful cultural or historical moment. With nothing left unsaid, any ambiguous complexity of character is absent. </p>
<p>The tendency of the new wave of horror is to have everything on the surface. In the social media age everything has become tell, tell, tell. I guess it’s no surprise horror films follow this path. Yawn. </p>
<p><em>Run Rabbit Run is on Netflix from today.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-true-horror-movies-are-about-more-than-things-going-bump-in-the-night-104278">Why true horror movies are about more than things going bump in the night</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/207626/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ari Mattes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The new sincerity of horror has been sapping the genre of its fun. Netflix’s newest Australian offering is just the latest victim.
Ari Mattes, Lecturer in Communications and Media, University of Notre Dame Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/194057
2022-11-30T19:09:42Z
2022-11-30T19:09:42Z
Am I ever gonna see your face again? Nuanced and thoughtful, Kickin’ Down the Door puts The Angels back in the spotlight
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497828/original/file-20221129-18-eez8qv.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=13%2C4%2C2982%2C1989&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Maslow Entertainment</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>When I was a kid, my dad Max took me to basketball games at Melbourne’s Entertainment Centre. I’d wait in my plastic bucket chair as the cheerleaders shook their pom poms and the teams did lay ups. The music was loud, and around the time everyone had found their seats, one song would often come on. </p>
<p>It opened with a wailing, single note guitar, followed by a chunky, palm muted riff, driving along until bursting into the chorus when the vocals would demand “Am I ever gonna see your face again?” And as I licked my lemonade icy pole I’d delight as the whole stadium would <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/music/australia-culture-blog/2014/apr/15/australian-anthems-the-angels-am-i-ever-gonna-see-your-face-again">chant back</a> “No way, get fucked, fuck off.”</p>
<p>I had no idea the band was called The Angels. I didn’t know they were supposed to be the next AC/DC but didn’t quite “make it”. The intense relationships at their core were lost on me. I was just delighted by how wild it felt, this song the audience owned, breaking rules, answering back. </p>
<p>A new documentary, Kickin’ Down the Door chronicles Australian band The Angels across four decades, from suburban Adelaide to the gloss of <a href="https://themusic.com.au/news/iconic-alberts-music-studios-to-be-torn-down-to-make-way-for-luxury-apartments/wSnS1dTX1tk/08-10-15">Albert Studios</a> and beyond. </p>
<p>The classic Oz rock vibe is omnipresent: dudes, riffs, volume. </p>
<p>But this story’s star quality is how hard it works to showcase the band from both front of house and backstage, offering something far more nuanced than the well-thumbed tale of these national music icons. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/HVsWwFZo3iw?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<h2>Finding intensity</h2>
<p>The documentary centres on the songwriting team of the Brewster brothers, vocalist Bernard “Doc” Neeson, and a revolving cast of drummers, bass players and producers. </p>
<p>The themes are what you might like in a documentary about Australian rock ‘n’ roll: journeys to adulthood, mateship, resistance, lashings of hope, dollops of luck. Interviews from the band and their nearest and dearest sidle up against archival footage with cute animations bridging scenes. </p>
<p>There’s the ubiquitous drop-in from a couple of international names to provide cred – thankfully a Bono-free endeavour. There’s a slither of pre-hat Molly Meldrum. The eye candy of 70s and 80s Aussie life abounds.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497830/original/file-20221129-14-5dw5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="The band on stage" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497830/original/file-20221129-14-5dw5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497830/original/file-20221129-14-5dw5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497830/original/file-20221129-14-5dw5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497830/original/file-20221129-14-5dw5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497830/original/file-20221129-14-5dw5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497830/original/file-20221129-14-5dw5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497830/original/file-20221129-14-5dw5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The film uses archival footage and contemporary interviews.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Maslow Entertainment</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The songs are central to Kickin’ Down the Door, but rock ‘n’ roll has always been about theatre, and front man Doc Neeson’s lead in creating an unsettling intensity at live shows lifted The Angels beyond the meat and potatoes of standard Oz rock.</p>
<p>In one scene, the lighting guy talks about how Doc used silence and darkness as a tool of intensity – the antithesis of rock show bombast. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/gibson-guitars-sound-of-rock-that-will-never-go-out-of-fashion-96036">Gibson guitars: sound of rock that will never go out of fashion</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>A complex portrait</h2>
<p>Like The Angels did with rock ‘n’ roll, Kickin’ Down the Door offers a key change in the way it positions the people behind the scenes. Director Madeleine Parry has brought together a complex web of relationships pivoting on creative jubilation, obligation, devotion and estrangement.</p>
<p>At an early gig, the Brewsters’ mother is recalled as dancing on a table in a “sea of blokes”. These were her boys, who could do no wrong.</p>
<p>Mothers, girlfriends, wives and children are elevated close to the story’s centre, anchored within the nostalgic rhythm of white suburban Australian life to contrast with the band’s sprint – then marathon – to rock ‘n’ roll stardom. Beyond the band bubble, everyone’s sacrifice is apparent. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497832/original/file-20221129-22-cgfigl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="The band in a dressing room." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497832/original/file-20221129-22-cgfigl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497832/original/file-20221129-22-cgfigl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497832/original/file-20221129-22-cgfigl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497832/original/file-20221129-22-cgfigl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497832/original/file-20221129-22-cgfigl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497832/original/file-20221129-22-cgfigl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497832/original/file-20221129-22-cgfigl.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">It’s not just about the band – it’s also about the people around the band.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Maslow Entertainment</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>“We all supplied the stability while they chased the dream,” says Neeson’s then partner. </p>
<p>In bringing women to the front, Parry frames the main players as multi-dimensional, emotional and expressive. The intensity of volume, riffage and flamboyance sits in dialogue with each band members’ reflections to present the way that “performance” seamlessly slides across gender and genre.</p>
<p>This deep thoughtfulness shines through the dizzying foray of complex legal and financial arrangements bands can be thrown into, setting them up with lifelong debt. </p>
<p>This is the persistent myth of “luck” in rock ‘n’ roll. This myth grinds against the power imbalance inherent in an incredibly competitive, brutal and sometimes hedonistic global business culture. For decades, rock ‘n’ roll has relied on the exploitation of artists who sacrifice family, health, economic security and friendships to have sustainable careers.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497834/original/file-20221129-18-q7dynt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="The band today" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497834/original/file-20221129-18-q7dynt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497834/original/file-20221129-18-q7dynt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497834/original/file-20221129-18-q7dynt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497834/original/file-20221129-18-q7dynt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497834/original/file-20221129-18-q7dynt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497834/original/file-20221129-18-q7dynt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497834/original/file-20221129-18-q7dynt.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The film skilfully looks at the dark side of rock ‘n’ roll.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Maslow Entertainment</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This documentary skilfully weaves the devastation that comes when these pressures evaporate years of work for bands and their teams. </p>
<p>It isn’t so much a story about the big bad music industry swallowing up another Australian wanna be. Rather, it is a well-crafted assemblage of the pervasive way rock ‘n’ roll’s mystique works behind the scenes, prioritising profits over health and wellbeing, and the sustainability of artists and their families. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-artistic-differences-in-a-band-can-be-a-good-thing-110711">Why artistic differences in a band can be a good thing</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>The sonic legacy</h2>
<p>Undoubtedly the biggest names now in Australian guitar driven music – Amyl and the Sniffers, Courtney Barnett, King Gizzard & the Lizard Wizard, Tame Impala – are part of the sonic legacy of bands like The Angels. </p>
<p>But they also show a marked shift in how they do business when courting international markets, maintaining elements of independence and control that The Angels had no blueprint for.</p>
<p>This current crop of bands also show we are on the road to far better gender representation of what contemporary rock music looks and sounds like. And in other genres, artists like Baker Boy, Genesis Owusu, Barkaa and Jaguar Jonze continue to contest and take ownership of “the sound” of Australian music. </p>
<p>Incidentally, I never went on to play basketball. I picked up an electric guitar instead. </p>
<p><em>The Angels: Kickin’ Down the Door is in Australian cinemas from today.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/194057/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Janelle K Johnstone receives funding from the Australia Council and Creative Victoria. </span></em></p>
The documentary Kickin’ Down the Door offers something far more nuanced than the well-thumbed tale of these national music icons.
Janelle K Johnstone, PhD Candidate, La Trobe University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/194515
2022-11-29T19:10:29Z
2022-11-29T19:10:29Z
Christmas Ransom: I quite enjoyed watching this (terrible) new Aussie Christmas film
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497781/original/file-20221128-16-c18y6m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=17%2C0%2C5973%2C3988&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Stan</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>There’s something about the wintry quality of so much Christmas iconography – snow, mistletoe, fireplaces – that just doesn’t gel with the Southern hemisphere. So it’s not really that strange that Australian Christmas films have been so few and far between. </p>
<p>There is, of course, the classic adventure <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Mc211ZCnu7U">Bush Christmas</a> from 1947, starring Chips Rafferty, its <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-e4UQ6R083Q">remake</a> from 1983 starring Nicole Kidman, and <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u3McQzpzIaE">Crackers</a> from 1998. But until a few years ago, aside from a <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Around_the_World_with_Dot">handful of cartoons</a> and solid Christmas <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hMzX8GICRWo">horror thrillers</a>, festive offerings have been rare in Australia.</p>
<p>Stan have been doing something about this, with 2020’s <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B-IOp3msyqc">A Sunburnt Christmas</a> followed in 2021 by <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r_oEqfyLpMQ">Christmas on the Farm</a>, and now Christmas Ransom.</p>
<p>Derrick Harrington (Matt Okine) is the proprietor of a toy store that has seen better days. </p>
<p>When crooks Nan (Genevieve Lemon) and Shez (Bridie McKim) hold Derrick and his lead employee Pete (Ed Oxenbould) at gunpoint, demanding a ransom from Derrick’s well-heeled sister Terri (Vivienne Awosoga), it is up to pregnant security guard Gladys (Miranda Tapsell) and shoplifters Brady (Tahlia Sturzaker) and Wombat (Evan Stanhope) to foil their evil plans and save the day. </p>
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<p>You can tell from the character names how hard Christmas Ransom strains to seem Australian. The opening sequences involve Santa hat wearing koalas and a giant blow up kangaroo Santa, Christmas letters deposited in her pouch.</p>
<p>There are some quirks about Christmas in Australia and, sure, everyone might have a koala ornament or two, but most of the paraphernalia in Australian Christmases is of the generic Northern hemisphere kind. So the effect seems inauthentic, straining too hard. </p>
<p>This is the film’s major weakness – it just tries too hard. It tries too hard to be funny, to be light-hearted, to be Australian and, most of all, to be a cheesy Christmas film. It’s not particularly effective in any of these aspects. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/from-love-actually-to-christmas-on-the-farm-how-rom-coms-became-a-festive-season-staple-171819">From Love Actually to Christmas On The Farm: how rom-coms became a festive season staple</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Straining to be clever</h2>
<p>There is something endearingly lame about many of the best Christmas movies. Even critically-acclaimed films like It’s a Wonderful Life and the brilliant 1945 version of Christmas in Connecticut are schmaltzy to a degree that would be seen as a fault in a non-holiday film. The cheesy quality is a major source of their charm.</p>
<p>But it doesn’t work if a film is simultaneously trying to be clever. Christmas Ransom wants to be both a heartfelt cheeseball Christmas film and a witty, knowing take on the Christmas film genre. The mix doesn’t work.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497780/original/file-20221128-16-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C6240%2C4147&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Two people being held up." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497780/original/file-20221128-16-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C6240%2C4147&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497780/original/file-20221128-16-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497780/original/file-20221128-16-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497780/original/file-20221128-16-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497780/original/file-20221128-16-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497780/original/file-20221128-16-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497780/original/file-20221128-16-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Christmas Ransom wants to be both a heartfelt film and a witty take on the Christmas film genre.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Stan</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>There are numerous “wink-wink” moments to other Christmas films for viewers in the know – Harrington’s father is named Clarence, for example, recalling the angel in the Capra film. But Christmas Ransom feels the need to take things one (irritating) step further, making already obvious references explicit. </p>
<p>At one point, Gladys throws a Santa out the window to get the attention of the fire engine who think they’ve been mistakenly alerted, directly recalling the similar moment in Die Hard. Later, Gladys says “so this is what it means to die hard,” spelling out the reference to the infinitely better Christmas ransom film. It’s hard to understand the point – is this meant to be funny? Clever? Is it being deliberately stupid?</p>
<p>Some of the material would have worked well on paper – it’s Home Alone meets Die Hard with a dash of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=avqzNZdoIoE">The Ref</a>, filtered through a daggy Aussie sensibility – and you can understand why the script would have been greenlit. </p>
<p>There are some funny and cute ideas: an assault with a swimming noodle; thieves hiding in a ball pit; hostages tied up with tinsel and Christmas lights. As the camera pulls back to reveal the very ordinary building at the beginning of the film, Gladys’ voiceover tells us Harrington and Sons is “the greatest toy store in the whole wide world – or at least in the greater metropolitan region.”</p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497786/original/file-20221128-21-6d5d8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="The thief holds a pool noodle." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497786/original/file-20221128-21-6d5d8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497786/original/file-20221128-21-6d5d8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497786/original/file-20221128-21-6d5d8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497786/original/file-20221128-21-6d5d8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497786/original/file-20221128-21-6d5d8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497786/original/file-20221128-21-6d5d8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497786/original/file-20221128-21-6d5d8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">There are cute ideas, like an assault with a swimming noodle.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Stan</span></span>
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<p>Christmas Ransom could appear fresh, engaging, sweet but also clever in its approach to the Christmas movie. There’s romance. There’s action. There’s fractured relationships between partners and siblings overcome by the end. There is a general waning of Christmas spirit that is remedied – a common trope of the genre – with the toy store transformed into the kind of thriving wonderland of movie-world (think the toy store in Home Alone 2) in the final sequences. </p>
<p>But it all seems rather forced. The kind of comedic overacting that works in films like the Hulk Hogan-starring Christmas masterpiece <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EWyh6_-qFrw">Santa With Muscles</a> doesn’t pay off here. The numerous fart jokes may appeal to very young children, but probably not many others. The music labours to keep us engaged, but also seems deliberately hammy and thus pointless in a film that isn’t quite committed to being a spoof. </p>
<h2>The good and the bad</h2>
<p>This is not to suggest it’s not worth watching. In fact, I quite enjoyed watching this terrible Aussie Christmas film.</p>
<p>For aficionados of Christmas cinema, the good and the bad, Christmas Ransom is light-hearted and silly enough to be bearable. There are some endearingly daggy zany moments and the lameness of much of it isn’t necessarily a problem for this kind of fare. But it just doesn’t work as well when it tries to be clever, because it’s not.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497787/original/file-20221128-24-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A ball bounces off Miranda Tapsell's pregnant belly." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497787/original/file-20221128-24-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/497787/original/file-20221128-24-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497787/original/file-20221128-24-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497787/original/file-20221128-24-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497787/original/file-20221128-24-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497787/original/file-20221128-24-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/497787/original/file-20221128-24-nq66tz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
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<span class="caption">Christmas Ransom is light hearted and silly enough to be bearable.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Stan</span></span>
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</figure>
<p>And even if its 83 minute run time seems overlong, it compares favourably with much of the other straight-to-streaming Christmas films – next to <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7OnvdECygtY">Santa Girl</a> it looks like Vertigo – and it’s fun watching a bad Christmas film from Australia for a change.</p>
<p><em>Christmas Ransom is on Stan from December 1.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/christmas-movies-that-time-of-year-when-home-is-where-the-heart-is-129085">Christmas movies: that time of year when home is where the heart is</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/194515/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ari Mattes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
For aficionados of Christmas cinema, the good and the bad, Christmas Ransom is light hearted and silly enough to be bearable.
Ari Mattes, Lecturer in Communications and Media, University of Notre Dame Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/192094
2022-11-08T19:39:42Z
2022-11-08T19:39:42Z
A dystopian Australia, stomach-churning physical humour, and several films with donkeys: the best films of the 2022 Adelaide Film Festival
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/493971/original/file-20221107-3609-z5xwd9.JPG?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C5991%2C3988&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Survival of Kindness</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Adelaide Film Festival</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The Adelaide Film Festival is well timed in the festival calendar, as it lands between many films premiering at the Venice Film Festival and their Australian theatrical release. </p>
<p>This year’s program balanced big films like My Policeman, TÁR and Banshees of Inisherin with smaller, edgier films. </p>
<p>Over the week, I saw a respectable 15 films. Here are my top five highlights.</p>
<h2>Survival of Kindness</h2>
<p>Rolf De Heer’s Survival of Kindness, supported by the festival’s investment fund, opens with BlackWoman (Mwajemi Hussein) abandoned in a desert, locked in a cage, left alone to die. As the film starts, we see her struggle to break free. Achieving this freedom, we follow her journey to the city, where she is challenged by several characters along the way. </p>
<p>The film’s gradual world building and use of genre continually subverts expectations. Is this a road movie? Is it a western? Is it perhaps science fiction? The film’s portrayal of Australia is equal parts strange and familiar. </p>
<p>De Heer depicts Australia as a dystopian landscape, where non-white folk are hunted down and exterminated by those in gas masks. The continuous subversion of expectations as the narrative unfolds makes this a compelling and confronting watch.</p>
<h2>Triangle of Sadness</h2>
<p>Ruben Östlund is fantastic at socially conscious comedies and he is at his best in the Palme d’Or winning Triangle of Sadness. The film is in two parts. </p>
<p>First, we are aboard a $250 million luxury yacht for the exceedingly wealthy, where jars of Nutella are helicoptered in and the staff are at the behest of the passengers. The staff must always say yes and never no. </p>
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<p>Passengers include Carl (Harris Dickinson) and Yaya (the late Charlbi Dean), two influencers whose beauty is paying for the trip. We also meet the ship’s drunk captain (Woody Harrelson) who gets into a heated political debate with Russian businessman Dimitry (the brilliant Zlatko Buric). </p>
<p>“While you’re swimming in abundance, the rest of the world is drowning in misery,” the captain drunkenly rants over the ship’s PA system. </p>
<p>The film obscures its standout player, cleaner Abigail (Dolly de Leon), until the second act, when her character arc is revealed to be pivotal to the film’s objective. </p>
<p>The film’s social commentary loses any subtlety when the passengers all sit down to the captain’s dinner during a particularly rough storm. What precedes is a raucous, stomach-churning onslaught of physical humour. The humour is utterly carnivalesque. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2022/oct/28/triangle-of-sadness-fashion-industry-ruben-ostlund-palm-dor">Some critics</a> have reviewed the film as being too on the nose, which is the absolute point of this film. This havoc leads into the film’s second act, which deftly sees these class structures challenged and subverted. The tone of the film dramatically changes as well, with the laugh-out-loud comedy making way for a fallout of the social dynamics constructed in the first half. </p>
<p><em>Triangle of Sadness will be in Australian cinemas from December 22.</em></p>
<h2>Senses of Cinema</h2>
<p>Understandably, John Hughes and Tom Zubrycki’s Senses of Cinema was also a standout film in <a href="https://theconversation.com/the-best-films-at-this-years-melbourne-international-film-festival-189530">Adrian Dank’s highlights</a> for The Conversation from this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival. </p>
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<p>The film examines the history of Sydney and Melbourne film co-operatives told by those at the forefront of independent filmmaking in Australia. </p>
<p>Those interviewed include important figures such as Martha Ansara, Jan Chapman, Albie Thoms and Phillip Noyce. </p>
<p>Key to this film is that there has always been an audience for these films and – regardless of the hurdles faced – artists will always persist. </p>
<p>The extensive use of films from the archives is wonderful, making this an important inclusion to any course on Australian cinema. The documentary also doesn’t shy away from political differences that formed during the collectives’ history, such as the surging feminist movement’s critique of the sexist representation of women in some early films or the role of class with a lot of the early filmmakers being products of private schooling. </p>
<p>Fascinating moments included early filmmaking with and, more importantly, by First Nations’ communities, such as the work by Essie Coffey. I was pleased to see Digby Duncan’s documentary Witches & Faggots, Dykes & Poofters discussed as these co-operatives were significant to the development of queer Australian filmmaking. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-best-films-at-this-years-melbourne-international-film-festival-189530">The best films at this year's Melbourne International Film Festival</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Phantom Project</h2>
<p>This year’s festival had a strong queer presence, which is important as there is no dedicated stand-alone queer film festival in Adelaide. </p>
<p>Paul Struthers, previously the director of Queer Screen in Sydney and of San Francisco’s Frameline International LGBTQ Film Festival, was a guest programmer. Struthers’ talent for queer programming is indicative in the offerings in this year’s program. There were the big events with Bros and My Policeman, starring Harry Styles. There were also many smaller queer films that one would expect from a queer film festival, such as Will-O-The-Wisp and Uyra: The Rising Forest. </p>
<p>My highlight from the queer slate was Phantom Project, a small Chilean film dubbed as an urban gay ghost story. </p>
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<p>The film opens with Pedro’s roommate moving out, owing him two months rent and leaving behind a cardigan. </p>
<p>Unbeknown to Pedro, this cardigan is possessed by a ghost, who begins to haunt him and his dog Susan during the night. </p>
<p>The film is a light-hearted take on the ghost genre, with crude animated squiggles representing the presence of the ghost, making it a silent character for the film. </p>
<p>Pablo is surrounded by young creatives, YouTubers, musicians, and actors, and yet, Pablo is at a creative block in his life that leaves him unfilled. Being haunted becomes an allegory for this fear of leading an unfulfilled life. </p>
<p>While the film does lose cohesion in the closing act, it is nonetheless fun and simple. This type of film, the small, independent production, is just as important for the film to support than the major titles coming out of Venice or Cannes. </p>
<h2>Banshees of Inisherin</h2>
<p>Martin McDonagh reunites with Colin Farrell and Brendan Gleeson from In Bruges to deliver another tragic comedy. </p>
<p>In 1923 on the small idyllic farming island Inisherin, Colm Doherty (Gleeson) tells Pádraic Súilleabháin (Colin Farrell) their friendship is over, and they are never to talk again. </p>
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<p>In the small community of Inisherin, however, where the shopkeepers open your mail and the only place to go in the evening is the local pub for a singalong, it’s not easy for Pádraic to easily avoid Colm. </p>
<p>Ignoring the pleas from his sister Siobhan (a superb Kerry Condon), Pádraic continues to pester Colm, who declares that if Pádraic doesn’t heed his warnings, he will cut off his own fingers, one by one, for each time that Pádraic ignores the warning. For a man who lives to play his violin and yearns to leave a legacy in his music, this is a grim ultimatum. </p>
<p>In the background of this breakdown, the Irish civil war sounds off on the mainland, a constant reminder of the potential for destruction. </p>
<p>Both Farrell and Gleeson offer fantastic performances. With the slightest change in facial expression, both men can change the tone from humour to sadness. Pádraic is a gentle and ever-so slightly dull man whose deeply good nature is tested with this sudden change of character in Colm. He is very much like his pet mini-donkey, Jenny, with his humbleness and loyalty. </p>
<p>If there was one symbol of the Adelaide Film Festival this year, it would be the donkey. Given this film, EO and Triangle of Sadness, these humble, hardworking beasts appeared in many films in the program. </p>
<p>Much like the everyday men fighting over on the mainland, Pádraic and Colm are also driven down violent and destructive paths. While the wit of the dialogue is sharp, this is a deeply sad exploration of the love and fear that drive us. </p>
<p><em>Banshees of Inisherin will be in Australian cinemas from December 26.</em></p>
<h2>The best of the rest</h2>
<p>As always, there were a slew of other films I saw worth a mention. </p>
<p>Hirokazu Kore-Eda’s Broker is another strong offering from the director whose skill at presenting heartbreaking tales of family are like none other. </p>
<p>While I didn’t love TÁR as much as some other critics have, the experience of seeing the film in a sold-out session at the historic Capri cinema with Cate Blanchett in attendance was electrifying. </p>
<p>The closing night Adelaide-made Talk to Me is a smart horror film that will be popular in the months and years ahead.</p>
<p>There were also many films which I didn’t see due to programming clashes I now have to chase down, such as Monolith, EO and Hamlet Syndrome. The Adelaide Film Festival has been a huge success this year, firming its position as an important player in the Australian screen industry.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/192094/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Stuart Richards does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
This year’s program balanced big films like My Policeman, TÁR and Banshees of Inisherin with smaller, edgier films. Here’s the best of the best.
Stuart Richards, Lecturer in Screen Studies, University of South Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/191499
2022-09-30T01:17:12Z
2022-09-30T01:17:12Z
Made in 1972, the documentary Ningla-A’Na is a powerful look at establishment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486987/original/file-20220928-12-6roxgd.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C2234%2C1497&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">Moratorium for Black rights Sydney from the film NINGLA ANA</span> </figcaption></figure><p>This year, we acknowledge the <a href="https://theconversation.com/a-short-history-of-the-aboriginal-tent-embassy-an-indelible-reminder-of-unceded-sovereignty-174693">50th anniversary </a> of the establishment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy, the site of the longest protest for Indigenous land rights, sovereignty and self-determination in the world. </p>
<p>Now, a documentary made at the time of the Embassy’s establishment, Ningla-A’Na (“<a href="https://www.ozmovies.com.au/movie/ningla-a-na">hungry for our land</a>”), has been restored and is being re-released in Australian cinemas.</p>
<p>Gary Foley, one of the people who established the Embassy, calls it “the single most important film on the Aboriginal political struggle in the last 50 years”.</p>
<p>Director Alessandro Cavadini was the only filmmaker who was able to get up close and film intimate footage of the organisation and thinking behind the establishment of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy. The film also looks at the Aboriginal Medical Service, the Aboriginal Legal Service and the National Black Theatre.</p>
<p>The documentary features some of our most militant political organisers well known for their involvement in the Black Liberation movement, with footage of Foley, Paul Coe, Roberta Sykes, Isabelle Coe, Bob Maza, Shirley Smith – more fondly known as “<a href="https://www.nma.gov.au/explore/features/indigenous-rights/people/shirley-smith">Mum Shirl</a>” – and many other significant Aboriginal voices from the 1970s.</p>
<p>But watching the film 50 years on, it feels to me we are still having the same conversations we did in the 1970s.</p>
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</figure>
<h2>A protest embassy</h2>
<p>The Aboriginal Tent Embassy was established as a protest to prime minister Billy McMahon’s <a href="https://newmatilda.com/2014/10/21/among-our-prime-ministers-whitlam-stood-tall-land-rights/">announcement</a> his government would never grant Aboriginal land rights.</p>
<p>This left Aboriginal people little choice other than to mobilise and become strategically politicised. The Black Liberation movement was, and continues to be, focused on the oppressive systems that operate to harm Aboriginal peoples and deny human rights.</p>
<p>As I watched Ningla-A’Na, I felt a great sense of pride at the staunch stand made by Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples, even as they faced violent police intervention. </p>
<p>In one moment in the film, Mum Shirl steps forward with determination to ensure her grandchild bears witness to the Black leadership driving the movement.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/a-short-history-of-the-aboriginal-tent-embassy-an-indelible-reminder-of-unceded-sovereignty-174693">A short history of the Aboriginal Tent Embassy – an indelible reminder of unceded sovereignty</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Continuing stories</h2>
<p>While set around the establishment of the Tent Embassy, Ningla-A’Na places this into the broader political conversation of the time.</p>
<p>The film captures the absolute frustration Aboriginal people felt with decades of inaction by governments to address the high levels of discrimination and racism, including the high rates of Aboriginal child mortality.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486988/original/file-20220928-12-lzuoqw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486988/original/file-20220928-12-lzuoqw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486988/original/file-20220928-12-lzuoqw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=444&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486988/original/file-20220928-12-lzuoqw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=444&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486988/original/file-20220928-12-lzuoqw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=444&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486988/original/file-20220928-12-lzuoqw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=558&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486988/original/file-20220928-12-lzuoqw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=558&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486988/original/file-20220928-12-lzuoqw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=558&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Protesters outside Old Parliament House, July 1972 from the film NINGLA ANA.</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Fred Hollows features, speaking to the disgraceful state of healthcare Aboriginal people were suffering. </p>
<p>Hollows speaks about <a href="https://theconversation.com/why-is-trachoma-blinding-aboriginal-children-when-mainstream-australia-eliminated-it-100-years-ago-63526">trachoma</a> in Aboriginal communities, and how it had been eradicated in non-Indigenous communities. Trachoma is one of the major causes of preventable blindness in the world. In Australia it is <a href="https://pubmed.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/25944335/">solely a disease</a> of Aboriginal people. </p>
<p>The neglect of the government to provide adequate healthcare and address racism is an ongoing battle seen recently in the <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/4corners/heart-failure:-an-investigation-into-the-hidden/13787308">ABC Four Corners report</a> highlighting the ongoing deaths of Aboriginal people from preventable diseases.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/why-is-trachoma-blinding-aboriginal-children-when-mainstream-australia-eliminated-it-100-years-ago-63526">Why is trachoma blinding Aboriginal children when mainstream Australia eliminated it 100 years ago?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>A place for anger</h2>
<p>Throughout the documentary, Aboriginal people are told to approach the situation politely and not swear or be angry. </p>
<p>But the people at the heart of this story have had enough of being told to be polite to appease the people and structures that continue to oppress them.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486989/original/file-20220928-26-e8uoa0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486989/original/file-20220928-26-e8uoa0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486989/original/file-20220928-26-e8uoa0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=427&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486989/original/file-20220928-26-e8uoa0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=427&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486989/original/file-20220928-26-e8uoa0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=427&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486989/original/file-20220928-26-e8uoa0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=536&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486989/original/file-20220928-26-e8uoa0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=536&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486989/original/file-20220928-26-e8uoa0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=536&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Police making arrests in George St from the film NINGLA ANA.</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Anger circulates throughout the film. Anger can be an immensely effective force. This is why oppressed groups are almost inevitably discouraged from expressing anger.</p>
<p>Aboriginal people’s anger, their refusal to move on, their refusal to “reconcile” can clearly be understood as hope for a different future.</p>
<p>Ningla-A’Na shows people imagining a future without their children dying young or being removed from their families. A future where Aboriginal people are not killed in custody and have access to healthcare. A future in which Aboriginal lives matter.</p>
<h2>Black liberation</h2>
<p>In one scene, Isabelle Coe is talking about the white women who are trying to convince Aboriginal women to join the feminist movement. “Blacks have to liberate ourselves” she says.</p>
<p>I am reminded of the contemporary work of <a href="http://australianhumanitiesreview.org/1998/12/01/sister-girl-the-writings-of-aboriginal-activist-and-historian-jackie-huggins/">Jackie Huggins</a> and <a href="https://www.uqp.com.au/books/talkin-up-to-the-white-woman-indigenous-women-and-feminism-20th-anniversary-edition">Aileen Moreton Robinson</a>, who have both challenged white feminism and its lack of consideration or inclusion of Aboriginal women. </p>
<p>Aboriginal women are discriminated against for being both a woman and for being Aboriginal.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486990/original/file-20220928-24-pv1r1o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486990/original/file-20220928-24-pv1r1o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/486990/original/file-20220928-24-pv1r1o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=408&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486990/original/file-20220928-24-pv1r1o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=408&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486990/original/file-20220928-24-pv1r1o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=408&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486990/original/file-20220928-24-pv1r1o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=512&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486990/original/file-20220928-24-pv1r1o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=512&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/486990/original/file-20220928-24-pv1r1o.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=512&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Embassy protesters from the film NINGLA ANA.</span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Interviewed in the film, Gary Foley talks about his frustrations that the broader population is completely devoid of any knowledge of the basic principles that are at stake. </p>
<p>Aboriginal people have never been idle when it comes to defending our lands and fighting for land rights. </p>
<p>From the resistance to British colonisation recently highlighted in the documentary <a href="https://theconversation.com/in-the-australian-wars-rachel-perkins-dispenses-with-the-myth-aboriginal-people-didnt-fight-back-190967">The Australian Wars</a> to coordinated protests to “<a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2022-09-22/protests-abolish-monarchy-streets-day-mourning-queen-elizabeth/101464716">abolish the monarchy</a>” to the <a href="https://www.commonground.org.au/learn/land-back">#LandBack movement</a> using digital technologies, Aboriginal people continue to call for action and land to be returned.</p>
<p>Ningla-A’Na is a must-watch. It is a glimpse into the past with all too much relevance to contemporary struggles.</p>
<p><em>Ningla-A’Na is in select cinemas from today.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/in-the-australian-wars-rachel-perkins-dispenses-with-the-myth-aboriginal-people-didnt-fight-back-190967">In The Australian Wars, Rachel Perkins dispenses with the myth Aboriginal people didn't fight back</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/191499/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Bronwyn Carlson does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Ningla-A’Na has now been restored and is being re-released in Australian cinemas.
Bronwyn Carlson, Professor, Indigenous Studies and Director of The Centre for Global Indigenous Futures, Macquarie University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/188146
2022-08-17T20:06:03Z
2022-08-17T20:06:03Z
Bosch & Rockit is a sincere and sweet coming of age film, with a kind of simple magic
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479246/original/file-20220816-10485-bnp5h7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=20%2C0%2C6689%2C4466&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Madman Entertainment</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: Bosch & Rockit, written and directed by Tyler Atkins.</em> </p>
<p>Sometimes a film comes along that simply feels right. From the opening shot, it envelops us in its world with a commitment that allows us to forgive any shortcomings. </p>
<p>Bosch & Rockit is such a film. Written and directed by actor Tyler Atkins – his first time helming a feature film – it’s a coming of age story following teen surfie Rockit (played by pro surfer Rasmus King) and the ups and downs of his relationship with his father, heart-of-gold pot farmer Bosch (Luke Hemsworth). </p>
<p>When a fire encroaches on Bosch’s crop, he’s forced to flee the law, including the corrupt cops with whom he’s in business. </p>
<p>With his son in tow, Bosch goes to a postcard perfect Byron Bay, where he has a fling with Deb (Isabel Lucas), daughter of the owner of the Sails Motel where they’re staying. </p>
<p>Meanwhile Rockit, left largely to his own devices, surfs a lot, eats fish and chips, and begins a friendship of his own with waif Ash (Savannah La Rain), also from a broken home. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/DzQ_1dFnsE0?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>As the police close in, Rockit is palmed off on his mother, Liz (Aussie screen stalwart Leeanna Walsman), but she struggles to provide the care Rockit needs – she’s an alcoholic – and she ends up dumping him back with his dad. </p>
<p>Angry with his parents, Rockit takes a job on a prawn trawler, Ash returns to his life, and their relationship blossoms. </p>
<h2>A kind of simple magic</h2>
<p>If it sounds cheesy, it’s because it is. The film is sentimental, formulaic, and unevenly paced – the first two-thirds as they dodge the police feels pleasurably compressed, occurring over a few weeks. The last third seems to merely drift along on the current with several years unfolding.</p>
<p>But it’s also incredibly sweet, with charming characters and stellar performances from the two key actors. The lesser-known Hemsworth is rock solid as the macho but sensitive dad, giving a full-bodied performance that convinces us of the tenderness within the egotistical facade. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479251/original/file-20220816-17669-bvhz1h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A dad and son on a bike." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479251/original/file-20220816-17669-bvhz1h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479251/original/file-20220816-17669-bvhz1h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479251/original/file-20220816-17669-bvhz1h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479251/original/file-20220816-17669-bvhz1h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479251/original/file-20220816-17669-bvhz1h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479251/original/file-20220816-17669-bvhz1h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479251/original/file-20220816-17669-bvhz1h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Luke Hemsworth is rock solid as the macho but sensitive dad, and Rasmus King is exceptional.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Madman Entertainment</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Teenager King is exceptional as the naïve and goofy Rockit. Unsurprisingly, his surfing is superb, and they obviously didn’t need to use a double for him. </p>
<p>One of the highlights of the film is the awesome surf photography, and at times it feels like a surfing video with a plot tacked onto it. The stunning underwater images in the opening sequence alone would make the film worth watching. </p>
<p>Maybe it’s all a bit too perfect, a bit too clean. We’re talking about drug dealers, corrupt cops and neglectful parents, and yet the whole thing is characterised by a kind of dreamy and ethereal quality, replete with amazing drone footage of surfing, slow-motion images of waves breaking, whales, dolphins, and time-lapse galore staging the coastal terrain in all its glory against the elements. Perhaps it’s all a little too Instagrammatic. </p>
<p>And yet, because the film is filtered through the subjectivity of young Rockit, we buy it. As he looks at the ocean with his father and sees a kind of simple magic in it, so does the film look at these characters and scenarios with a simple sensibility.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/friday-essay-why-theres-still-something-about-byron-beyond-insta-influencers-and-beige-linen-159055">Friday essay: why there's still something about Byron, beyond Insta influencers and beige linen</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Sincere and earnest</h2>
<p>Rife with nostalgia, the film embraces an Australian (east) coast aesthetic from an earlier time unspecified, though we assume it’s the late 1990s or early 2000s – there’s dial-up Internet and don’t seem to be mobile phones. Beach bums can still afford to live near the beach in this world; Byron Bay looks far different from the auctioneer’s paradise it is today. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479248/original/file-20220816-17834-1oxq7u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A boy and girl under a sunset." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479248/original/file-20220816-17834-1oxq7u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/479248/original/file-20220816-17834-1oxq7u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479248/original/file-20220816-17834-1oxq7u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479248/original/file-20220816-17834-1oxq7u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479248/original/file-20220816-17834-1oxq7u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479248/original/file-20220816-17834-1oxq7u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/479248/original/file-20220816-17834-1oxq7u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">This is Byron Bay in all its instagramable beauty.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Madman Entertainment</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Like the most effective coming of age and nostalgia films, Bosch & Rockit taps into the interiority of its protagonist as he looks out at the world, capturing that faintly melancholic moment when a teenager becomes thrilled with big bad life but also realises they’re in it for the most part alone. </p>
<p>Bosch & Rockit is a sincere and earnest coming of age film with an understated quality that makes it better than many of its ilk. Its dreamy images unfold in the context of a genuinely touching relationship between father and son. </p>
<p>If you like gritty films, or clever films, then you probably won’t like this. There’s nothing knowing about Bosch & Rockit. The plot is rudimentary, but the tone is totally compelling, the characters are likeable, and the surf photography first rate. </p>
<p>It’s a film that hits the right notes, even if these aren’t exactly unexpected. </p>
<p><em>Bosch & Rockit is in cinemas from today.</em></p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/surf-music-in-praise-of-strings-sand-and-the-endless-swell-128914">Surf music – in praise of strings, sand and the endless swell</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/188146/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ari Mattes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The plot is rudimentary, but the tone is totally compelling, the characters are likable, and the surf photography first rate.
Ari Mattes, Lecturer in Communications and Media, University of Notre Dame Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/188292
2022-08-08T02:15:16Z
2022-08-08T02:15:16Z
Remembering Shirley Barrett: an offbeat and generous Australian director and writer
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/477968/original/file-20220808-43788-zvuolw.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C2496%2C3428&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">AP Photo/Laurent Rebours</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Australia, and the world, has lost a unique voice with the passing last week of acclaimed director and writer Shirley Barrett. </p>
<p>Barrett gained international fame in 1996 when she won the Caméra d’Or – Cannes Film Festival’s award for best first feature – for Love Serenade. Following growing global attention, by 1997 the <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1997/07/27/movies/a-pragmatic-australian-with-an-offbeat-take-on-the-world.html">New York Times</a> would celebrate her as “a pragmatic Australian with an offbeat take on the world.” </p>
<p>Barrett’s offbeat take infused her <a href="https://shirleybarrett.com/">work</a>, including two more films – Walk the Talk (2000) and South Solitary (2010) – recognisable television dramas such as Love My Way, Offspring and A Place to Call Home, and novels Rush Oh! and The Bus on Thursday. </p>
<p>Barrett passed away peacefully in her sleep at her home in Sydney at age 60, following a battle with metastatic breast cancer.</p>
<p>A <a href="https://twitter.com/EmsyNorris/status/1555089599927820290">social media post</a> from Barrett’s daughter Emmeline Norris confirmed the passing of her mother on Wednesday morning. </p>
<p>In the post, Norris marked the loss of </p>
<blockquote>
<p>not only a brilliant filmmaker and writer, but more importantly a loving mother to me and my sister, the lifelong soulmate of our dad, and the best friend one could ask for.“ </p>
</blockquote>
<p><div data-react-class="Tweet" data-react-props="{"tweetId":"1555089599927820290"}"></div></p>
<h2>Exploring desire in wayward places</h2>
<p>Barrett’s films presented a unique perspective on love, desire, and the workings of life at the margins – both social and geographic – of Australian society. </p>
<p>Between 1996 and 2010 Barrett wrote and directed three films, an accomplishment in the Australian industry where second features can be <a href="https://if.com.au/australia-lags-the-rest-of-the-world-in-second-time-feature-directors/">difficult to make</a> (especially for women). </p>
<p>From the isolated tedium of geographically remote settings of Love Serenade and South Solitary, and the more seedy fringes of fame on the RSL circuits of the Gold Coast in Walk the Talk, these films were marked by the power of their locations to shape the stories and desires of their characters. </p>
<p>Love Serenade, selected for <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/2022/05/18/movies/un-certain-regard.html">Un Certain Regard</a> – the Cannes Film Festival’s program for exploring new cinematic horizons – highlights Barrett’s unique perspective on storytelling.</p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Rk92ymOMlyc?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>Celebrated for one of the most <a href="https://www.sensesofcinema.com/2009/key-moments-in-australian-cinema-issue-70-march-2014/take-it-all-off-baby-take-it-all-off-the-australian-kamasutra-love-serenade-shirley-barrett-1996/">un-erotic stripteases</a> in cinema history, Love Serenade subtly subverted the conventions of the romantic comedy genre. The film follows sisters Vicki-Ann and Dimity Hurley, played by Rebecca Frith and Miranda Otto respectively, through their misguided seductions, and later disposal, of new-in-town Brisbane radio DJ Ken Sherry. </p>
<p>Far from indulging the expected love triangle and romantic tensions, the film instead focuses on the oppressiveness of the film’s setting: the middle-of-nowhere town of Sunray. </p>
<p>In this place, the sister’s desiring of Ken stands in for a wider set of longings; a "yearning for something else”, as <a href="https://archive.org/details/issuu_libuow_cinemapaper1996junno110/page/n17/mode/1up">Barrett described it</a>. </p>
<p>Barrett would return to the themes of female desire and the power of (social) geography to shape it in her third feature, South Solitary, released in 2010. Again starring Otto, this time as the spinster niece of a lighthouse operator, South Solitary examined the lives of the tiny communities that tend the lighthouse islands in the Tasman Sea. </p>
<p>Diving into the archives to research the film, Barrett noted the appeal of this isolated setting where humans were forced to rely on unruly animals and even more unruly neighbours to survive. </p>
<p>As <a href="https://www.academia.edu/19024415/On_Animals_Archives_and_Embroidery_An_Interview_with_Shirley_Barrett">Barrett explained</a>, </p>
<blockquote>
<p>there are fascinating accounts of tension that would quickly develop between people, in this setting, with nothing else to alleviate them. Things would often go badly awry. </p>
</blockquote>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/QXoxIx2Br2I?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>South Solitary was more than simply a story about an isolated community, it was a film made by and for women. With a creative team mainly composed of women, <a href="https://www.academia.edu/19024415/On_Animals_Archives_and_Embroidery_An_Interview_with_Shirley_Barrett">Barrett would joke</a> it was “a film written for middle-aged women, by middle aged-women.” </p>
<p>Even today, such a description is <a href="https://seejane.org/wp-content/uploads/frail-frumpy-and-forgotten-report.pdf">considered a risky</a> proposition for a film’s success. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/were-right-to-make-a-scene-about-gender-equity-in-the-australian-screen-industry-51728">We're right to make a scene about gender equity in the Australian screen industry</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>From the screen to the page</h2>
<p>In 2014 Barrett released her first novel, Rush Oh!, with a backdrop telling the true story of a symbiotic relationship between a whaling town on the NSW south coast and a pod of killer whales, which aided the whalers’ work.</p>
<p>The story of Eden had begun life as a film script, developed through the years that Barrett worked on seeing South Solitary to the big screen. After <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/books-how-shirley-barrett-dumped-her-film-career-and-turned-to-writing-fiction-20150910-gjj8ow.html">languishing</a> as an unrealised project for several years, Barrett transformed the story into a book. </p>
<p>Following Rush Oh! Barrett would continue to write work for beyond the screen, releasing The Bus on Thursday in 2018 and drafting another manuscript over recent years. </p>
<p>Earlier this year Barrett wrote two articles for The Guardian about her experience with cancer and her terminal diagnosis. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.theguardian.com/australia-news/2022/mar/06/notes-on-dying-it-occurred-to-me-that-this-is-my-last-lychee-season">By March</a>, Barrett observed the strangeness of the passing of her last lychee season and the task of planning her funeral. She wrote, “it gets to a point where you just can’t do it any more, and I am at that point now. I just want to fade quietly into oblivion.” </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/i-want-to-stare-death-in-the-eye-why-dying-inspires-so-many-writers-and-artists-128061">'I want to stare death in the eye': why dying inspires so many writers and artists</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>A source of inspiration</h2>
<p>In 2018 I was lucky enough to meet Shirley Barrett, when we screened Love Serenade as the opening night film of the Melbourne Women in Film Festival. </p>
<p>Barrett, alongside the film’s producer Jan Chapman and editor Denise Haratzis, introduced their film and spoke with audience members at the after-film party.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/477966/original/file-20220807-71528-380qrc.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/477966/original/file-20220807-71528-380qrc.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/477966/original/file-20220807-71528-380qrc.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/477966/original/file-20220807-71528-380qrc.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=402&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/477966/original/file-20220807-71528-380qrc.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/477966/original/file-20220807-71528-380qrc.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/477966/original/file-20220807-71528-380qrc.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=505&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Shirley Barrett (centre) with Jan Chapman and Denise Haratzis at the Melbourne Women in Film Festival 2018.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="license">Author provided</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Although brief, this meeting had an impact on myself as well as many emerging filmmakers in the room. Barrett’s generosity of time and spirit were incredible gifts. Her passing has resulted in an outpouring of memories and grief from the people she encountered.</p>
<p>Barrett’s films and novels leave a legacy that lies in her unique perspective and engaging storytelling, and in her generosity as an artist to encourage and inspire.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/188292/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Kirsten Stevens is deputy director of the Melbourne Women in Film Festival</span></em></p>
Shirley Barrett burst onto the international scene when her debut film, Love Serenade won the Caméra d’Or at Cannes Film Festival.
Kirsten Stevens, Lecturer in Arts and Cultural Management, The University of Melbourne
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/170782
2021-11-09T23:37:06Z
2021-11-09T23:37:06Z
The Drover’s Wife: the Legend of Molly Johnson brings a Black woman’s perspective to Australian frontier films
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/430928/original/file-20211108-17-5vsx8m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=181%2C0%2C2701%2C1087&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Bunya Productions, Oombarra Productions</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: The Drover’s Wife: the Legend of Molly Johnson, written and directed by Leah Purcell, Sydney Film Festival</em></p>
<p>Leah Purcell’s The Drover’s Wife: the Legend of Molly Johnson is an inspired and compelling re-imagining of Henry Lawson’s <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/9363188-the-drover-s-wife">The Drover’s Wife</a>, a short story originally published in The Bulletin in 1892.</p>
<p>Purcell’s debut feature film as writer and director, filmed in late 2019, has emerged out of a lifelong connection with this story. Citing three generations of drovers in her own family, <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82A3wzwKWOI">Purcell explained in a recent interview</a> how, as a five-year-old girl, she would implore her mother to read Lawson’s story to her. For Purcell, it was, “the first time I used my imagination and saw myself in a story”.</p>
<p>As her mother recited, Purcell would imagine a “little film in my head”. In it, she was the little boy in the story and her mother the drover’s wife.</p>
<p>Purcell has been repeatedly drawn to The Drover’s Wife as a way of placing her Indigenous family’s story before a broad Australian audience. The film expands on the acclaimed stage play she wrote and starred in, <a href="https://belvoir.com.au/productions/the-drovers-wife/">which premiered at Belvoir Street Theatre in 2016</a> and won the Victorian prize for literature, two NSW premier’s literary awards and four Helpmann awards. She also adapted the play into a <a href="https://www.penguin.com.au/books/the-drovers-wife-9780143791478">novel, released in 2019</a>.</p>
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</figure>
<p>In all three versions of the story, set in 1893 in the Snowy Mountains in NSW, Purcell gives voice to Indigenous experiences of the frontier that were maligned and marginalised in Lawson’s version. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/how-historically-accurate-is-the-film-high-ground-the-violence-it-depicts-is-uncomfortably-close-to-the-truth-154475">How historically accurate is the film High Ground? The violence it depicts is uncomfortably close to the truth</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>As in the play, the film is carried by its Indigenous co-stars. Purcell plays the drover’s wife, Molly Johnson, unearthing an Indigenous heritage for the character. Johnson is burdened by a dark secret and Purcell imbues the role with a determined strength, her posture and gaze expressing fortitude, grit and constant vigilance, whether she is carrying her broom or her rifle.</p>
<p>Rob Collins plays Yadaka, a character inspired by Purcell’s great-grandfather, Tippo Charlie Chambers, a caring and gentle man who spent time as a travelling circus performer in the 1890s while yearning for his Country.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/430929/original/file-20211108-19-11q4cdq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/430929/original/file-20211108-19-11q4cdq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/430929/original/file-20211108-19-11q4cdq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430929/original/file-20211108-19-11q4cdq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430929/original/file-20211108-19-11q4cdq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430929/original/file-20211108-19-11q4cdq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430929/original/file-20211108-19-11q4cdq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430929/original/file-20211108-19-11q4cdq.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Yadaka (Rob Collins), left, is central to this reworked story.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Bunya Productions, Oombarra Productions</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Yadaka is central to Purcell’s reworking of the original story, fleshed out from the brief mention of a “stray blackfellow” who chops some wood for the drover’s wife in Lawson’s version.</p>
<p>In the film, the fugitive Yadaka arrives at the heavily pregnant Molly’s isolated property and ultimately saves her life when her labour goes wrong, helping her to bury her stillborn child. But Yadaka is a wanted man, blamed for the murder of a white family in town. This sets off an unfortunate chain of events.</p>
<p>Yadaka also unlocks Molly’s understanding of her Indigenous family, paving the way for her children to escape from becoming wards of the state. The strong bond the drover’s wife has with her children in Lawson’s original story is deepened in Purcell’s film. Molly is driven to protect her children from the authorities and to overcome violence and hardship. </p>
<p>Molly’s eldest son Danny – played by Malachi Dower-Roberts, who <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=82A3wzwKWOI">Purcell joyfully describes</a> as a “red-haired freckled Blackfella from Glebe” – functions as a figure of hope in the film.</p>
<p>He forms a bond with Yadaka, taking responsibility for guiding his siblings to safety. The absence of the drover himself, Jo Johnson, meanwhile, is attributed to his being a violent drunk and an abuser, rather than the heroic, pioneering figure imagined by Lawson.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/430931/original/file-20211108-17-wm8elz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/430931/original/file-20211108-17-wm8elz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/430931/original/file-20211108-17-wm8elz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430931/original/file-20211108-17-wm8elz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430931/original/file-20211108-17-wm8elz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430931/original/file-20211108-17-wm8elz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430931/original/file-20211108-17-wm8elz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/430931/original/file-20211108-17-wm8elz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Molly Johnson is driven to protect her children.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Bunya Productions, Oombarra Productions</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The film was shot in and around Adaminaby. Cinematographer Mark Wareham captures the beauty and harshness of the rolling hills and valleys of this vast, alpine landscape, from dusty clearings to lush greenery and stark, white snow.</p>
<p>Foreboding, enveloping mists are rendered by the time-lapse photography of Murray Fredericks. The beauty and menace of this landscape frame the film’s harrowing violence. The final closeup shots are especially chilling.</p>
<h2>Violent realities</h2>
<p>Purcell’s is not, of course, the first re-imagining of Lawson’s story. In 2017, Frank Moorhouse brought together a collection of its numerous literary reworkings in <a href="https://sydneyreviewofbooks.com/review/the-drovers-wife-wives-frank-moorhouse-ryan-oneill/">The Drover’s Wife: A Celebration of a Great Love Affair</a>, including the writer and director’s notes from Purcell’s original play. </p>
<p>But Purcell’s cinematic version of the story exemplifies what Felicity Collins and Therese Davis describe in their book <a href="https://www.cambridge.org/au/academic/subjects/arts-theatre-culture/media-mass-communication/australian-cinema-after-mabo?format=HB&isbn=9780521834803">Australian Cinema After Mabo</a> as a process of “cinematic backtracking”. Familiar figures and archetypes are revived and reworked, opening up new meanings and interpretations.</p>
<p>In recent years, we have witnessed a surge of interest in the archetypes, themes and aesthetics of the Western in Australian cinema with films like The Proposition (John Hillcoat, 2005), Sweet Country (Warwick Thornton, 2017), The Nightingale (Jennifer Kent, 2018) and High Ground (Stephen Johnson, 2020). All suggest a growing reckoning with the violent realities of our frontier history.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/the-nightingale-much-ado-about-nothing-118683">The Nightingale - much ado about nothing</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Purcell’s film is part of this turn.</p>
<p>By bringing her personal history and identity as a Black woman to bear on the Australian Western, Purcell has enriched this burgeoning film cycle.</p>
<p>The way that Purcell’s Molly Johnson endures in this film is both inspiring and heartbreaking. This is a subversive survival story that brings an unflinching new perspective to Australian cinema’s ongoing engagement with the frontier.</p>
<p><em>The Drover’s Wife will be in cinemas May 2022.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/170782/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Megan Carrigy does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
A reworking of the 1892 Henry Lawson short story, this film is a subversive survival story.
Megan Carrigy, Associate Director, Academic Programs, New York University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/167352
2021-09-20T01:43:08Z
2021-09-20T01:43:08Z
‘No other people popular like Franco Cozzo in Melbourne’: a new film explores his colorful, hard-sell life
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421736/original/file-20210917-21-1yyg32r.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C4089%2C2152&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sharmill Films</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: Palazzo di Cozzo, directed by Madeleine Martiniello</em></p>
<p>Every Melburnian over 40, and many under, knows (or thinks they know) who Franco Cozzo is. He rose to fame through self-promotion aided by a little bit of associated fascination around a man who sold a product seemingly exclusively to a non-English speaking sector of the community — first-generation Mediterranean migrants — and did it in Italian (and, sort of, Greek).</p>
<p>This was radical at a time when some Anglo-Australians insisted (sometimes virulently) on only English being spoken in their presence. Cozzo’s success speaks for itself: at its height, his empire was three large outlets in inner-city Melbourne and a huge product awareness. </p>
<p>Many Italian-Australians also silently cringed, not at Cozzo’s speaking of Italian on television, but at the promotion of a baroque furnishing mode that seemed to signify a gaudy conception of success. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/403DuJMsfw4?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>You didn’t have to be a second-gen Italian-Australian to regard the Cozzo phenomenon with embarrassment: not just because of all the jokes made by Anglo-Australians, but because he was a particular kind of Italian: a Sicillian — read “peasant” — with all the attendant stereotypes.</p>
<p>In 1985, when television still united the nation in water-cooler moments, Cozzo commercials were voted the most hated by readers of The Age. Whatever else this signified, it showed strong product recognition. Were Cozzo launching himself on the world today, he would not be compelled to appear on mass media just to reach his niche market. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421740/original/file-20210917-13-11colpo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Still of a vintage TV ad" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421740/original/file-20210917-13-11colpo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421740/original/file-20210917-13-11colpo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421740/original/file-20210917-13-11colpo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421740/original/file-20210917-13-11colpo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421740/original/file-20210917-13-11colpo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421740/original/file-20210917-13-11colpo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421740/original/file-20210917-13-11colpo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cozzo promoted his empire by speaking Italian on Australian TV.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sharmill Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>In that regard, the pre-internet age did us all a favour, establishing a new awareness that there were other cultures hiding in plain sight amongst what was still an assimilationist environment.</p>
<h2>A gem of a documentary</h2>
<p>Madeleine Martiniello’s documentary on Cozzo, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt11469884/">Palazzo di Cozzo</a>, was first scheduled for the Melbourne International Film Festival. Soon to show on ABC TV, it had its cinema premiere, ironically, in Perth.</p>
<p>There’s a lot more to the man than we could glean from the smooth, showy, handsome 50-something gentleman who addressed us from his 30-second spots with long strings of Italian, Greek and English ending in the famed accented pronunciation of “Norda Melbourne, Brunswick and Footiscray”. </p>
<p>Cozzo tells us, in this minor gem of a documentary, about his overbearing father, his beloved mother and his sister, Vincenzina, who died at the age of 12. The pictures of her atop one of the family horses are touching, as are photographs of youthful, directionless and somewhat resentful Franco and his “very tough daddy” arm-in-arm in an unidentified city street in the early 1950s. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421738/original/file-20210917-17-1sm3m2d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Black and white photo" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421738/original/file-20210917-17-1sm3m2d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421738/original/file-20210917-17-1sm3m2d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421738/original/file-20210917-17-1sm3m2d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421738/original/file-20210917-17-1sm3m2d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421738/original/file-20210917-17-1sm3m2d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421738/original/file-20210917-17-1sm3m2d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421738/original/file-20210917-17-1sm3m2d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cozzo and his father in the 1950s.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sharmill Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Arriving alone in Melbourne on Australia Day, 1956, Cozzo took his horse-trading knowledge and became a Fiat dealer, a reality which gives some context to his hard-sell approach to beds and wardrobes. </p>
<p>He embraced television the following decade, presenting the Italian-language variety show Carosello on Channel 0 and then, briefly, Channel 7. </p>
<p>(In Palazzo di Cozzo, he claims it lasted three years; television listings from 1968-9 suggest less than 18 months).</p>
<p>Cozzo’s delivery of his life story told to the camera drifts between Italian and English without missing a beat, English subtitles covering both. Now in his 80s, a father of ten, he seems unwilling to distinguish between the public and private persona, but is resigned to dealing with the rumours. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421754/original/file-20210917-25-i1y5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt=" Now in his 80s, a father of ten, he seems unwilling to distinguish between the public and private persona." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421754/original/file-20210917-25-i1y5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421754/original/file-20210917-25-i1y5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421754/original/file-20210917-25-i1y5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421754/original/file-20210917-25-i1y5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421754/original/file-20210917-25-i1y5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421754/original/file-20210917-25-i1y5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421754/original/file-20210917-25-i1y5d5.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Cozzo is a father of ten.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sharmill Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Firstly, there have been many regarding mafia connections (which he denies). Additionally, his divorce and remarriage — his second wife, Assunta, appears here but his first, Antonietta, is only included in archival images — were controversial in the Italian community; the scandal is addressed implicitly. Another controversy, eldest son Luigi’s <a href="https://trove.nla.gov.au/newspaper/article/118164115">prosecution for drug dealing</a>, is the outcome, Cozzo suggests, of his own leniency as a parent (as well as Luigi being a “fool”). </p>
<p>Luigi, who was <a href="https://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/law-order/furniture-king-franco-cozzos-son-luigi-cozzo-cleared-of-kill-threats/news-story/7d499be30707e808945edeec6b037b77">cleared of a charge</a> of threatening to kill his father five years ago, is not even mentioned by name in this film, let alone interviewed.</p>
<h2>Marketing a legacy</h2>
<p>There are two Franco Cozzo stores these days. The film concentrates on the purpose-built Footscray store and gives less time to the Brunswick outlet (North Melbourne, it seems, was lost in the divorce).</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421743/original/file-20210917-21-1k3gk8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Aerial shot of Footscray" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421743/original/file-20210917-21-1k3gk8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/421743/original/file-20210917-21-1k3gk8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421743/original/file-20210917-21-1k3gk8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421743/original/file-20210917-21-1k3gk8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421743/original/file-20210917-21-1k3gk8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421743/original/file-20210917-21-1k3gk8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/421743/original/file-20210917-21-1k3gk8u.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Cozzo store in Footscray is now largely used for storage.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Sharmill Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Much of the Footscray property is currently closed to the public and used as a storeroom. Yet Cozzo insists he will maintain a shopfront presence to sell his stock. Which makes sense: why wouldn’t he continue to make as much as he can of his image and his legacy? </p>
<p>As the man himself says: “No other people popular like Franco Cozzo in Melbourne”.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>Palazzo di Cozzo is in select cinemas now.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/167352/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>David Nichols does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
This gem of a documentary explores the life — and furniture — of a Melbourne icon.
David Nichols, Associate Professor - Urban Planning, The University of Melbourne
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/165748
2021-08-24T20:06:36Z
2021-08-24T20:06:36Z
Chopper is a knowing wink at the audience. Will audiences 20 years later still wink back?
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417355/original/file-20210823-15-tkj2eo.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=5%2C0%2C1911%2C1049&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source"> Mushroom Pictures and Pariah Productions</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>Based on the autobiographical books of notorious stand-over man and self-made celebrity <a href="https://www.heraldsun.com.au/news/law-order/the-life-times-and-crimes-of-notorious-celebrity-crook-mark-8216chopper8217-read/news-story/6eff9b560e70e82dd599eaed4bea662d">Mark Brandon “Chopper” Read</a>, Andrew Dominik’s outlandish biopic Chopper detonated on Australian screens in 2000. </p>
<p>The film was an audacious combination of hard-hitting crime and oddball charm, perhaps reflecting Australian cinematic culture at the time. </p>
<p>In 1992, Romper Stomper’s ugly portrayal of neo-Nazi violence was so incendiary critic David Stratton <a href="https://www.sbs.com.au/movies/review/romper-stomper-review-movie-david-stratton-famously-refused-rate">famously refused to rate it</a>. Later, the emotionally eviscerating The Boys (1998) <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/culture/australia-culture-blog/2014/mar/21/classic-australian-films-the-boys">forced Australians to recall</a> the horrific murder of Anita Cobby.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, films like The Adventures of Priscilla Queen of the Desert (1994), Muriel’s Wedding (1994) and The Castle (1997) treated Aussie quirk as endearing. Chopper’s eccentric mood was one of reckless abandon, courting an uncomfortable laughter with its sheer audacity. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/kJtNexiQrFE?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<h2>An unhinged performance</h2>
<p>Opening with Read incarcerated in Melbourne’s Pentridge Prison in 1978, Dominik’s film charts Chopper’s select exploits over two decades. These include the senseless murder of a fellow inmate and his decision to mutilate his own ears as a ploy to be transferred to a new jail, away from prisoners bent on retaliation. </p>
<p>In 1986, out of jail, Read is a paranoid menace reigniting old hostilities with Melbourne’s criminal underworld, while moonlighting as an unreliable police informant. </p>
<p>Finally, in 1991, we see him back behind bars, lapping up the fleeting spoils of his celebrity status. </p>
<p>Chopper’s success is in no small part dependent on Eric Bana’s unhinged performance as the feckless thug. Bana balances hard man and funny man, this harsh exterior occasionally betrayed by moments of insecurity. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417353/original/file-20210823-25-1utf3gp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=14%2C0%2C1902%2C1077&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Bana as Chopper." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417353/original/file-20210823-25-1utf3gp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=14%2C0%2C1902%2C1077&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417353/original/file-20210823-25-1utf3gp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417353/original/file-20210823-25-1utf3gp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417353/original/file-20210823-25-1utf3gp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417353/original/file-20210823-25-1utf3gp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417353/original/file-20210823-25-1utf3gp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417353/original/file-20210823-25-1utf3gp.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Chopper’s harsh exterior is occasionally betrayed by moments of vulnerability.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Mushroom Pictures and Pariah Productions</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Everything about Bana’s performance is captivating. His high nasal inflection of voice is utterly incongruous with the tough guy facade. He can radically shift the tone of a scene with a flash of his eyes.</p>
<p>With this performance, Chopper catapulted Bana’s career from TV sketch comic to an <a href="https://www.vulture.com/2021/07/eric-bana-is-a-character-actor-at-heart.html">international acclaimed</a> actor.</p>
<h2>A bizarre national curiosity</h2>
<p>The film is quick to acknowledge its undoubtedly embellished source material. A title card declares “narrative liberties have been taken.” As Read quips: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>You know me! Never let the truth get in the way of a good yarn!</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Such nods permit mischievous flourishes of style. We see the murder of “Sammy the Turk” from several, sometimes contradictory, perspectives. The most ostentatious of these has characters take turns describing their role in the incident straight to camera in rhyming verse.</p>
<p>Chopper also taps into Australia’s long-standing fascination with anti-authoritarian figures. Our first feature film was <a href="https://www.nma.gov.au/defining-moments/resources/world-first-film">The Story of the Kelly Gang</a> (1906), controversial even on its release for presenting a bushranger as sympathetic figure.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/true-history-of-the-kelly-gang-review-an-unheroic-portrait-of-a-violent-unhinged-colonial-punk-128463">True History of the Kelly Gang review: an unheroic portrait of a violent, unhinged, colonial punk</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Chopper does not so much glorify Read as present him as a bizarre national curiosity. His iconic handlebar moustache and innumerable tattoos draw attention away from his earless profile. </p>
<p>The film’s humour simultaneously heightens and undermines the cruelty it depicts. Viewers are repeatedly stranded in the farcical chasm between the severity of Read’s actions and his disproportionate response.</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417357/original/file-20210823-27-3cqxra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Bana as Chopper" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417357/original/file-20210823-27-3cqxra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417357/original/file-20210823-27-3cqxra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417357/original/file-20210823-27-3cqxra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417357/original/file-20210823-27-3cqxra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417357/original/file-20210823-27-3cqxra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417357/original/file-20210823-27-3cqxra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417357/original/file-20210823-27-3cqxra.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Chopper taps into Australian cinema’s long standing fascination with anti-authoritarian figures.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Mushroom Pictures and Pariah Productions</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>But Dominik’s film undoubtedly spurred Read’s notoriety on-and-off-screen. In 2018, the miniseries <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7420456/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Underbelly Files: Chopper</a> saw the role reprised by Aaron Jeffery to <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2018/feb/11/underbelly-files-chopper-review-">mixed reviews</a>. </p>
<p>In the wake of Chopper, Read continued to court controversy until his <a href="https://www.theage.com.au/national/victoria/mark-brandon-chopper-read-dies-at-age-58-from-liver-cancer-in-melbourne-20131009-2v8b9.html">death from liver cancer in 2013</a>. From a <a href="https://www.liveguide.com.au/Tours/769572/Chopper_Hammer_Australian_Tour_2012?event_id=762090">comedic speaking tour</a> to his <a href="https://www.smh.com.au/entertainment/books/chopper-urges-ban-of-his-book-20020604-gdfc6a.html">foray into children’s literature</a>, Read was a perennial iconoclast. </p>
<h2>Absurdity meets reality</h2>
<p>On its cinematic re-release two decades on, Chopper retains its shock-factor. The film is aggressively self-aware in its provocations, goading its audience with a conspiratorial wink. </p>
<p>At every turn, Chopper shows up the gulf between deadpan absurdity and brutal reality, daring you to laugh at things you know you shouldn’t. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417358/original/file-20210823-19-gi2ond.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Jail scene" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417358/original/file-20210823-19-gi2ond.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/417358/original/file-20210823-19-gi2ond.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417358/original/file-20210823-19-gi2ond.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417358/original/file-20210823-19-gi2ond.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=338&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417358/original/file-20210823-19-gi2ond.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417358/original/file-20210823-19-gi2ond.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/417358/original/file-20210823-19-gi2ond.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Chopper dares you to laugh at things you know you shouldn’t.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Mushroom Pictures and Pariah Productions</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>This dynamic is revealed early when Read stabs a fellow inmate in a graphically depicted unprovoked attack. While his victim bleeds , Read calmly informs responding guards “Keithy seems to have done himself a mischief” — a wry one-liner that has since entered the <a href="https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Do%20yourself%20a%20mischief">Australian vernacular</a>. </p>
<p>Read is at his most ludicrous during interactions with underworld figure Neville Bartos (Vince Colosimo). When detectives ask Read about a bungled stick-up that ended with a frenzied trip to the hospital, the crim’s denials highlight his own cockeyed logic: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>Why would I shoot a bloke – BANG – and then put him in the bloody car and whizz him off to the hospital at a hundred miles an hour? It defeats the purpose of having shot him in the first place.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>Likewise, Read’s boasting to a news reporter that he is a bestselling author despite being “semi-bloody-illiterate” retains its humour. </p>
<p>Yet, while some of the film’s absurdities will still turn an uneasy grin, at other times its wilful envelope-pushing is tougher to stomach. </p>
<p>Confronting girlfriend Tanya (Kate Beahan) at her mother’s home over alleged infidelity, Read savagely beats her before headbutting the older woman. This brutality is offset with another preposterous remark (“Have a look what you’ve gone and done. Your mum’s upset!”) soliciting the audience for more uncomfortable amusement.</p>
<p>Given the shift in the public conversation about <a href="https://www.abc.net.au/news/2019-09-05/an-australia-free-from-all-forms-of-violence-and-abuse-against/11470584?nw=0">domestic abuse over the last decade</a>, viewers may have a different response than they did 20 years ago. </p>
<p>Will today’s audiences still embrace Chopper? I suspect most will, even if some of its excesses are freshly abrasive. Others will still be put off by its graphic violence and caustic humour.</p>
<p>Chopper won’t please everyone. But, as our titular character opines, “even Beethoven had his critics”.</p>
<hr>
<p><em>Chopper is in select cinemas <a href="https://readingcinemas.com.au/movies/details/7607">from August 26</a>.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/165748/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alison Taylor does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Chopper, with Eric Bana in the title role, detonated on our screens 20 years ago. The film is aggressively self-aware in its provocations but its depiction of domestic violence has not aged well.
Alison Taylor, Senior Teaching Fellow, Bond University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/162858
2021-06-23T20:03:56Z
2021-06-23T20:03:56Z
Meat pies, desert, bloody dingoes: new Australian film Buckley’s Chance brims with dated cultural cliches
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407602/original/file-20210622-17-1oet6ti.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=30%2C10%2C6679%2C4456&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Transmission Films</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: Buckley’s Chance, directed by Tim Brown.</em></p>
<p>It’s a classic trope of Australian cinema: a foreigner comes here and discovers a wild, rugged place, replete with dangerous and surreal animals and dangerous and weird people. </p>
<p>It’s Walkabout, it’s Razorback, it’s Frog Dreaming. It’s been a common motif throughout the history of Australian cinema and literature and has been discussed in a variety of ways.</p>
<p>In the early 19th century, poet Barron Field fetishised the grotesqueness of Australian flora and fauna. Last century, historian Geoffrey Blainey famously wrote about the “tyranny of distance”, and architect Robin Boyd discussed the “Australian ugliness”. </p>
<p>In the 21st century, apart from a few cinematic outliers — Wolf Creek, Red Dog — it seemed as though Australian culture (if there is such a thing as a national culture) had finally relaxed into itself, freed of the necessity for endless definition and redefinition the enduring “wild and rugged” cliches. </p>
<p>As part of a thriving global culture, Australia could make original, cool films like Upgrade or Snowtown without the continued compulsion to try to sell itself in all its banal glory. Alas, director-producer Tim Brown’s new family schlocker Buckley’s Chance puts this suspicion to rest. </p>
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<h2>Tried and true and careless</h2>
<p>An Australian-Canadian co-production, every cliché of the “foreigner in Australia” narrative is recycled here. The film follows Ridley (Milan Burch) who, following his father’s death, is forced to move with his mum, Gloria (Victoria Hill), from New York City to outback Australia to live with a grandfather, Spencer (a sleepy Bill Nighy), he has never met. </p>
<p>Once in the Great Southern Land, Ridley befriends a dingo he rescues from a barbwire fence with whom he immediately identifies. Ridley is also a lone “fish out of water,” separated from his “pack”, forced on an outback survival adventure when he crosses paths with a couple of menacing goons trying to make Spencer sell his property. </p>
<p>Of course, Ridley triumphs and starts loving Australia.</p>
<p>Along the way, he meets a down to earth and wise Indigenous man, Jules (Kelton Pell), who offers appropriately sage advice. He comes across funny sunburned men with very long beards; meat pies eaten by the truckful; and the word “bloody” used ad nauseam. </p>
<p>There are wild animals that are oh so different — goats that run at you, giant snakes — nicknames handed out willy-nilly (“I think it’s an Australian thing,” Ridley’s mum tells him), a town called Budgie’s Knob, an Australian outback that is “very dangerous”. </p>
<p>At one point, Spencer tells Ridley he’ll toss his camera in a “billabong” if he keeps using it, becoming the first Australian, fictional or not, I think I’ve heard use the word outside of a discussion of surfing. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407607/original/file-20210622-13-vob4w9.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Kelton Pell as Jules Churchill" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407607/original/file-20210622-13-vob4w9.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407607/original/file-20210622-13-vob4w9.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407607/original/file-20210622-13-vob4w9.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407607/original/file-20210622-13-vob4w9.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407607/original/file-20210622-13-vob4w9.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407607/original/file-20210622-13-vob4w9.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407607/original/file-20210622-13-vob4w9.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Buckley’s Chance sticks to the tropes, including the wise Indigenous elder guiding the young white boy.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Transmission Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The problem isn’t the film’s adherence to a tried and true formula, or its absolutely rudimentary narrative, but the flat, careless execution of it all. It all seems so terribly contrived in its attempts to affect us both comedically and dramatically. At one point Ridley’s mum says to him: “No more Mad Maxing around the outback” (!). </p>
<p>The music is melodramatic without being emotionally effective, heavy-handed in its attempts to make the viewer feel something (while at the same time oddly anachronistic, like something from a 1950s B-Western). The performances are either tired (Nighy) or over-anxious (Burch, as a kid, can be forgiven for his poor American accent; the same can’t be said for Hill as his mum). </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407608/original/file-20210622-27-swbigv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Bill Nighy under a sign, reading Buckley's Chance backwards." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407608/original/file-20210622-27-swbigv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407608/original/file-20210622-27-swbigv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407608/original/file-20210622-27-swbigv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407608/original/file-20210622-27-swbigv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407608/original/file-20210622-27-swbigv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407608/original/file-20210622-27-swbigv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407608/original/file-20210622-27-swbigv.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">You could be forgiven for thinking you were watching a 1950s B-Western.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Transmission Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>It’s hard to pinpoint a single problem. With better music, some of the lameness of the humour or the stilted, soap opera-esque acting may have been diffused. And the ending might have had the emotional impact it warranted. </p>
<h2>Watchable … but that’s about it</h2>
<p>It’s not all bad; in fact, much of it is watchable (arguably, this makes it less interesting). The footage of the outback is fine — beautiful, panoramic — but so standard in the age of the cheap drone it ceases to be particularly striking. </p>
<p>It’s nice watching a boy and a dingo walking across a giant movie screen, though even the footage of the dingoes is a little disappointing — there’s not enough of it. </p>
<p>One can only imagine the filmmakers are targeting a foreign market (a la Baz Luhrmann’s Australia, which, for all its glossy tedium, is a more skillfully rendered advertisement for Australia than this film). The Australian cliches are too rife, and too on the nose, to imagine any Australian viewer liking this - other than, perhaps, the very young.</p>
<p>There’s even dialogue explaining the origins of the phrase “Buckley’s chance” (it’s obviously very Australian to frequently use this idiomatic gem).</p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407609/original/file-20210622-3585-1uqnuov.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Film still" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407609/original/file-20210622-3585-1uqnuov.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407609/original/file-20210622-3585-1uqnuov.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407609/original/file-20210622-3585-1uqnuov.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407609/original/file-20210622-3585-1uqnuov.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407609/original/file-20210622-3585-1uqnuov.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407609/original/file-20210622-3585-1uqnuov.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/407609/original/file-20210622-3585-1uqnuov.jpeg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Straight out of 1980s Australiana.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Transmission Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>It’s genuinely difficult to understand how this film was made in the 21st century. In their pandering to mainstream clichés regarding Australianness, the same could be said of Wolf Creek and Red Dog.</p>
<p>But Wolf Creek is a lean, mean film, shocking for its violence, an immersive extravaganza that rightfully has an international reputation as a superb horror film. Red Dog features compellingly dynamic performances from humans and animals alike, an offbeat narrative, and is shot astonishingly well. </p>
<p>As a 1980s-style family exploitation film, Buckley’s Chance is a curious artefact. It is possibly worth watching for its fundamental weirdness. But as a narrative film on its own terms,there’s no reason to see it. And there’s Buckley’s many people will do so. </p>
<p><em>Buckley’s Chance is in cinemas from today.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/162858/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ari Mattes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The problem isn’t the film’s adherence to a tried and true formula, or its absolutely rudimentary narrative, but the flat and careless execution of it all.
Ari Mattes, Lecturer in Communications and Media, University of Notre Dame Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/161405
2021-06-20T20:17:46Z
2021-06-20T20:17:46Z
Bring out the popcorn: the best films set to roar into cinemas in the second half of 2021
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/407124/original/file-20210618-16-1mtu68m.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=481%2C8%2C1869%2C1090&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Roadshow Films</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>For cinephiles, one of the greatest blows of the initial COVID lockdown was the closure of cinemas. While we all quickly shifted to the smaller screen in our lounge rooms it just didn’t feel the same. There is something magical about sitting in that darkened room, nestled into those oversized chairs, sharing the 50-foot wide experience with the scent of overly salty popcorn in the air. </p>
<p>For many of us, the cinema is our church.</p>
<p>Thankfully, during 2021 Australian cinemas have gradually reopened their doors. What started as a trickle of audiences has now turned into a flood with many cinemas now <a href="https://www.mediaweek.com.au/australian-cinema-delivers-best-results-since-pre-covid-restrictions/">reporting high attendances</a>.</p>
<p>But what of the films themselves? </p>
<p>Producers and distributors were wary to release their $100 million+ films to less than full capacity cinemas, and many major blockbusters still haven’t been released. </p>
<p>But with cinemas open — and with an almost two-year backlog of big budget and quality international films to be screened — what can we expect in the second half of this year? </p>
<p>We’ve had the cinema famine, now expect the feast.</p>
<h2>The action (sequel)</h2>
<p>For those needing their superhero fix, there is plenty in store, including the sequel to 2016’s Suicide Squad, the creatively named The Suicide Squad (out in August) which sees the return of Harley Quinn and a new band of super-crazy-super-villains trying to, once again, save the world. </p>
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<p>Mel Gibson was one of many directors touted to write and direct before James Gunn eventually got the nod, after previous success in this genre with Guardians of the Galaxy Vol.2 and The Belko Experiment. The first film was massively over-hyped and didn’t live up to expectations, even though it killed at the box office. </p>
<p>Hopefully, Gunn will not disappoint the demanding fan base.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/i-didnt-have-a-superhero-that-looked-like-me-marvels-new-female-culturally-diverse-and-queer-protagonists-mirror-our-times-160917">'I didn't have a superhero that looked like me': Marvel's new female, culturally diverse and queer protagonists mirror our times</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>The auteur director</h2>
<p>As an avid Wes Anderson fan, I am very excited about his latest outing The French Dispatch, out in October. It’s his usual A-team ensemble cast of Bill Murray, Tilda Swinton, Frances McDormand, Adrien Brody and Owen Wilson but with a few new faces. </p>
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<p>The premise is about a bunch of quirky journalists coming together to publish a magazine where the stories come to life, but in true Anderson style it will surely prove to be much more than that. Full of the auteur’s saturated colours and geometrically balanced set pieces against a French backdrop, what’s not to love?</p>
<h2>Australia on the silver screen</h2>
<p>Also slated for October is The Drover’s Wife: The Legend of Molly Johnson, following a pioneering woman and her four children eking out an existence in the bush. </p>
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<p>Leah Purcell adapted Henry Lawson’s 1892 short story into an award-winning play in 2016, and then an acclaimed book in 2019. She will now write, direct and star in the film which will add an Indigenous woman’s perspective to the recent slate of great Australian Westerns dealing with the racial politics of colonial Australia.</p>
<h2>Big, bigger, biggest</h2>
<p>The four biggest holdovers have sent the internet movie chat rooms into a hot slather. </p>
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<p>The new Bond thriller, No Time To Die, sees Daniel Craig in his last outing as the debonair yet ruthless secret agent. Its release has been announced numerous times since and then put back again and again. It’s been scheduled for an October release. Fingers crossed it comes off.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/james-bond-is-more-than-a-sexist-secret-agent-he-is-a-fertility-god-a-dionysus-of-the-modern-era-131040">James Bond is more than a (sexist) secret agent. He is a fertility god, a Dionysus of the modern era</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>The new Ghostbusters movie, Ghostbusters: Afterlife will be out in December, with the original cast reunited again for the first time since 1989’s (not so good) Ghostbusters II.</p>
<p>The first Ghostbusters is such a nostalgic favourite, even if this film is the limpest lettuce of a film out there no-one will care. We’ve waited 30 years for this — and a comedy with Murray and Ackroyd in the lead is something that’s desperately needed in these dark days.</p>
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<p>Denis Villeneuve’s Dune has been hotly anticipated since it was revealed he was set to direct back in 2016. A lot rides on this production. There have been at least a half dozen abortive attempts to get a new version onto the big screen in the past 35 years since David Lynch’s widely disparaged 1984 adaptation. </p>
<p>But producers are confident Villeneuve has got the mix right this time — the rest of us will find out in October.</p>
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<h2>Down the rabbit hole</h2>
<p>Towering over all these films is the monolith that is The Matrix 4. </p>
<p>The original trilogy earned over <a href="https://www.the-numbers.com/movies/franchise/Matrix#tab=summary">US$1.6 billion</a> (A$2.1 billion) at the global box office and the fan base of the franchise has never dissipated. Storylines and production images have been kept under tight security but, considering main characters Neo and Trinity died in the last instalment and are back for this one, it may be more of a prequel than a sequel. </p>
<p>This could well be the biggest film of the year, and it’s out just a few days before Christmas.</p>
<p>Overall, we can expect a range of excellent films appearing before us over the next six months as they release the stopper on the film bottle that was 2020. It’s time to cry “Hallelujah!” and see you in church.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/161405/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Daryl Sparkes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
From The Drover’s Wife to a new Wes Anderson to the long-awaited Dune, it will be good to be back in cinemas again.
Daryl Sparkes, Senior Lecturer (Media Studies and Production), University of Southern Queensland
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/160542
2021-05-26T00:58:01Z
2021-05-26T00:58:01Z
My Name is Gulpilil: a candid, gentle portrait of one of Australia’s best actors
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401502/original/file-20210519-19-1heuiw4.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=18%2C0%2C2098%2C1438&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">ABCG Film</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: My Name is Gulpilil, directed by Molly Reynolds</em></p>
<p>Since the start of his cinematic career, David Gulpilil has occupied the living embodiment of Indigenous Australia on screen. This is a significant responsibility — as is the task of doing justice to Gulpilil’s considerable legacy. </p>
<p>Molly Reynolds’ new documentary portrait, My Name is Gulpilil, allows us to spend time with the man in quiet moments of reflection as he nears the end of his life. Reynolds’ unobtrusive direction provides a platform from which Gulpilil reflects on his work, and shares his philosophy in his own words. </p>
<p>Candid, dreamlike and introspective, this film invites us to join Gulpilil as he searches his memories and tells us his story.</p>
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<h2>The face of Australian cinema</h2>
<p>Gulpilil displays no false modesty when discussing his credentials as a performer in this film. Indeed, to chart Gulpilil’s career is to map the contours of the last 50 years of Australian cinema. </p>
<p>He made his acting debut as a teenager in <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0067959/">Walkabout</a> (1971). His performance displayed the lithe physicality that would define Gulpilil’s magnetic cinematic persona, his demeanour by turns taciturn and inscrutable. </p>
<p>Gulpilil became a fixture of the Australian New Wave with roles in <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0076767/">Storm Boy</a> (1976), <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0076299/">The Last Wave</a> (1977), and alongside a crazed Dennis Hopper in <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0074836/">Mad Dog Morgan</a> (1976). He was present for Australian cinema’s brief commercial peak, in <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0090555/">Crocodile Dundee</a> (1986), and for Phillip Noyce’s emblematic homecoming, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0252444/">Rabbit Proof Fence</a> (2002). </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401506/original/file-20210519-13-1isuniz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Mad Dog Morgan still" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401506/original/file-20210519-13-1isuniz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401506/original/file-20210519-13-1isuniz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401506/original/file-20210519-13-1isuniz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401506/original/file-20210519-13-1isuniz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401506/original/file-20210519-13-1isuniz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401506/original/file-20210519-13-1isuniz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401506/original/file-20210519-13-1isuniz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Gulpilil was a fixture of Australia’s New Wave of the 1970s, appearing in films like Mad Dog Morgan.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">ACBG Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Gulpilil’s creative partnership with Rolf de Heer, a producer on this new documentary, began with 2002’s <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0212132/">The Tracker</a>, and extended through the ambitious <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0466399/">Ten Canoes</a> (2006) and <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt3244512/">Charlie’s Country</a> (2013), for which he won the Un Certain Regard prize for Best Actor at Cannes. </p>
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<p>More recently, Gulpilil appeared in Ivan Sen’s <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4911996/">Goldstone</a> (2016) aligning with a group of new filmmakers reinterpreting genre from an Indigenous perspective, and producing compelling work in the process. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/ivan-sens-goldstone-a-taut-layered-exploration-of-what-echoes-in-the-silences-60619">Ivan Sen's Goldstone: a taut, layered exploration of what echoes in the silences</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<h2>Early prejudice</h2>
<p>Reynolds previously followed Gulpilil for <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt4895498/">Another Country</a> (2015), a companion documentary to Charlie’s Country which observed life in Gulpilil’s Ramingining community in Arnhem Land.</p>
<p>Another Country was a stark condemnation of culture clash and social disadvantage, a cry for self-determination in the face of destructive government intervention. That film was incendiary in its political outlook. My Name is Gulpilil is a more muted, introspective work. </p>
<p>Tania Nehme’s deft editing blends Gulpilil’s present day musings with historical interviews and memorable clips from his cinematic appearances. We hear of Gulpilil’s early life in a mission home, and his casting for Walkabout by director Nicolas Roeg on the basis of his dance prowess. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401507/original/file-20210519-21-110nvc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Black and white film still." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401507/original/file-20210519-21-110nvc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401507/original/file-20210519-21-110nvc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401507/original/file-20210519-21-110nvc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401507/original/file-20210519-21-110nvc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401507/original/file-20210519-21-110nvc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401507/original/file-20210519-21-110nvc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401507/original/file-20210519-21-110nvc7.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=424&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A newsreel captured a young Gulpilil travelling to London to promote Walkabout.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">ACBG Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Excerpts from the <a href="https://www.nfsa.gov.au/collection/curated/newsreels-cinesound-movetone">Cinesound newsreel</a> Walkabout: Star in London chronicle the teenage Gulpilil’s first trip to London and his encounters with prejudice and colonial condescension there: attitudes he countered with humour and grace.</p>
<h2>Defying the odds</h2>
<p>The film’s most affecting material is its depiction of Gulpilil’s current life, spending his days modestly in Murray Bridge, southeast of Adelaide, and travelling to the city to receive cancer treatment. </p>
<p>When the film was commissioned by the Adelaide Film Festival following his 2017 cancer diagnosis, it was expected the documentary production would chronicle his final months, and stand as his epitaph. But Gulpilil has surprised everyone by defying the odds.</p>
<p>In his home, Gulpilil prepares himself for hospital visits, and shares humorous interactions with his dedicated live-in carer, Mary. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/charlies-country-david-gulpilil-confounds-our-romantic-fantasies-28966">Charlie's Country: David Gulpilil confounds our romantic fantasies</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>The film trades in resonant contrasts: the quietude and miniscule scale of his current world; the effort it takes for him to walk from his front door to his letterbox. His suburban back yard is juxtaposed with the enormity of the landscape he inhabits in his onscreen roles, and the distant land he longs for. </p>
<p>The camera accompanies Gulpilil while he returns to locations from his life and his films. Family members visit him at his new home for what will likely be the last time. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401508/original/file-20210519-19-1i1kc1d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Gulpilil in a hospital bed" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401508/original/file-20210519-19-1i1kc1d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/401508/original/file-20210519-19-1i1kc1d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401508/original/file-20210519-19-1i1kc1d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401508/original/file-20210519-19-1i1kc1d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=337&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401508/original/file-20210519-19-1i1kc1d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=423&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401508/original/file-20210519-19-1i1kc1d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=423&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/401508/original/file-20210519-19-1i1kc1d.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=423&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The most affecting footage follows Gulpilil in his contemporary life.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">ACBG Films</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<h2>Struggles</h2>
<p>My Name is Gulpilil does not shy away from Gulpilil’s brushes with the law, his struggles with addiction, and the physical toll of the gruelling treatments he now receives. Gulpilil speaks openly about his impending death, his loneliness, and his plans for his funeral. </p>
<p>As it goes on, My Name is Gulpilil becomes a sensitive portrait of displacement, inviting us to consider both literal and metaphorical separation from ancestral lands, the possibility and impossibility of an eventual, final homecoming. </p>
<p>The film creates deft visual matches, woozily crossfading from aerial drone footage and starscapes to Gulpilil’s paintings and ultrasounds of his body. Reynolds draws an equivalence between the eternal, youthful vigour of Gulpilil in his early films, and the musings of his voiceover in the present day. </p>
<p>More than just a documentary meditation on mortality, the film is a collaborative cinematic self-portrait, including footage shot by Gulpilil on his camera phone. </p>
<p>A testament to cinema’s function as preservation, commemoration and memorial, My Name is Gulpilil celebrates its subject’s legacy — and the imprint he leaves as the star that brought Indigenous Australia to the world.</p>
<p><em>My Name is Gulpilil is in cinemas from May 27.</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/160542/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Nicholas Godfrey does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
When David Gulpilil was diagnosed with cancer in 2017, Molly Reynolds began making this affecting documentary.
Nicholas Godfrey, Lecturer, College of Humanities, Arts and Social Sciences, Flinders University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/159221
2021-05-04T03:45:53Z
2021-05-04T03:45:53Z
‘That’s not us’. Wake in Fright at 50, a portrait of an ugly Australia that became a cinema classic
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/398035/original/file-20210430-15-7bkpwn.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C1%2C1212%2C750&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDB</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>In recent years, <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0067541/">Wake in Fright</a> (1971) has cemented its reputation as one of the most important Australian films. But for decades after its release it was almost impossible to find a version to watch.</p>
<p>In the early 1970s, the Australian film industry was still in its infancy. But Australian television was in full stride, and there were hints of an emerging national cinema.</p>
<p>Directed by Canadian Ted Kotcheff, and adapted from Kenneth Cook’s 1961 novel of <a href="https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/1533656.Wake_in_Fright">the same name</a>, Wake in Fright, which premiered at Cannes in May 1971, emerged at a moment when Australian art and literature was consciously attempting to express a distinct cultural nationalism. </p>
<p>While the comic film <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Adventures_of_Barry_McKenzie">Barry McKenzie</a>, which came out the following year, projected outwards as broad farce, turning the vulgarity of the Australian character back at empire, Wake in Fright turned inwards, finding psychological horror inland. </p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/oqWvWR8KYFw?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<p>European art films were <a href="https://www.rogerebert.com/interviews/interview-with-michelangelo-antonioni">cross-pollinating</a> with Hollywood. A truly international art cinema seemed possible, and the Australian landscape provided a novel setting. </p>
<p>Fifty years on, Wake in Fright remains an uncomfortable and unvarnished portrait of Australia, with unforgettable images of mangled kangaroo corpses and discarded beer cans.</p>
<h2>An ugly country</h2>
<p>The film explores the ugliness at the heart of the Australian project, and the toll of extracting precious metals from the earth. </p>
<p>Teacher John Grant (Gary Bond) leaves his outback schoolhouse, heading back to Sydney for the holidays. He stops overnight in Bundanyabba (a thinly-veiled stand-in for production location Broken Hill), and loses his savings in a night of drunkenness and <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Two-up">two-up</a>, leaving him stranded. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/lets-honour-the-anzacs-by-making-two-up-illegal-again-39680">Let's honour the Anzacs by making two-up illegal again</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>In episodic fashion, John is drawn into the lives of the eccentric locals, including the unhinged Doc Tydon (Donald Pleasence), the languid, repressed Janette (Sylvia Kay) and the roughabout Dick (Jack Thompson, in his film debut). The film culminates in a bloody kangaroo hunt — captured when the production accompanied a <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2016/nov/17/wake-in-fright-director-ted-kotcheff">real-life hunting expedition</a>.</p>
<p>Wake in Fright is filled with moments of wry humour and deadpan surrealism, as when a performatively sombre ANZAC observance momentarily halts the equally ritualised swill at the local RSL. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/398036/original/file-20210430-21-10lh7c6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Production image: aerial shot of a game of two-up." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/398036/original/file-20210430-21-10lh7c6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/398036/original/file-20210430-21-10lh7c6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=437&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398036/original/file-20210430-21-10lh7c6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=437&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398036/original/file-20210430-21-10lh7c6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=437&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398036/original/file-20210430-21-10lh7c6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=549&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398036/original/file-20210430-21-10lh7c6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=549&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398036/original/file-20210430-21-10lh7c6.png?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=549&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">School teacher John Grant stops in a small country town — only to become stranded after a night of gambling.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDB</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Wake in Fright explores the contradictions of “the Yabba”, where grand colonial architecture abuts slag heaps under the oppressive, beating sun.</p>
<p>It remains a compelling portrait of class anxiety and the tensions between metropolitan and rural Australian life. The social economy of the Yabba trades on “aggressive hospitality”, suspicion of outsiders and inferiority complexes, embodied in the local cop (Chips Rafferty, in his final role). </p>
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<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/398037/original/file-20210430-15-1vz37ep.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Production image: a man holds a bleeding kangaroo." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/398037/original/file-20210430-15-1vz37ep.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/398037/original/file-20210430-15-1vz37ep.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=323&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398037/original/file-20210430-15-1vz37ep.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=323&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398037/original/file-20210430-15-1vz37ep.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=323&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398037/original/file-20210430-15-1vz37ep.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398037/original/file-20210430-15-1vz37ep.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/398037/original/file-20210430-15-1vz37ep.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=405&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Wake in Fright is an often ugly portrait of Australia.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">IMDB</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The uptight, superior John takes on a civilising mission through his teaching, while dreaming of the cooling respite of coastal Sydney. Yet it only takes a single night in the Yabba to turn John to beer-soaked savagery. </p>
<p>Tydon, John’s sinister counterpart, makes a mockery of his medical qualifications, embracing his animalistic nature as a perverse badge of honour. Alcohol fuels John’s descent — and the film’s depravity — erupting in the monstrous kangaroo carnage.</p>
<p>At the film’s conclusion, John’s return to the schoolhouse mirrors the opening, implying all this will happen again.</p>
<p>The film’s release has acquired its own mythology: screenings were met with <a href="https://www.nfsa.gov.au/collection/curated/maggie-dence-audience-reaction-wake-fright">stunned silence</a>, or cries of “<a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/2009/jun/19/wake-in-fright-horror-film">that’s not us</a>.”</p>
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<p>Wake in Fright did receive some positive notices, and an extended run in France after its Cannes premiere. But in Australia, the film fell victim to an American distributor uncertain of how to effectively market it to <a href="https://nla.gov.au/nla.obj-1413440601/view?sectionId=nla.obj-1641624114&partId=nla.obj-1413746941#page/n16/mode/1up">Australian audiences</a>.</p>
<p>After its initial release, it quickly fell into obscurity, unless one happened across its single <a href="https://youtu.be/RF6mW1-sroI?t=193">television screening</a> in 1988, which seeded fuzzy, half-remembered impressions of its horrors. </p>
<h2>Lost and found</h2>
<p>For decades it was believed there was no extant film print of sufficient quality to permit restoration for home media release or theatrical re-release.</p>
<p>The National Film and Sound Archive (NFSA) was established in 1984, 13 years after Wake in Fright’s release, and began to acquire all films produced through government agencies, with producers encouraged to deposit prints. But before this films were regularly lost to obscurity. </p>
<p>There was little incentive for commercial distributors to contribute to the NFSA — particularly in cases where films failed to perform at the box office — and until the adoption of digital cinema projection it was standard practice for distributors to destroy release prints after theatrical runs. </p>
<p>It is thought 90% of Australia’s <a href="https://www.nfsa.gov.au/nfsa-most-wanted">silent film history is lost</a>, and Wake in Fright appeared to have suffered the same fate. </p>
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<p>Fortunately, after a protracted search, the film’s editor Tony Buckley located a 35mm negative print in 2004 at a CBS storage facility in Pittsburgh, in a container marked “for destruction”. </p>
<p>It was repatriated to Australia, and restored at the NFSA.</p>
<p>The restored print screened again at Cannes in 2009, and was released theatrically worldwide, marketed as “<a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0067541/mediaviewer/rm1017817344/">a lost classic from the outback</a>.”</p>
<p>It has since inspired a <a href="https://www.currency.com.au/books/australian-screen-classics/wake-in-fright/">monograph</a>, book chapters and articles, a <a href="https://www.filmink.com.au/peter-galvin-cultural-cringe-cinema-history-wake-fright/">production history</a>, a <a href="https://theconversation.com/a-radical-new-adaptation-eviscerates-the-dominance-of-male-voices-in-wake-in-fright-119645">theatrical adaptation</a> and a contemporary <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6660456/">television miniseries</a> remake. </p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/a-radical-new-adaptation-eviscerates-the-dominance-of-male-voices-in-wake-in-fright-119645">A radical new adaptation eviscerates the dominance of male voices in Wake in Fright</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>Wake in Fright’s shift from a fuzzy memory to a cornerstone of Australian cinema demonstrates how malleable film canons are. Fifty years on from the premiere, Wake in Fright’s reappraisal and reclamation demonstrate the roles marketing and distribution can play in shaping our understanding of film history. </p>
<p>It is also a testament to the importance of institutions like the NFSA in reviving and showcasing underseen works — including those that reveal aspects of ourselves we might find uncomfortable.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/159221/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Nicholas Godfrey does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
Wake in Fright premiered at Cannes in 1971 but met with a shocked reaction. It largely fell into obscurity for 40 years, yet is now considered a classic.
Nicholas Godfrey, Lecturer, College of Humanities, Arts and Social Sciences, Flinders University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/159441
2021-04-27T20:04:55Z
2021-04-27T20:04:55Z
Our enduring love of Mad Max’s Australian outback: an anarchic wasteland of sado-masochistic punk villains and ocker clowns
<p>The fifth film in the Mad Max action franchise, Furiosa, has been <a href="https://variety.com/2021/film/asia/george-miller-furiosa-receives-incentives-for-australia-shoot-1234954435/">greenlit for production</a> and will reach theatres in June 2023. Like the critically acclaimed <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1392190/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_0">Fury Road</a> (2015), Furiosa will blend Australian and international talent and funding, and is anticipated to be the largest film ever produced in New South Wales. </p>
<p>A cinematic success story, the Mad Max franchise also presents something of a challenge. Since the 1970s, Australian cinema has been dominated by a national identity agenda, while the action genre has always been more about entertainment than identity; more about commerce than culture. </p>
<p>Indeed, in 2016, when David Stratton and Margaret Pomeranz reviewed the best Australian productions of the previous year, Stratton questioned whether Fury Road could even “count” <a href="https://www.if.com.au/david-and-margaret-reunite-to-talk-the-best-and-worst-aussie-movies-of-2016/">as an Australian film</a>. </p>
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<p>But action is an important part of Australia’s cinematic origin story. Charles Tait’s sensational 1906 bushranger film, <a href="https://www.nfsa.gov.au/latest/story-kelly-gang">The Story of the Kelly Gang</a>, believed to be the world’s first feature length production, is also a notable forerunner of the action genre.</p>
<p>George Miller — the creator, writer and director of the Mad Max franchise — describes the spectacular entertainment delivered by the action film as “<a href="https://www.smh.com.au/culture/movies/are-we-about-to-see-the-first-mad-max-movie-without-mad-max-20210422-p57lhj.html">elemental</a>”. For Miller, action is cinema and has been since the silent era. </p>
<h2>Giving action an Australian accent</h2>
<p>The action film is commonly regarded as the “other” of national cinema, thanks to its limited interest in developing complex characters and narratives. Nevertheless, the Mad Max franchise gave action an Australian accent — even if that accent was <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0079501/alternateversions">inexplicably overdubbed</a> by the US distributor that introduced Americans to Mad Max.</p>
<p>Miller’s 1979 <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0079501/">Mad Max</a> stands out from the Australian genre films of the 1970s and 1980s now commonly referred to as “<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ozploitation">Ozploitation</a>”. </p>
<p>Like other Ozploitation films, Mad Max was the product of low budget guerrilla style film-making. Where it differed was in its quality and the level of success achieved in overseas markets.</p>
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<p>In a decade filled with <a href="https://www.gq-magazine.co.uk/lifestyle/article/mad-max-1970s-movie-car-chases">car chases and crashes</a>, Mad Max stood out in the international market for the inventiveness of its spectacular vehicular mayhem, ultimately <a href="https://www.the-numbers.com/movie/Mad-Max#tab=summary">grossing almost 500 times its budget of $200,000</a> in the worldwide box office. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0082694/?ref_=nm_knf_t2">Mad Max 2</a> (1981) made the most of its much larger budget effectively inventing, as academic Adrian Martin points out, <a href="http://www.filmcritic.com.au/reviews/m/mad_max_2.html">the post-apocalyptic genre of action cinema</a>. </p>
<p>Mad Max 2 set the tone for the rest of the franchise. Here, Miller reimagined the Australian outback as an anarchic wasteland populated by sado-masochistic punk villains and ocker clowns. Max is no longer the ex-cop seeking revenge, but instead a solitary survivor, reluctantly turned hero.</p>
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<p>The story of reluctant heroism continues to be retold throughout the Mad Max films. In <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0089530/?ref_=nm_flmg_prd_24">Beyond Thunderdome</a> (1985) Max is once again transformed into a figure of myth, after helping a group of feral children escape the post-apocalyptic desert. In Fury Road, Max starts the film strapped to the front of a car as a <a href="https://www.bloomberg.com/news/articles/2015-05-12/every-killer-car-in-mad-max-fury-road-explained">human-hood-ornament-cum-blood-bag</a>, and ends once again as something like a hero, after ferrying wise and fertile women to where new life might grow.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/stanza-and-deliver-the-filmic-poetry-of-mad-max-fury-road-42750">Stanza and deliver – the filmic poetry of Mad Max: Fury Road</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>In each, there is an echo of those Australian bushranger films whose anti-heroic protagonists are forced to violence by circumstance. And sometime become mythic heroes in the process. </p>
<p>But more importantly, the franchise continues to explore the visceral pleasures and possibilities of action, in the midst of social and natural threats.</p>
<h2>Action as a global genre</h2>
<p>Furiosa will be a prequel to Fury Road. Miller has described Fury Road as “almost a <a href="https://www.theguardian.com/film/filmblog/2014/jul/28/comic-con-2014-mad-max-fury-road-trailer-release-tom-hardy">western on wheels</a>”, harking back to one of the most popular genres of the silent era: <a href="https://www2.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/news-bfi/lists/10-great-chase-films">the chase film</a>. </p>
<p>Its visual shocks and surprises are delivered primarily through elaborate stunt work, a signature element in the Mad Max franchise — and Australian action more generally. </p>
<p>Action films centre on the spectacle of bodies in motion. With stories often simplified to clashes of good versus evil, they works to surprise and shock with death-defying feats and scenes of violent destruction. </p>
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<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/9JKZKjFjHDM?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
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<p>Consequently, what Sight and Sound critic Larry Gross has dubbed “<a href="https://eprints.qut.edu.au/65639/8/2014-01-02_Prepublication_draft_Goldsmith_Action_and_Adventure_essay.pdf">the Big Loud Action Movie</a>” can break through barriers of language and culture. </p>
<p>Focused on visual spectacle, the action genre is well suited to those multimedia marketing campaigns crucial to blockbuster films’ success. Looking at a list of all time top grossing films worldwide, we see that <a href="https://www.boxofficemojo.com/chart/top_lifetime_gross/?area=XWW">the action genre outperforms any other single film genre</a> at the box office, accounting for seven titles in the top 10.</p>
<h2>Outward looking cinema</h2>
<p>Since the mid-2000s, there has been a move toward an increasingly commercial and explicitly outward looking Australian cinema. The result has been a boom in Australian genre film making <a href="https://www.routledge.com/Australian-Genre-Film/McWilliam-Ryan/p/book/9781138603141">distinguished</a> by a focus on higher budgets and transnational productions, <a href="https://www.austlit.edu.au/austlit/page/18460516">such as</a> Stuart Beattie’s <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1418377/">I, Frankenstein</a> (2014) and Gary McKendry’s <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1448755/?ref_=fn_al_tt_1">Killer Elite</a> (2011).</p>
<p>There were three decades between the release of Beyond Thunderdome and Fury Road. This 2015 reboot became an important milestone Australian cinema’s “<a href="https://www.tandfonline.com/doi/abs/10.1386/sac.4.3.199_1?journalCode=rsau20">international turn</a>”. These films, and the Mad Max franchise more generally, offer a distinctively Australian take on the action genre.</p>
<hr>
<p>
<em>
<strong>
Read more:
<a href="https://theconversation.com/what-do-mad-maxs-six-oscars-mean-for-the-australian-film-industry-55564">What do Mad Max's six Oscars mean for the Australian film industry?</a>
</strong>
</em>
</p>
<hr>
<p>In 2018, Fury Road topped a list of the <a href="https://thenewdaily.com.au/entertainment/movies/2018/07/24/best-australian-films-list/">best Australian films of the 21st century</a> chosen by critics, including Stratton — who once questioned if it was Australian at all.</p>
<p>The fifth film, Furiosa promises to be yet another action blockbuster extravaganza of the sort that dominates the box office worldwide. Shifting the franchise focus from reluctant hero Max to the renegade Furiosa, it will continue a widespread trend toward putting more female action heroes on screen. </p>
<p>And whatever else Furiosa may be, we can count on being spectacularly entertained.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/159441/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Amanda Howell does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The Mad Max franchise offers a distinctively Australian take on the action genre. And the fifth film, Furiosa, promises to be yet another extravaganza
Amanda Howell, Senior Lecturer, Griffith University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/153379
2021-01-27T18:52:43Z
2021-01-27T18:52:43Z
Occupation: Rainfall review: Australia is primed for a well-made alien invasion film. This is not it
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380382/original/file-20210125-15-krzp2c.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=14%2C2%2C1599%2C1061&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">Monster Pictures</span></span></figcaption></figure><p><em>Review: Occupation: Rainfall, written and directed by Luke Sparke</em></p>
<p>Historically, when a sequel to a film was greenlit, you could rest assured this was because the first film made a tidy profit for its investors. With the advent of streaming services like Netflix, this is no longer necessarily the case. And Occupation: Rainfall shows us this. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6774786/">Occupation</a> (2018) made barely anything at the box office or through international sales, and yet became a surprise hit on Netflix in the US. Writer-director Luke Sparke was able to leverage this success to fund this sequel. </p>
<p>Although it has a much bigger budget, Occupation: Rainfall is marginally worse than its predecessor. </p>
<p>Occupation was able to make the most of its dramatically compelling narrative of a group of survivors banding together to resist an alien invasion, and the new film takes off where Occupation ended. It’s two years after the first film, and the war between “the resistance” and the “greys” (the aliens) rages on. </p>
<p>Its main narrative follows Matt Simmons (Dan Ewing) and alien Gary (Lawrence Makoare) as they travel from Sydney to Alice Springs to find out about “Rainfall,” an alien super weapon sent to Earth eons earlier. On the way, they pick up Peter Bartlett (Temuera Morrison) who presides over a rural community established in the first film. </p>
<figure>
<iframe width="440" height="260" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/f8tofjqqrV8?wmode=transparent&start=0" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen=""></iframe>
</figure>
<p>Meanwhile, Wing Commander Hayes (Daniel Gillies) oversees a giant underground resistance compound, performing secret evil experiments on captured aliens in order to develop a weapon that will win the war. </p>
<p>Virtuous Amelia Chambers (Jet Tranter) takes up her own war against Hayes, and the epic existential war between aliens and humans is mirrored in these internal tensions within the resistance. </p>
<p>The whole thing is bookended by two drawn out, noisy battle sequences between the humans and aliens.</p>
<p>If you haven’t seen the first film, it all seems fairly shrill and incomprehensible. </p>
<h2>A failure of spectacle</h2>
<p>There are fantastic alien invasion films that make the most of the conflicts between different species, and, in this, say something interesting and original about life on Earth. </p>
<p>John Carpenter’s cult hit <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0096256/">They Live</a> (1988) brilliantly critiques American class inequality through its exploration of invasion, and <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0043456/?ref_=nv_sr_srsg_3">The Day the Earth Stood Still</a> (1951) says more about the atomic age at the beginning of the Cold War than virtually any other film of the period. </p>
<p>Then there are the more tedious variety: epic war films in which the antagonists happen to look weird and talk in a weird way. These can be effectively done, as in <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0120201/">Starship Troopers</a> (1997), but Occupation: Rainfall just does not have the budget to fulfil its premise. </p>
<p>And without a sufficient budget, this kind of epic cinematic spectacle inevitably fails. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380386/original/file-20210125-13-1erlrq8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Production image." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380386/original/file-20210125-13-1erlrq8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380386/original/file-20210125-13-1erlrq8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380386/original/file-20210125-13-1erlrq8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380386/original/file-20210125-13-1erlrq8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=400&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380386/original/file-20210125-13-1erlrq8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380386/original/file-20210125-13-1erlrq8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380386/original/file-20210125-13-1erlrq8.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=503&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The visual effects used don’t stand up to 2021 standards.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Monster Pictures</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>A budget of A$25 million makes it, by Australian standards, a very well resourced film (Occupation was made for A$6 million). But Occupation: Rainfall tries to emulate its much bigger-budgeted brethren like <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0499549/">Avatar</a> (2009), made for US$237 million, rather than making its own mark. And this will always be a losing game when it comes to economies of scale.</p>
<p>The visual effects here may have been passable 25 years ago (and look at about the level of the Australian TV show <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0112174/">Spellbinder</a> (1995-97) in places), but are laughably bad by contemporary standards. </p>
<p>The spaceships attacking Sydney in the opening battle sequence look like they’ve been rendered using Paint 3D, and we can never suspend our disbelief when looking at the alien companion animals accompanying Matt and Gary on their trip. </p>
<p>For some projects this wouldn’t matter, but building a convincing and immersive world is absolutely critical for this kind of fantasy narrative. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380381/original/file-20210125-21-5dke0w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=2%2C2%2C1898%2C789&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="A spaceship battle" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380381/original/file-20210125-21-5dke0w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=2%2C2%2C1898%2C789&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380381/original/file-20210125-21-5dke0w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=251&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380381/original/file-20210125-21-5dke0w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=251&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380381/original/file-20210125-21-5dke0w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=251&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380381/original/file-20210125-21-5dke0w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=316&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380381/original/file-20210125-21-5dke0w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=316&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380381/original/file-20210125-21-5dke0w.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=316&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Occupation: Rainfall tries for a visual spectacular — but doesn’t have the budget to pull it off.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Monster Pictures</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Occupation: Rainfall just doesn’t use its budget creatively or effectively – unlike, for example, Leigh Whannell’s superb Australian science-fiction film <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt6499752/">Upgrade</a> (2018), with a budget of less than a third of Occupation: Rainfall. </p>
<h2>Light and dark</h2>
<p>The narrative is unclear and underdrawn. The relationships between the humans and the aliens is never clearly delineated. There are no clear back stories to the characters that might anchor viewers to the world (unlike a film like <a href="https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0094631/">Alien Nation</a> (1988), which treads similar territory). </p>
<p>It’s not all bad. Aspects of the design are good – there’s an appealing colourfully kitsch quality to the lighting – and the main narrative structure of a pair of mismatched buddies travelling across country facing numerous hazards will always be a winner. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380383/original/file-20210125-23-sfkvdz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="An alien." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380383/original/file-20210125-23-sfkvdz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380383/original/file-20210125-23-sfkvdz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380383/original/file-20210125-23-sfkvdz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380383/original/file-20210125-23-sfkvdz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380383/original/file-20210125-23-sfkvdz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380383/original/file-20210125-23-sfkvdz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380383/original/file-20210125-23-sfkvdz.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The alien costumes ‘look like objects your mum might have made you for book week in the 1980s.’</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Monster Pictures</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The look of the greys is appealingly bodgie – their costumes and laser guns look like objects your mum might have made you for book week in the 1980s – and Dan Gillies and Temuera Morrison give strikingly assured performances. </p>
<p>But the strength of these actors backfires in terms of the film as a whole, as we become acutely aware of the Home and Away-ish acting of most of the supporting cast. This was a big enough film to throw Ken Jeong in at the end once they reach Pine Gap, but even his comic relief seems lame, doing little to improve the film. </p>
<figure class="align-center zoomable">
<a href="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380384/original/file-20210125-19-15uu7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=1000&fit=clip"><img alt="Temuera Morrison, Ken Jeong and an alien." src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380384/original/file-20210125-19-15uu7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/380384/original/file-20210125-19-15uu7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380384/original/file-20210125-19-15uu7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380384/original/file-20210125-19-15uu7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=399&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380384/original/file-20210125-19-15uu7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380384/original/file-20210125-19-15uu7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/380384/original/file-20210125-19-15uu7t.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=502&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px"></a>
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The strength of Temuera Morrison’s performance unfortunately highlights the weaknesses in the rest of the cast.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Monster Pictures</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>The bigger-than-usual budget for an Australian film also plays against Occupation: Rainfall: it makes one painfully aware of the waste. Imagine how many better films could have been made with this money! </p>
<p>It is great to see a sincere genre film coming out of Australia. But Occupation: Rainfall becomes tedious pretty quickly. Given its colonial history, it would seem Australia is primed for a thoughtful, well-made film about alien invasion. This is not it.</p>
<p><em>Occupation: Rainfall is in Australian cinemas now</em></p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/153379/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Ari Mattes does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The sequel to 2018’s Occupation, this new alien invasion film is overly ambitious, both incomprehensible and shrill.
Ari Mattes, Lecturer in Communications and Media, University of Notre Dame Australia
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.
tag:theconversation.com,2011:article/144062
2020-08-12T05:06:35Z
2020-08-12T05:06:35Z
Boundary-pushing films are more than their clickbait headlines
<figure><img src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/352391/original/file-20200812-18-10tfa34.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&rect=0%2C0%2C1777%2C997&q=45&auto=format&w=496&fit=clip" /><figcaption><span class="caption">
</span> <span class="attribution"><span class="source">The Trouble With Being Born/Panama Film</span></span></figcaption></figure><p>The Melbourne International Film Festival is currently running online, but one movie announced at their program launch won’t be streaming. </p>
<p>At the end of July, Sandra Wollner’s The Trouble With Being Born was <a href="https://www.nme.com/en_au/news/film/melbourne-international-film-festival-pulls-the-trouble-with-being-born-from-virtual-program-2718966">withdrawn</a> after the festival received “expert advice and following further community consultation”. </p>
<p>The festival cited concerns over the “<a href="https://twitter.com/MIFFofficial/status/1288942442918682625">safety and wellbeing</a>” of the public. Undoubtedly, the Austrian film was a controversial choice to begin with – it portrays (albeit not explicitly) a man’s sexual abuse of a robot child. </p>
<p>Its premiere in Berlin earlier this year was divisive, earning both audience <a href="https://www.eviemagazine.com/post/a-german-film-about-a-man-and-his-robot-daughters-sexual-relationship/">walk-outs</a> and a <a href="https://www.screendaily.com/reviews/the-trouble-with-being-born-berlin-review/5148160.article">Jury Prize</a>. </p>
<p>This film is the latest in a long line to push audiences to extreme discomfort. So how far is too far for cinematic representation? </p>
<h2>‘Rivers of viscera’</h2>
<p>Historically, moral outrage about boundary pushing movies has proven an endlessly renewable resource. Thomas Edison’s 1896 recording of <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IUyTcpvTPu0">a kiss</a> in close up was termed “absolutely disgusting” by the painter John Sloan, <a href="http://www.artandpopularculture.com/The_Kiss_%281896_film%29">who wrote that</a> “police interference” was warranted. </p>
<p>Racy films of Hollywood’s <a href="https://www.bfi.org.uk/news-opinion/news-bfi/lists/10-great-pre-code-hollywood-films">pre-Code era</a> of the early 1930s, right through to the late 1970s were often given a “<a href="https://www.npr.org/2016/03/03/469041022/c-is-for-condemned-a-nun-looks-back-on-47-years-of-unholy-filmmaking">condemned</a>” rating by America’s Catholic Legion of Decency, implying “see this movie and go to Hell”.</p>
<p>Stanley Kubrick’s A Clockwork Orange (1971) and David Cronenberg’s Crash (1996) sparked <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/uk_news/543594.stm">fierce media backlash</a> upon their release in Britain.</p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Film still" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/352396/original/file-20200812-16-wxfiv0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/352396/original/file-20200812-16-wxfiv0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352396/original/file-20200812-16-wxfiv0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352396/original/file-20200812-16-wxfiv0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=363&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352396/original/file-20200812-16-wxfiv0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=456&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352396/original/file-20200812-16-wxfiv0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=456&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352396/original/file-20200812-16-wxfiv0.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=456&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">A Clockwork Orange didn’t legitimately screen in the UK until 2000.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Warner Bros</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Films including Claire Denis’s Trouble Every Day (2001) and Bruno Dumont’s Twentynine Palms (2003) prompted Artforum critic James Quandt’s fierce invective against “<a href="http://www.artforum.com/inprint/id=6199">New French Extremity</a>” in cinema in 2004. </p>
<p>Exasperated, Quandt lamented:</p>
<blockquote>
<p>a cinema suddenly determined to break every taboo, to wade in rivers of viscera and spumes of sperm, to fill each frame with flesh, nubile or gnarled, and subject it to all manner of penetration, mutilation, and defilement.</p>
</blockquote>
<h2>Inciting outrage</h2>
<p>The way society engages with films whose subject matter alone makes us uncomfortable is problematic. </p>
<p><a href="https://www.smh.com.au/culture/movies/melbourne-international-film-festival-dumps-android-child-sex-film-20200725-p55fdr.html">Clickbait headlines</a> reduce challenging or offensive films to one-line synopses that incite outrage or disavowal. Similarly, reviews tend to zero in on a film’s shock factor, and so these extreme factors become the film’s broader cultural touchpoints.</p>
<p>Gaspar Noé’s <a href="https://filmdaily.co/obsessions/irreversible-shocking-15-years-later/">Irreversible</a> (2001) is known as the ten-minute rape scene film; Larry Clark’s <a href="https://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-srv/style/longterm/movies/videos/kidsnrkempley_c029f5.htm">Kids</a> (1995) is the adolescent promiscuity movie; Pier Paolo Pasolini’s <a href="https://www.nytimes.com/1977/10/01/archives/film-festival-salo-is-disturbing.html">Salò</a> (1975) the shit-eating torture flick. </p>
<p>It’s not that these descriptors are inaccurate, it’s that they are hopelessly reductive and prime knee-jerk disgust rather than critical engagement. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Film still" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/352398/original/file-20200812-23-omsqye.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/352398/original/file-20200812-23-omsqye.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=393&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352398/original/file-20200812-23-omsqye.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=393&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352398/original/file-20200812-23-omsqye.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=393&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352398/original/file-20200812-23-omsqye.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=494&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352398/original/file-20200812-23-omsqye.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=494&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352398/original/file-20200812-23-omsqye.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=494&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">Salò is remembered for its scenes about defecation over its critique of fascism.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Produzioni Europee Associati</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>As Variety critic Jessica Kiang observes in <a href="https://variety.com/2020/film/reviews/the-trouble-with-being-born-review-1203516473/">her review</a> of Wollner’s film, it is unavoidable that the depraved aspects overshadow the nuance: </p>
<blockquote>
<p>it will be a hard task to get people to mull over ancillary issues in a film destined to be shorthanded to ‘the child sex-robot movie’.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>But the fact that the film departs from its paedophile storyline to explore other, less salacious forms of exploitation – such as an old woman using the android to alleviate grief – is lost. </p>
<p>Walking away from Salò, one is far more likely to recall the visceral horror of torture than the characters’ protracted ruminations on power, or that the film opens with an “Essential Bibliography” including works by Blanchot and Beauvoir. But these elements of the film matter, and should not be brushed aside for the sake of outrage.</p>
<h2>Balanced distinctions</h2>
<p>How far is too far? Legally, in Australia, this comes down to the <a href="https://www.alrc.gov.au/publication/national-classification-scheme-review-ip-40/issues-paper/the-current-classification-system/">Classification Act</a>. Considerations when classifying include community standards, the impact of a film’s content, and the context in which this content is presented. </p>
<p>Classification boards look beyond a film’s synopsis to try to strike a balance between the freedom and protection of individuals. This depth of consideration is crucial: it aids a distinction between gratuity and purpose. </p>
<p>(While The Trouble of Being Born is yet to be classified in Australia, <a href="https://twitter.com/MIFFofficial/status/1288942442918682625">it was approved to be shown at MIFF</a> under a cultural exemption.)</p>
<p>Consider the British Board of Film Classification’s ruling on the explicit sexual imagery in Lars von Trier’s Antichrist (2009). Trier’s film was <a href="https://www.cineuropa.org/en/newsdetail/109071/">deemed permissible</a> for audiences 18+ based on a determination that the film’s purpose was not arousal. </p>
<figure class="align-center ">
<img alt="Film still" src="https://images.theconversation.com/files/352401/original/file-20200812-14-yt2e8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&fit=clip" srcset="https://images.theconversation.com/files/352401/original/file-20200812-14-yt2e8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=600&h=255&fit=crop&dpr=1 600w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352401/original/file-20200812-14-yt2e8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=600&h=255&fit=crop&dpr=2 1200w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352401/original/file-20200812-14-yt2e8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=600&h=255&fit=crop&dpr=3 1800w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352401/original/file-20200812-14-yt2e8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=45&auto=format&w=754&h=320&fit=crop&dpr=1 754w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352401/original/file-20200812-14-yt2e8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=30&auto=format&w=754&h=320&fit=crop&dpr=2 1508w, https://images.theconversation.com/files/352401/original/file-20200812-14-yt2e8h.jpg?ixlib=rb-1.1.0&q=15&auto=format&w=754&h=320&fit=crop&dpr=3 2262w" sizes="(min-width: 1466px) 754px, (max-width: 599px) 100vw, (min-width: 600px) 600px, 237px">
<figcaption>
<span class="caption">The Antichrist was allowed to screen uncut in the UK when it was determined the sex scenes were not about arousal.</span>
<span class="attribution"><span class="source">Zentropa Entertainments</span></span>
</figcaption>
</figure>
<p>Rather, the board deemed Antichrist was “a serious drama exploring issues such as grief, loss, guilt and fear” and therefore the imagery, in context, was “exceptionally justified” for contributing to the film’s themes and characters. </p>
<h2>Considered viewing</h2>
<p>If the words “child android sex film” or “shit-eating torture flick” make your skin crawl that is a good thing. It would be more worrying if they didn’t. </p>
<p>Fear of confronting cinema is often linked to an assumption that movies exist only for entertainment and pleasure. Enjoyment is one response we might seek in cinema, but it is hardly the medium’s sole purpose. </p>
<p>Extreme films are intended to confront, disturb and provoke – and they’re certainly not for everyone. </p>
<p>But to censor or dismiss them outright based on our discomfort with their very premise is to preclude considered appraisal, not only of the films themselves, but also of one’s own stance on the limits of good taste or the boundaries of artistic expression. </p>
<p>Provided a film has been cleared legally, the question of how far is too far should be a question for individual viewers.</p><img src="https://counter.theconversation.com/content/144062/count.gif" alt="The Conversation" width="1" height="1" />
<p class="fine-print"><em><span>Alison Taylor does not work for, consult, own shares in or receive funding from any company or organisation that would benefit from this article, and has disclosed no relevant affiliations beyond their academic appointment.</span></em></p>
The Trouble With Being Born has been withdrawn from Melbourne International Film Festival – but individual viewers should be able to decide what films they want to see.
Alison Taylor, Teaching Fellow, Bond University
Licensed as Creative Commons – attribution, no derivatives.