Cinema

Gadfly 268 By Robert Macklin Screenwriters often talk about their main character’s ‘arc’. I first heard it during my Fellowship to the Australian Film and Television School. It’s a nifty shorthand to describe the principal’s role in the story, the ups and downs before the big climax and the happy ending. Hollywood has a few favored conventions for that trajectory, but not one comes close to the wild parabola of Kevin Rudd’s journey to the latest plot point in his story: appointment as Australia’s Ambassador to the United States. In 2007, I spent many pleasant hours with Kevin at his Brisbane home and in Canberra researching his biography. It was published by Penguin that year, and a second edition arrived in 2008 when he snatched The Lodge from the gnarled claws of John Winston Howard. Since then. Kevin’s arc has taken some wild twists and turns. And part of the reason is what I divined from those long talks. For Kevin - like his successors Tony Abbott and especially Scott Morrison - believes he’s on a mission from God. It began in early childhood in a divided home where the young Kev was the favoured son of a devout Catholic mother to whom he was deeply attached. They shared the horror of homelessness after the death of his father, spending nights sleeping in the family car. Indeed, after she died, he wore her wedding ring on his little finger. And though he later presented as nondenominational, it was this religious passion that motivated his unrestrained outrage at Julia Gillard’s ‘coup’ that untimely ripped him from The Lodge. Fellow God-botherer Tony Abbott was happy to turn the misogynistic screws until Julia was broken by Labor’s hard men and Kevin returned to ‘save the furniture’. That was yet another plot point in the Rudd screenplay on the public stage. But already a new prayerful pathway was taking shape. It was one that I suspected had long been dormant in his imaginings: He’d become SecretaryGeneral of the United Nations. Now that was a big one. It would at last allow him to shout like Jimmy Cagney in the climax to his arc in the classic White Heat – ‘Made it, Ma, top of the world!’ So it was off to America where the former First Lady soon to turn Presidential candidate, Hilary Clinton became the target of his undoubted charm. He even crossed the political line back home and lobbied the new PM, Malcolm Turnbull for support. But then, from the depths of hell came Donald J Trump and the whole delicate fabric collapsed. By now Kevin’s arc was coming to resemble that of the Prophet Job and he even grew a white beard to accompany Job’s anguished appeal in Chapter 30 verses 20-30: ‘I cry out to you God but you do not answer…You turn on me ruthlessly; you snatch me up and drive me before the wind; you toss me about in the storm…’ But then, Hosannah! The latest rival God-botherer, Scott Morrison surrenders to his own religious mania and gathers more Ministries than even the Good Lord himself could juggle, then he crashes to earth, almost squashing an eight-year-old boy. And Lo! The happy warrior Anthony Albanese, whom Kevin had made Deputy PM while saving the furniture is now in The Lodge. Redemption! So, from Ambo to Washington DC and the final prize beckons once more, the golden orb atop Jacob’s ladder - the UN Secretary-Generalship. Hollywood hasn’t seen an arc like it since Cecil B DeMille.

Reading—A beer with Baz

Three full schooners remained untouched on the bar table and the owners’ eyes focused on the wide flat screen television in the front bar. The cricket commentators were intent on filling every moment with babble as Dave

Warner stalled on 196 runs. References to ‘snicko’, ‘DRS” and ‘spider cam’ had Bazza shaking his head. At least Richie Benaud would remain silent, at key points in the game, and let the cricket ‘do the commentating’.

Warner finally sliced the ball through slips for four runs.

The commentators went ballistic and the television lit up like a poker machine at its most dishonest. A kaleidoscope of colours and figures flashed across the screen. The shrill of the commentators mimicked a jackpot, with the cheating incident in South Africa in 2018 now hero washed into a ‘mistake’.

As Warner leapt skywards, three schooners left the table with the speed of a cover drive, clinked and rehydrated the slips cordon around the television with a generous pour.

Mick beamed.

“Howzat eh? Well…..that has to go down as the greatest sporting achievement of 2022. What a way to end a run of low scores……..The media wrote him off and Warner scores a double ton in the heat.”

Bazza took a long sip.

“Ah……you’re seduced by the moment, Mick. I would rate Ash Barty’s win at the Australian Open in January higher. You know……an Australian woman had not won the Open since 1978. She showed incredible discipline and skill over two weeks and a ton of grace in victory.”

Mick began a verbal backhand but ‘Know All’ Ron silenced him with a clearing of his throat.

“Listen up you blokes…….”

Bazza and Mick leaned in.

“There is no doubt both were outstanding achievements but cricket and tennis are limited international sports.”

‘Know All’ Ron paused and took control of the conversation in Lionel Messi like fashion, before striking. “Now……. soccer, or or more correctly football, is a world game. The Socceroos achievement at this year’s World Cup is, hands down, the international achievement of the year.”

The speed and certainty of ‘Know All’ Ron’s comment had both stretching their necks.

Silence.

Bella, the publican, approached and began wiping their table.

Bazza looked up.

“Now Bella…….we are just chatting about the best Australian international achievement in 2022. What do you reckon; the double ton Warner just scored in a furnace at the MCG, Ash Barty’s victory at the Australian Open in January or the

Socceroos efforts at the World Cup earlier this month?”

Bella screwed her face.

“Are you blokes kidding? Best Australian international achievement in 2022?……… well without question it has to be …….Penny Wong.”

Bazza grinned and Mick raised his eyebrows.

“Penny Wong?……who does she play for, Bella?”

“Australia, Mick……but she never bowled a cricket ball, picked up a tennis racquet or kicked a round ball. In fact, she managed to do it without playing any games at all.”

Have a beer with Bazza at john.longhurst59@gmail.com

by Wendy Simes Journal of the Moruya & District Historical Society Inc. September 2022

In a lis ng of car number plates registered in Moruya to the end of 1919 one car owner’s name stands out. It is that of Irene F Jermyn. She is the only female on the list. Her car is listed as a Studebaker.

It is doub ul that Irene was s ll driving the car in 1919 as in February 1918 she was the driver of a car involved in a fatal accident. In all there were 7 people on board when Irene lost control about two to three miles south of Moruya on the road to Bodalla. In her evidence to the Magisterial enquiry Irene basically said she made a correc on to the steering as she thought she was too close to the embankment but must have over corrected and lost control of the vehicle which rolled throwing the occupants out. She said she had four months of experience driving having had instruc on from three men from the garage at Goulburn and had experience driving on country roads. Sergeant Michael Kea ng examined the accident site and saw tracks of the car some 150 yards back from the accident which showed the car appeared to be swerving from side to side of the road. Mrs Isabelle Macartney-Noake one of the passengers had been thrown from the car and died from a broken neck at the scene. The other passengers all escaped with slight injuries. Rev. Macartney-Noakes, his son John, Mrs Robert Dawson and Cathleen and Beryl Jermyn were the other passengers. The Magistrate on the inquiry returned a verdict of accidental death. In spite of the severity of the accident the car was not badly damaged and was driven back to Moruya.

Rev. Mcartney-Noakes le the district a er the accident but the Jermyn family remained as Willoughby Jermyn was the Shire Clerk. During 1919 Irene is men oned in the paper as the Supervisor of the Red Cross Spinning Circle but no further men on is made of her driving. In October 1919 she died suddenly at home, somehow managing to break her neck in a fall in the bedroom.

Mr Jermyn was evidently not put off driving as in the Moruya Examiner of the 22nd January 1921 he is reported as leaving Moruya at 5.20am in his Studebaker motor car (presumably the same car) with eight occupants and luggage. He arrived in Goulburn in me for his passengers to catch the mid-day train from Goulburn. He returned to Moruya the same day with a short break at Braidwood and Araluen.

The Jermyn’s son Hugh also evidently enjoyed his driving. In February 1937 Hugh William Jermyn, solicitor of O’Connell Street was fined £10 for having driven a car at a dangerous speed on the Princes Highway. He was reported to have come down Bulli Pass at about 45mph (72km) and drove from Bulli to Woonona increasing his speed to 50 mph (80km).

Which model Studebaker Irene was driving is not known. The above image is from Wikipedia.