Cinema Papers July-August 1975

PSON k o T IC C IN E M A

Picnic at Hanging® The Man from H/mr K d ^ C X V a t h e r P a rt II

ptian to m of Liberty T ^ rT fia l of Billy jack The Removalists Shadowman The Taking of Pelham 123 The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz Nada Alice Doesn't Live Here Anymore SUPPLEMENT:

AUSTRALIAN FEATURE CHECKLIST 1906-1975 JULY-AUGUST, 1975

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THIS MAN (JACK THOMPSON) AND THIS MOVIE WERE VOTED THE BEST AT THE AUSTRALIAN FILM INDUSTRY AWARDS theshearerswifts

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JACK THOMPSON • REG LYE • MAX CULLEN • ROBERT BRUNING • PETER CUMMINS

JOHN EWART • SEAN SCULLY • GRAEME SMITH • JERRY THOMAS • and introducing LISA PEERS Produced by GIL BREALEY • MATT CARROLL • Directed by KEN HANNAM THE SOUTH AUSTRALIAN FILM CORPORATION a ROADSHOW release

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FILM COMMISSION The AUSTRALIAN FILM COMMISSION is at 60 Pitt Street, Sydney.

Its postal address is: Box 3984, G.P.O., Sydney.

Its telephone number is: 27 7051.

The Commission wishes to open direct lines of communication with all sections of the industry. It is em­ barking on a period of the widest possible consultation in all States.

Placed by Dept, of the Media.

SYDNEY

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Actor Jack Thompson, Lisa Peers and Festival director David Stratton celebrate the opening of the 1975 Sydney Film Festival in the Sebel Town House Function Centre.

Actress Kate Fitzpatrick and Cars That Ate Paris director Peter Weir chat at the 1975 Sydney Film Festival cocktail party.

<£j)0b>THE FUNCTION CENTRE

The Sebel Town House, 23 Elizabeth Bay Road, Elizabeth Bay, 2011.

THE HOUSE OF STARS This glamorous name was given to the Sebel Town House at a time when a lot of actors and actresses were accommodated at our hotel while appearing as gueststars in a locally-produced television series.

Since then many more celebrities have been hot guests or guests-of-honor at receptions held in the Funt, tion Centre, and the Sebel Town House has become firm­ ly established as The House of Stars’.

Recently, we were honored to play host to the dis­ tinguished delegation of film directors who attended the 1975 Sydney Film Festival.

In recognition of the film directors’ influence on the successful ascent of any ‘star’, perhaps we should change our sub-title to: The House of Stars and Star-makers.

Sydney's leading venue for: Exhibitions . . . Fashion Parades . . . Conventions . . .

Board Meetings . . . Product Introductions . . . Lectures . . . Luncheons . . . Dinners . . . Cocktail Parties . . .

Wedding Receptions . . .

Telephone: Sydney 358.3244 Canberra 95.7375 Melbourne 62.5170 Brisbane 52.2295 Adelaide 42.4858 Perth 21.5992 or Telex Sydney 20067

AUSTRALIAN FILMS from the

VINCENT LIBRARY Australian Film In stitu te 1975 Catalogue Available ($ 2) 79-81 CARDIGAN STREET, CARLTON SOUTH, 3053.

TELEPHONE: 347 6888 TELEGRAMS: FILMINSTITUTE/MELBOURNE

365A PITT STREET, SYDNEY, 2000 TELEPHONE: 61 2743 TELEGRAMS: FILMINSTITUTE/SYDNEY

Distributors have no interest in film as a rt, or in giving the public an opportunity to see good films* — W illia m S. Bayer

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Book now for next year at this year’s rates (16mm $25, 35mm $35). Our new or forthcoming movies are listed below in bold type.

Antartida, Antonio Das Mortes, Asylum, Before the Revolution, Blood of the Condor, Black God White Devil, Bofl, British Sounds, Campamento, Companeras and Companeros, Days and Nights in the Forest, Death of a Bureaucrat, Dillinger is Dead, Distant Thunder, Dream Life, Dyn Amo, Etc. Etc. Etc., Film in Revolution: an in­ troduction to The Traitors, Fil Portrait, First Charge of the Machete, Going Home, Hallelujah the Hills, How to Draw a Cat, In the Name of the Father, Introduction to the Enemy (Jane Fonda), Jackal of Nahueltoro, Kashima Paradise, La Marseillaise, La Villeggiatura (16mm & 35mm), Lancelot du Lac, (Bresson’s latest film), Le Petit Soldat, Le Voyage de Monsieur Guitton, Letter to Jane, Lion’s Love (Agnes Varda), Living with Peter, Macunaima, Made in U.S.A., Punishment Park, Reminiscences of a Journey to Lithuania, Rocket Ship (the original Flash Gordon), The Soldier and the Three Sisters, Spirit of the Beehive, Strike, Terra em Transe, Themroc, Throw Away Your Books, Let’s Go Into the Streets, Tout va Bien, The Traitors, Tupamaros, Valparaiso/Valparaiso, When the People Awake, Wind From the East.

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A rticles and Interviews Steven Spielberg: Interview 106

John Moran The International Women’s Film Festival Sue Spunner Glenda Jackson: Interview

Sue Spunner and Pat Longmore

109 111

Susan Sontag: Interview

Sue Johnston

112

1001 Nights and 120 Days: The erotic cinema of Pier Paolo Pasolini

Noel Purdon

'

113

Restrictive Trade Practices Legislation and The Film Industry: Part II

Antony I. Ginnane

116 .

—

Jack Thompson: Interview

Steve MacLean and Zoo Adler

Steven Spielberg interviewed: 106

The Exhibitors Antony I. Ginnane Hoyts Greater Union Village Animation: Disneyland to Dismaland

Zoo Adler Political Cinema: Intention and Effect John O’Hara Bruce Smeaton: Interview

Ivan Hutchinson and Peter Beilby

120

123 124 125 126

Glenda Jackson interviewed: 111

139 142 165

Features The Quarter Cannes 75 Antony I. Ginnane Melbourne and Sydney Film Festivals Australian Feature Film Checklist

Animation: Disneyland to Dismaland: 139

1906-1975 Andrew Pike, Graham Shirley, Joan Long and Ross Cooper Picture Previews: Picnic at Hanging Rock and The Man From Hong Kong Production Survey Filmography: Noel Monkman Andrew Pike Columns Soundtracks Ivan Hutchinson

104 127 129 137 152 159

The erotic cinema of Pier Paolo Pasolini: 113

169 170 176

Film Reviews The Removalists Jim Murphy The Godfather Part II Mark Randall The Taking of Pelham 123 John C. Murray Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore

Virginia Duigan

The Day of the Locust previewed in Cannes 75: 127

147 148 148

Nada Lindsay Amos The Trial of Billy Jack Freya Mathews Sunday Too Far Away Jack Clancy Shadowman John O’Hara The Phantom of Liberty Meaghan Morris

149 150 151 154 155 157

Book Reviews

173

Image and Influence Mick Counihan Final Cut Roger O. Thornhill The Hamlyn Series Bill Collins

1975 Melbourne and Sydney Film Festivals report: 129

Editorial Board: Peter Beilby, Philippe Mora, Scott Murray Managing Editor: Peter Beilby Contributing Editors: Antony I. Ginnane, Rod Bishop, Graham Shirley, David Elfick Business: William Mora; Design and Layout: Keith Robertson Assistance: Andrew Pecze, Steve Brook, Maurice Perera, Pat O'Neill, Richard Cooney, Robert Novak, Zoo Adler, Kay Mathews, Norman Ingram Correspondents: London — Jeremy Thomas, Tom Ryan. Los Angeles — Dave Hay Secretary: Glenda Dodd Photography: Virginia Coventry Advertising: Melbourne — Barbara Guest Tel. 3295983. Sydney — Zoo Adler Tel. 261625 Printing: Waverley Offset Publishing Group Distribution: Consolidated Press Pty. Ltd. Cinema Papers is produced with financial assistance from the Film, Radio and Television Board of the Australia Council. Signed articles represent the views of their authors and not necessarily those of the Editors. Whilst every care is taken of manuscripts and materials supplied for this magazine, neither the Editors nor the Publishers accept any liability for loss or damage which may arise. This magazine may not, by way of trade, be reproduced in whole or in part, without the prior permission of the Copyright owner. Cinema Papers is published every three months by Cinema Papers Pty. Ltd. 143 Therry Street, Melbourne 3000 (Tel: 3295983); 365A Pitt Street, Sydney (Tel: 261625). Copyright Cinema Papers, July/August, 1975.

Front Cover: Frame enlargement from Georges Franju's Shadowman, shown at this year's Melbourne and Sydney Film Festivals. (Reviewed on page 155.) ,

'Recommended price only.

SHAKEUP W hile a large segm ent of the Australian film industry was attending this year's Cannes Film Festival, back at home shock waves passed down the cor­ ridors of the Media Department, the Film Development Corporation and the Film, Radio and TV Board.

The former Media Minister, Doug McClelland, had never been very popular with the production side of the local in­ dustry. Frequently accused of consorting with the multi-national distribution en­ tities, he was attacked again recently when his controversial letter to Jack Valenti was made public.

McClelland’s failure to formulate legislation concerning Tariff Board recommendations for divorcement and divestiture also brought him in for criticism. His permanent head Jim Oswin was also unpopular. A former commer­ cial TV executive, Oswin was accused of not having the feel for the production re­ quirements of an embryonic industry.

Film, Radio and TV Board chairman Phillip Adams never made any secret of his dislike for McClelland, and his article in The Age on April 16, set his objections out clearly.

Then, on May 22, Adams announced his resignation as chairman of the Film, Radio and TV Board.

Shortly after, The Age Insight team, together with columnist John Pinkney, ran a series of ‘exposes’ on the dealings of the then almost defunct Australian Film Development Corporation.

Notable was the attempted slur cam­ paign against Tom Stacey, the AFDC ex­ ecutive director. It was alleged that Stacey had abused his position by putting forward a reputed Sydney criminal, Abe Saffron, as a potential in­ vestor in AFDC-funded projects. Stacey was also accused of attempting to sell both his own and his wife’s film scripts here, and while abroad on AFDC-funded trips.

Shortly after The Age publication of the Insight series, Senator McClelland — and most of his ministerial colleagues — became the victim of a Cabinet re-shuffle and was transferred to the Special M inistry of State. Dr Moss Cass, previously Minister for the Environment, became the new Minister for Media.

Phillip Adams, who claims he resigned his Film and TV Board post to con­ centrate on production work on his forthcoming film of David Williamson’s play Don’s Party, is known to be able to relate a good deal better with Dr Cass than with his predecessor. Cass is cer­ tainly anxious to establish pipelines into the industry, and Adams may well be one of them.

The new permanent head of the department is Jim Spigelman, Prime Minister Whitlam’s former private press secretary. His appointment has been widely criticised in the press as “jobs for the boys” .

Spigelman’s film interests are un­ disclosed. However, he is known to have played an active part in the formulation of new Labor media policy.

Meanwhile, the long-advertised posi­ tion of executive director of the Film, Radio and Television Bord has been fill­ ed by Lachlin Shaw, fo rm e rly of Australian Associated Press.

FILM COMMISSION The Australian Film Commission is now operative. Spawned from the 1972 Tariff Board report into the industry, the Commission’s Bill was bounced back and forth through both Houses of Parlia­ ment for what seemed an eternity. Finally on July 1, the Commission opened for 104 — Cinema Papers, July-August

business round the corner from the now defunct Australian Film Development Corporation.

While the AFDC was controlled by the Media Department, the Film Commission — which takes over the responsibilities of the AFDC as well as Film Australia — is under the direct wing of the Prime Minister’s Department. It is rumored in some quarters that the days of the Media Department are in fact numbered. This would certainly seem to be the case if the Labor government falls.

The new Media Department’s respon­ sibilities now lie solely with the Australian Information Service and the Australian Government Publishing Service.

While the Commission is in fact a Whitlam responsibility, cynical observers have pointed out that in the event of the Prime Minister being too busy to con­ centrate on the Commission’s day to day problems, the duty will fall to the Special Minister of State, who has responsibility for anything the PM is unable to work on.

In the recent cabinet re-shuffle this port­ folio went to ex-Media Minister Douglas McClelland.

The Commission is headed by a full­ time chairman, Ken Watts (former general manager of the ABC) and two fu ll-tim e m em bers, Pat C ondon (producer) and Peter Martin (ex-Media advisor). One of the full-time members is responsible for p ro je ct support, marketing and management services; the other for Film Australia. There are seven part-time members, including Graham Burke (managing director, Village Theatres), John McQuaide (ex­ president of the Theatrical Amusement Employees’ Association) and Jill Robb (producer with the South Australian Film Corporation). There is also provision for the liberal use of outside consultants.

The Commission Is already being in­ dependently lobbied by local filmmakers and industry groups prior to its policy meeting on July 23, and a number of suggestions have been put forward for fund disbursement. Among the more strongly supported is a proposal to allocate 20 per cent of production funds to development projects; 30 per cent to experimental or art house material; and 50 per cent to commercial projects.

It has been suggested that a number of projects (among them Cecil Holmes’ Call Me By My Proper Name, and John Lamond’s Australia After Dark) which were rejected by the AFDC, would have qualified for AFC assistance.

According to the report of the Interim Board, the Commission is also em­ powered to make grants and loans, as well as investments. Further, an appli­ cant will be entitled to know the identity of the assessor on his project and object to them if he so desires.

There has certainly been a hiatus in local production over the past few months, but now that the Commission is operative production can perhaps move forward again.

TRADE PRACTICES ACT Litigation is abounding at the moment under the Trade Practices Act, and the outcome of present disputes and policy m aking should help to set down guidelines for that brave soul who tries to take on the integrated local film industry.

The Commission has a number of cases pending, following the decision In the Sharp Corporation case. Sharp were fined $100,000 by Mr Justice Joske in the Australian Industrial Court for “false and misleading advertising” , and the publici­ ty departments of local exhibition and distribution groups have, since then,

been a little bit more cautious with ex­ travagant claims.

The Commission’s attitudes towards mergers is also becoming evident. Some 105 applications for clearances have been made to the Commission, and to date only about 10 have been refused. Of the 10, three have subsequently received authorizations, following the intervention of the Attorney-General. In two other cases the Commission refused clearance on the grounds that competition was substantially lessened, but granted authorizations because the mergers were in the public interest. The com­ panies were apparently able to show the cost savings which were to flow from the mergers as well as other benefits.

However, the Commission refused to grant a clearance to Nationwide Funeral Merchandise Pty. Ltd.’s acquisition of H. H. Webb and Co. Ltd., taking the view that “the integration between the leading supplier and a substantial group of customers must further weaken the com­ petitive structure of the industry, and will have the effect of substantially lessening both actual and potential competitive conduct at both the manufacturing and retail levels of the industry.”

The test is the likely impact of the ac­ quisition on competition. This obviously depends on the structure of the industry, the behavior of the firms in it at the time of making the a pplication for a clearance, and the likely behavior of firms after the clearance.

The Commission’s closing words may be of interest to exhibition majors con­ sidering further expansion: “The acquisi­ tion will eliminate from the market a funeral director which has been a signifi­ cant influence on the Melbourne market, especially in the matter of price competi­ tion and its unorthodox approach” .

The Commission’s views on anti­ competitive behavior also got an airing recently when it ruled on the tied house arrangements prevailing between NSW hotels and brewers, by which hotels are restricted to sell only one brand of beer.

The Commission concluded such an arrangement was anti-competitive.

Film Industry franchise agreements are not dissimilar to the ‘tying’ system the breweries use on hotels. Again, this deci­ sion will be awaited anxiously.

CANNES As reported elsewhere in this issue, Australian filmmakers were represented officially at the Cannes Film Festival this year by a delegation headed by the Media Department’s film chief Roland Beckett and the Australian Film Develop­ ment Corporation’s executive director Tom Stacey.

Films screened included The Man From Hong Kong, Petersen, Plugg, Inn of the Damned, Sunday Too Far Away, Stone, The True Story of Eskimo Nell, Between Wars, Promised Woman and The Removalists.

Media Department and Overseas Trade personnel provided an information stand in the foyer of the Carlton Hotel, and a so-called hospitality suite was available down the Croisette at the Mar­ tinez Hotel, where the officials of the delegation and some producers stayed.

Sources indicate that many of the producers were dissatisfied with the un­ democratic decision-making structure of the delegation, and lists of alleged inef­ ficiencies are apparently circulating.

Yet, a number of foreign sales were negotiated at Cannes as a result of the expedition. It is difficult, however, to ascertain whether individual producers acting under their own steam (but still with help from the Export Incentives Scheme of the Department of Overseas Trade) could have achieved as much.

Sales tor Brian Trenchard-Smith’s The From Hong Kong (a Movie C o m p a n y -G o ld e n H a rv e s t c o ­ production) were negotiated by both Cathay Films and BEF, as well as the director himself. Cathay apparently made sales in most countries for record amounts for an Australian film and it is reported that Fox have taken up U.S. and Canadian rights for a US$1 million up­ front guarantee.

Man

Tim Burstall’s Petersen was taken by a major in the U.S. for a rumored five figure advance, and as a result sold to South America and Europe.

South Australian Film Corporation’s Sunday Too Far Away was taken by Columbia Warner for Britain. Richard Franklin’s True Story of Eskimo Nell was sold to Canada, the U.S., Greece, Israel, Britain and France. Inn of the Damned and Plugg sold to Italy, Germany and Spain, and Between Wars to several countries, including Canada. It is reported that The Removalists was the least successful of the films on view.

However, the producers are still waiting for details on possible sales.

Participating filmmakers are urged to put their views on the 1975 expedition to the newly-established Film Commission as soon as possible, so that plans for Australian participation in the 1976 Cannes festival can be carefully con­ sidered.

DISTRIBUTORS EXPAND A new development in Australian distribution-production has been the re­ cent move by Filmways and Seven Keys into the International market. While BEF set the trend with The Man From Hong Kong — a co-production with Golden Harvest — the creation by Filmways and American associates of Austamerlcan Productions for Goodbye Norma Jean marked another step forward.

Veteran AIP director Larry Buchanan has produced a Harlow-like biography of Norma Jean Baker between the ages of 16 and 21. Filmways contribution to the US$130,000 35mm technlscope produc­ tion was little more than they would have had to pay for Australian distribution rights, but in return they are obtaining 50 per cent of all world revenue.

Filmways are also negotiating with prominent London-based independent distributor Scotia-Barber to buy produc­ tion titles jointly for Britain, South Africa and Australia. This appears to have been an attempt to keep pace with Andrew Gaty’s Seven Keys Films, who have been operating a London office since May 1, and are obtaining films for British release.

The British market is a depressed and conservative one, and Gaty’s flair for showmanship and marketing may well make a sizeable dent in It — unless other established British distributors endeavor to combine to keep him out.

Gaty has also tied in with the Robert Stigwood organization (he paid a sizeable upfront for Tommy during preproduction, and the returns so far have been record breaking) and a Chicago-based syndicate to produce a multi-million dollar production, The Entertainer, with Jack Lemmon, Ray Bolger and Sada Thompson.

THE QUARTER

What this means for Australian production is not clear. Certainly these distributors will now be building up an in­ formed knowledge of world markets, and a network of international contacts previously unavailable to an Australian producer.

Further, an Australian producer may now be assured of a West End release If (reportedly like David Baker and The Great McCarthy) he distributes with Seven Keys.

MARKET SLUMP The Common Market debate which swept Britain recently deeply divided the film community, and in so doing pointed up some of the more obvious problems that are going to have to be overcome if the Industry Is going to properly recover from the withdrawal of American produc­ tion capital.

On the one hand the executive side of the Industry — the exhibition-distribution combines and their production affiliates — came out in favor of staying in the Market.

Graham Dawson, chief executive of the Rank Organization, summed up their position: “Anything that is good for Britain’s trade must be good for the film industry; (and) anything that opens up new markets for our skills and talents must be a good thing for the film Industry The militant Federation of Film Unions, however, took a different stand. Alan Sapper, the union’s secretary, pointed out that the Italian, French and German Industries are already saturated with national product and that over the two and a half years of market membership no new money has been attracted to promote production.

Sapper also made the point that now EEC productions count as quota films the British quota has been effectively cut by half, from 30 per cent to 15 per cent.

This, coupled with spiralling Inflation, Sapper contended, will destroy the

British film industry: "The overall effect of our membership . . . has been the con­ tinuing scarcity of finance . . . lack of production . . . and the growing threat. . . of unfair competition from the EEC in registration, finance and designation . . . ” The referendum of course resulted in Britain staying in the EEC. It remains to be seen which view of the future of the In­ dustry will be the correct one, but Sapper’s assessment of the present is certainly accurate.

At the time of the referendum only three British films were in production: Gene W ilder’s The Adventures of Sherlpck Holmes’ Smarter Brother; Michael Klinger’s Shout at the Devil; and Red Silverstein’s The Swiss Conspiracy.

Things have never looked worse for British film production.

ATTENDANCE POLL Amid the recent revelations about the importance of the Australian market to the American film industry, questions have again been raised about the size and composition of the local audience.

Everyone is well aware that cinema attendances are on the rise, and that cinemagoing habits have changed, but until very recently the Australian film in­ dustry has shied away from any indepen­ dent attempts at market research, preferring to gamble on that elusive quality referred to as “a nose for show­ biz” .

Last year, however, the Department of the Media commissioned Australian National Opinion Polls, McNair Anderson Associates, and Morgan’s to survey cinema audience attendances. Their results are now available.

The poll revealed in its main finding that the most avid group of cinemagoers were 14-17 year olds with an average yearly attendance of 16.9 visits, com­ pared with 8.9 for the 24-34 year old group. Attendance figures for other age groups are tabulated below:

Age Group

Cinemagoers yearly Attendance

14-17 y rs ................. 90.4% 16.9 times 18-24 ..................... 92.5% 15 times 25-34 ..................... 79.9% 8.9 times 35-plus.....................45.3% 6.4 times The poll also revealed that the audience is an affluent one. On the A-BC scale of socio-economic grouping used by the pollsters, 75 per cent of cinemagoers fall into the A-B group and 75.1 per cent into the C group.

The poll also shows that the cinema attracts both sexes equally, and debunks the myth that couples stop going to the movies regularly once they are married: in excess of 78 per cent of married 25-34 year olds attended in 1974 compared to 87 per cent of their single counterparts.

The survey also revealed a marked preference amongst some filmgoers to attend drive-ins rather than cinemas: the 14-17 and 35 plus groups clearly ex­ pressed a preference for ‘hard-tops’, while the 18-34 group were equally divid­ ed In their preferences for ‘hard-tops’ and drive-ins.

Polls conducted in the United States seem to bear out these findings. A survey conducted by Opinion Research Cor­ poration of New Jersey for the Motion Picture Association of America found 72 per cent of the filmgoing population to be between the ages of 12-30 — a group which, surprisingly, represents nearly 40 per cent of the total population.

APOCALYPSE NOW Following the success of The God­ father Part II (the two Godfathers have now grossed in excess of US$100 million), Francis Ford Coppola’s network of companies is planning Its future development carefully.

Sometime back Coppola bought a slice of Don Rugoff’s New York-based Cinema 5 distribution set-up, and he is keen to develop as complete control over his future productions as possible.

At Cannes, Coppola’s representatives

were selling interests in a series of future productions solely on the basis of his reputation. The first of these, currently titled Apocalypse Now, has been described as a satirical treatment of the Vietnam war.

Godfather Part II personnel Gary Fredericksen, Fred Roos and Dean Tavoularis visited Australia recently to promote Coppola’s Mafia sequel and discussed with the form er Media Minister, Doug McClelland, the possibili­ ty of film in g the p ro d u c tio n in Queensland.

What response Australian film unions would have to this ‘talent’ invasion is un­ certain. No cast or crew details have been discussed, but a strong line was taken by local unions to so-called co­ productions at a Media Department seminar held last June on overseas in­ volvement in Australian production. The recent conflict-ridden Universal co­ production The Sidecar Racers certain­ ly did not win any friends.

HITCHCOCK Alfred Hitchcock has now completed shooting at Universal Studios on what may possibly be his last film. Titled Deceit, the film stars Karen Black, Bruce Dern and Barbara Harris. The screenplay is by Ernest Lehman (N orth By Northwest). Bernard Herrman has been approached to do the score.

Filming on the largest sound stage at Universal and on locations at San Fran­ cisco was not without its complications.

Studio heads blanched as the production proceeded uninsured. Hitchcock, now with a heart pacemaker, was not pronounced sufficiently fit by insurance company doctors for the usual produc­ tion insurance to be Issued. Sets were closed, but worries persisted on the $6 million production.

Some four weeks into shooting Hitchcock dismissed the secondary male lead Roy Thinnes (a contract Universal player on view in The Hindenberg), and replaced him with a virtual unknown.

Deceit’s basic story revolves around a kidnap murder mystery involving a medium and her lover. It will be Hitchcock’s first major venture into the ' occult.

POLANSKI Goffredo Lombardo, head of the Italian production-distribution company Titanus, recently announced that he had signed Roman Polanski to direct a $10 million spectacular entitled Pirates. Two of America’s biggest stars have been approached for the production, but no details were disclosed.

Other Titanus projects for 1975-76 in­ clude Mandrake, with Alain Delon and Cyrano de Bergerac, with Jean-Paul Belmondo.

LAURENTIIS Dlno De Laurentiis, the Italian producer of Serpico and Death Wish, now resident in New York, Is set to produce 14 films in the next two years with a working budget of US$50 to $60 million. Already US$5 million has been outlayed in purchasing rights.

One of the films, Buffalo Bill and the Indians, is the first of a three-film deal with director Robert Altman. The $7 million film will star Paul Newman.

Also scheduled for production is King of the Gypsies, based on a forthcoming book by Peter Maas, who wrote Serpico, and to be produced and directed by Peter Bogdanovltch. John Guillermin will direct Face to Face, starring Liv Uilmann and Erland Josephson, for Swedish TV, and a feature version will be produced.

Raging Bull, starring Robert de Niro, will be directed by Martin Scorcese. Other titles include One Just Man, The Last of the Mohicans, and an untitled production starring Charles Bronson.

The Man From Hong Kong: launching Australia into the International market at this year’s Cannes film festival.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 105

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questions but not all of them. She ex­ pected me to be George Cukor and I never thought that she would lend herself to me so totally, and on my first time out.

Getting back to “ Duel” , were you aware of all the symbolism that was to be read into it?

All the symbols I read about which others had read into Duel, I had en­ countered or had anticipated along the way. But in shooting from scene to scene they were not my orimary concern . . . well, not consciously at least. What I was really striving for was a statement about the American paranoia. In this country we’re getting crazier and crazier and, for me, Duel was an exercise in paranoia.

How much did you add to the original TV version of “ Duel”?

Recently, film student John Moran visited Hollywood as production assistant with film commentator Bill Collins, filming interviews with various actors, producers and directors. While at Universal Studios, Moran was able to interview 27 year old Steven Spielberg, director of the widely acclaimed film Jaws.

In the American film industry, Spielberg’s rise to prominence is still talked of with as much enthusiasm as it was four years ago. On finishing a film course at the University of Southern California in 1970, he went straight to work at Universal.

Within a year he was directing episodes of such television series as Name of the Game, Marcus Welby and Colombo.

During this time he made the TV films Duel (1971) and Something Evil (1972). For Duel he shot 90,000 feet of film in ten days to create what is regarded in the US as a minor classic. So popular was its reception that it was released theatrically in Europe and Australia. Impressed with his skill and exuberance, producers David Brown and Richard D. Zanuck selected Spielberg for Jaws after the three had combined successfully on Sugarland Express (1973), his first feature in the US. At the time that you were making “ Duel” did you realize that it was go­ ing to be such an important film?

Well, I realized that the story was important and that the statement it was making was important, but because it was being made for televi­ sion I didn’t think that it would ever find a theatrical audience in Europe and Australia, and also a cult audience in this country. It’s funny, because at the time I thought it would make a terrific television film.

And, technically speaking, at the Cannes Film Festival we were illegal­ ly qualified, or should have been dis­ qualified, with Sugarland Express as a first-time-out feature, for a new director.

For that matter, the “Name of the Game” episodes you directed would have to qualify as they were feature length. .

They were feature length and they were also made in ten days. It was a good training ground because you were taught right away to make a film as economically and as sound and airtight as possible. You’d vir­ tually edit the film before you’d shoot it and that way you’d be sure that what you made would not end up on the floor.

The “Night Gallery” episode you

In order to release the film overseas I had to add 15 minutes before CIC would accept it as a feature. I added three scenes, two of which I wanted to put in from the very beginning, but couldn’t, and one scene the producer George Eckstein wanted to have in.

For curiosity’s sake, which ones where they?

I added the scene where the car pulls up to the railroad crossing and ' the truck tries to push the car in front of the oncoming train. It went over very well and added about an extra five minutes. I loved the idea that the train and the truck were allies; later on in the film the truck signals the train by blasting twice on its horn and the train answers by blasting back twice.

Another scene added (because a lot of people wondered with the TV version, why the man didn’t turn back and go home) was the sequence where the school bus locks .bumpers with the man’s car. At this point the truck is way ahead of the car, or it is assumed to be, so I had the truck turned around coming back through the tunnel to get him. Originally I wanted to indicate this, that the truck would go to all lengths to tor­ ment and terrify this man.

The other sequence which was part of the extra 15 minutes was the new main title. In the TV version it began on the open road whereas in the European (and Australian) versions it began with the camera on the bumper of the car; you are the car as it leaves the darkened carport.

made with Joan Crawford, was that the first thing you shot?

Well, it was the first professional film I shot. I did short films of my own at college.

But it must have been a formidable task in your first big job at Universal, directing Joan Crawford.

I was in a state of shock because I got that job on coming straight out of college. In my mind I suppose I wasn’t fully prepared to accept a professional career that early. All I really wanted to do was to make my own films and dabble in small in­ dependent ventures. But I got this chance, two months after signing with Universal. So there I was on a sound stage with 60 professional ■crew members and I was supposed to be directing them. It was a very traumatic experience.

The impact of “Duel” was that it worried people. Was it the same on TV?

Was she co-operative?

S h e w as t e r r i f i c , t o t a l l y professional. She relied on me to direct her more than I ever thought she "would. When I first met her, I thought she was going to tell me how' to direct her. In fact, she kept com­ ing up to me asking one question after another about her character and about what she should be doing.

I was prepared to answer some of her

“ All the symbols others read into Duel, I had encountered or anticipated along the way.

But in shooting from scene to scene they were not my primary concern. What I was really striving for was a statement about the American paranoia. Duel was an exercise in paranoia.”

Not really, because of the commer­ cials. It did have impact and there was a lot of talk when the show was aired twice. But you get to a point where your suspense cannot sustain itself past a commercial, unless you turn off the set or put your hands over your face until the film comes on again. We tried to structure the film into ‘act’ breaks so that you could hold interest, but believe me, the rating ‘needles’ are going to fall Cinema Papers, July-August — 107

STEVEN SPIELBERG

30 or 40 points every time there’s a commercial break.

Well, they’re from three different walks of life. Each man has his job to do and each one is, in some shape or form, an authority figure in his own sphere. One is the chief of police of the town and is responsible for the safety of the people on the beach. He has also left New York City retreating not so much in cowardice, but retreating to protect his children.

But in the island town in which he settles, the shark is there and he has to deal with the same violence and evil which he had to tolerate in New York City.

That character is contrasted against an ichthyologist who is quite rich and somewhat of a dilettante (the Dreyfuss part). He knows all there is to know about sharks and so intellectually he feels superior to the shark.

Then there is the Robert Shaw character, who just kills sharks for a living, a shark hunter. He has vivid memories of a previous shark attack and he talks of this in a six-minute scene in the third act.

Do you think, then, that TV films can be taken as seriously as cinema features?

I think the concept of anything can be taken seriously if the medium you choose to display your work happens to be television. I think people can read past the scanning lines and see what you’re trying to say.

“Something Evil” with Johnnie Whittacker was rather “Exorcist” oriented . . .

The film of The Exorcist hadn’t come out at that time and Robert Klaus had already written the screenplay. But in the process of making Something Evil I heard about the William Blatty novel and on reading it said: “ My goodness, there are great similarities between the two” .

It was good to see Johnnie Whit­ tacker doing something really sinister on the screen . . .

Why do you say third act?

The film is very carefully struc­ tured — there are three different acts.

Yeah, that’s why I cast Johnnie. I purposely cast him because of Fami­ ly Affair; I thought that any kid who was that nice can’t be all sweetness and delight.

When you talk of structure, you’re really referring to pace . . .

But it was a very effective television film, “Something Evil” . . .

Well I did a lot of experimenting in that. It was the first time in a television film that hot windows were used; those were all sets and I ‘burned-up’ all the windows to give a kind of hellish effect outside. I don’t know if you remember, but anytime anyone passes by a window, they almost disappear because the win­ dow is so bright they fade out and become stick figures until they pass beyond the light. I thought that the house should be surrounded by a wholly white hell-heat and it worked very well.

Do you like working on subjects concerning the supernatural?

I think Jaws is somewhat super­ natural in a small way in that we have been able 'to control all maneaters except the shark. The central character in Jaws is really the shark and it’s not so much super­ natural, but this particular shark can sense, more than other sharks, when the best time to attack would be. He attacks at night when they are asleep on the boat or when they are looking towards the sun and are therefore blinded by it. He is a witty creature, and there is some supernatural in­ fluence which people are going to read into the film. Sharks do not have rational, intelligent behavior.

When they eat, they are just eating machines and our shark is also an eating machine but every once in a while it outwits the three humans who set out to catch it.

How do you see the nature of the conflict between the three main characters?

108 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Sugarland Express: top Goldie Hawn during location shooting in Texas. 2nd top fugitives Lou Jean (Goldie Hawn) and Cloris Poplin (William Atherton) plot their next move'in their headline-making flight across Texas. 3rd top Captain Tanner (Ben Johnston) prepares to confront civilians who have taken the law into their own hands. Above Steven Spielberg (left) outlines a scene for Goldie Hawn, William Atherton and Michael Sacks. Below Roy Scheider and Robert Shaw on the set of Jaws.

Yes. At one stage Jaws moved too fast and I had to slow it down. It begins very quickly and the nature of the controversy in the small town is that the city fathers and the town select-men are worried that if it’s an­ nounced that people have been savaged by sharks off their coast, then it would kill the entire summer season. So, because this is a major controversy in the film, there is a lot of dialogue and argument. A lot happens at the beginning of the film which is out of control. The police chief, our central character, can’t cope with all the problems; he can’t hire the shark hunter Quint, he can’t kill the shark himself because he’s afraid of the water and at the same time he can’t control the town. So there’s this swirl of confusion that surrounds this guy and it gives the first act of the film a very staccato in­ fluence.

The second act is much slower than the first and concerns finding out what kind of shark it is. Also there is the controversy of whether the town is going to open the beaches for the Fourth of July weekend or close them: whether they’re all going to go on welfare for the winter or profit from the summer tourism.

In the third act comes the decision' to hire Quint and pay the $10,000 he requires. After this it is all at sea hunting the shark. So I suppose the film is fast-slow and then slowfast with the third act building to rather a frenzied climax.

How different is your interpreta­ tion of Peter Benchley’s screenplay from his novel?

They’ve become two different statements. The book was about something Peter Benchley was in­

terested in, beyond sharks, while the film is based on subject matter that interests me, beyond sharks. The book goes off in one direction and the film goes off in another, but at the end they converge and become the same.

As far as the script was concerned I made a lot of changes, virtually every day. I had the actors come in to rehearse and they would come up with ideas and we would change the script accordingly. There were improvisational readings; often I would wake up in the middle of the night and write down some idea and shoot it the next day. A lot of it was free expression.

How long was “Jaws” in the making?

Well, I spent about five or six months just editing it. It’s been two years in the making: six months pre­ production, six months shooting and six months post-production, not to mention preparations for release.

Certainly it’s the most commercial venture I’ve undertaken. Duel made $7 million and was put together for $375,000 but the scale of Jaws is greatly in excess of that.

Have you got your next project in view at this stage?

I’ve got one in mind but it’s nothing like Jaws, Duel or Sugarland Express. It’s called Bingo Long and it’s the story of the travelling black baseball teams in this country in the 1930’s. For me it’s very interesting because I love baseball and I love the whole era of Sachel Page and all the great black ballplayers who were not allowed to play with White Anglo­ Saxon teams. This is in the mid­ thirties when these teams would go into a town and cakewalk down the street, get everybody excited and play a nice baseball game in the local stadium against the firehouse nine.

It’s very funny and at the same time makes a certain comment.

“Sugarland”, really your second feature, while critically acclaimed was ill-received at the box-office.

Was this a disappointment to you?

Yes it was, though I think 1 was more angered than disappointed.

First of all they didn’t sell the film properly. Sugarland never opened big and in some cases never opened at all. People saw that it was Goldie Hawn’s film and thought it was small — you know, a real ‘teddy bear’!

Also there was the title: most people thought it was a kid’s film. When it opened in New York there were lines of kids waiting outside the theater expecting to see Willie Wonka and the Chocolate Factory. That was a pity because when the film com­ pleted its run it was doing very good business.

In essence, “Sugarland” was fic­ tionalized fact. Did you find any in­ herent problems in working within this framework inasmuch as sticking to what actually happened?

Continued on page 190

THE INTERNATIONAL W OM EN’S FILM s"Sp"n" FESTIVAL The role of women in film will come into sharp focus in August this year when the International Women’s Film Festival commences screenings in all capital cities of films made by women around the world.

The idea of this festival grew out of the Sydney Womenvision Conference in 1973, when women involved in media discussed the paucity of oppor­ tunities available to them in the film and TV in­ dustries. They realized that a film festival was one of the means of correcting this imbalance. In September 1974, the Film and Televison Board granted a loan of $20,000 to get the Festival off the ground.

The following article by Sue Spunner highlights the achievements of women directors, and ex­ plains the need for an International Women’s Film Festival. ★

★

*

In spite of all the difficulties and barriers which have confronted women directors in film in­ dustries around the world, some have created feature length narrative films. Women directors have played a role in every country which has ever had a film industry. Why then doesn’t anyone know of their existence?

From the earliest days of the industry, women have had the creative incentive to make films.

Alice Guy-Blanche, for example, was Leon Gaumont’s secretary, and while he was busy creating filmmaking equipment, she took on the job of making short demonstration films. Her first film, La Fee aux Choux, made in 1896, was completed six months betore Melles made Une Partie de Cartes. ' Guy-Blanche stayed on at Gaumont’s as their artistic director until 1905, then moved to Ger­ many and later to the U.S., where her directorial career continued until 1925.

Another of the early pioneers of American filmmaking was Lois Weber. Her prolific career began in 1913 as part of a filmmaking team with her husband. However, Weber soon began directing her own films, and in 1916 was dubbed by a popular magazine as “the highest salaried woman director in the world today” .

By 1920, she had about 75 one and two reelers to her credit and several longer films. Weber made six more films in the twenties and thirties, and her last, White Heat, was completed five years before her death in 1939.

In the same period other women made fleeting appearances as directors: Frances Marion with Just Around the Corner and The Love Light; Mary Pickford, directing herself in three films; and Lillian Gish, directing her sister Dorothy in Remodelling Her Husband.

Yet, while M arion was an established screenwriter and Pickford and Gish the darlings of the screen, these excursions into the role of director were never taken seriously. They were only regarded as peripheral to their ‘real’ — sup­ portive — work.

By the 1930s women had been effectively clos­ ed out of executive and creative positions in the American film industry. Those few who remained were restricted to low-budget, second-rate work.

Only one woman-, Dorothy Arzner, managed to crack the system and work expressly as a director.

Arzner began her film career in the twenties, first of all editing, then directing for Paramount.

In the thirties, she moved to RKO, becoming Hollywood’s only woman director, working with stars like Rosalind Russell in Craig’s Wife, Katherine Hepburn in Christopher Strong and Lucille Ball in Dance Girl, Dance.

RKO were known for their B-grade films, and in her autobiography Lucille Ball reveals that when she worked at RKO, Arzner was known as “Queen of the B’s” ; the ballyhoo that accom­ panied an A-grade film throughout the thirties was not the lot of a B-grade director — male or female.

Ida Lupino, well-known to audiences as an actress in A-grade films, was equally unable to redress the lack of publicity given to women direc­ tors. She directed more than nine feature films and even created her own production company in order to have artistic control of her work.

However, the lirhited production budgets on most of her films effectively rated them below B-grade.

In Britain, the production fund monopoly that crippled Lupino’s work had the same effect on Muriel Box. Between 1946 and 1964, Box directed more than nine successful formula features, but without access to finance she was never able to work independently.

Who would buy an Agnes Varda film?

Those words, spoken by a director of a major film festival with just the correct subtle balance of incredulity and scorn, epitomize the need for an Australian Inter­ national Women’s Film Festival.

Other women working in Britain with a freer artistic rein did so at the expense of their in­ dependence — women like Alma Reville, Hitchcock’s wife and rarely accredited cinematic better half.

Olga Preobrazhenskaya was the Soviet Union’s first woman director. She made her first film in 1916 and made seven more before the Stalinist purges in 1935. Esther Shub, along with DzigaVertov, was one of the first Russians to create feature films entirely from newsreel and archival material. Shub went on to make more than 10 films between 1927 and 1947.

Top: Dorothy Arzner (right) directing Joan Crawford in The Bride Wore Red. Arzner was the only woman working ex­ pressly as a director in America during the thirties.

Above: Agnes Vardas’ Lion’s Love.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 109

The most outstanding woman director in e a s te rn E u ro p e was P o la n d ’s W an d a Jakubowska, who co-founded the Society of the Devotees of the Artistic Film (START) in the twenties. In the thirties Jakubowska joined the vanguard of the prewar documentary movement and by 1949 — with the making of The Last Stage* — she had established herself as one of the leading filmmakers in Poland. Since then Jakubowska has made eight more features — the last in 1965.

Overall, the degree of emotional and physical support given to filmmakers in communist countries has been greater than in the West. Such support is due, in part, to the policies of official organizations — such as State-run film schools — which do not discourage the participation of women. Consequently eastern European women have not suffered as much as their sisters in the ‘free world’ from the liberal myth that success comes to those who deserve it, and their work has been seriously considered from the beginning. „ - Preobrazhenskaya, Shub and Jakubowska all worked closely with their male contemporaries in the forefront of technical innovation and creative experimentation, whereas Arzner and Lupino were denied this sort of ongoing productive association with their contemporaries.

Mention here must be made of the extraor­ dinary success of Leni Riefenstahl. Extraordinary in that the most totalitarian regime of the century allowed a woman director hitherto unparalleled creative freedom. For the filming of the Berlin Olympics in 1936, Riefenstahl had 29 cameramen at her disposal, and the famous Nuremberg Rally was staged exclusively for the production of Triumph of the Will.

After the war, Riefenstahl disclaimed all associations with National Socialism. She is still making films, although in the more remote parts of the world. Only her documentary propaganda films have been seen in Australia.

In the West, Agnes Varda is the only woman director to have worked as an equal with men. She was an active member of the New Wave, and her ' film Les Creatures dates from this period. She was also one of the directors of Loin de Vietnam.

The status of women filmmakers today has hardly improved. But while there probably isn’t a conscious conspiracy to prevent women making films, there certainly isn’t any biological impedi­ ment preventing them from doing so either. Clear­ ly there is historical precedent. *The Last Stage is a documentary reconstruction of the fate of. women in Nazi concentration camps. It was made by a cast and crew, including the director herself, who had been im­ prisoned in them.

110 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Those women’s films that are made, nowever, are appallingly distributed, inadequately publicized, and never receive the serious critical attention they deserve. In addition, the subtext they communicate — that women can make films — is not apprehended. A vicious cycle ensues, keeping women either completely out of the in­ dustry or working as embattled independents — those very mavericks who, as Pauline Kael has said in a recent New Yorker article, the dis­ tributors and studio heads won’t touch with a barge pole.

Lina Wertmilller is a glaring case in point. Her third feature Mimi the Metalworker has been released in Australia, but only in a 350-seat government subsidised ‘art’ house.

In view of the brilliance and wit with which this unabashedly commercial piece was executed, the fact that it has not had a major commercial release here is as incomprehensible as it is deplorable. Not that Mimi is an avowedly feminist film; in fact, to many, its commercial appeal is the direct correlative of its rampant celebration of sexism, since the film is told ex­ clusively from the viewpoint of a philandering Sicilian male who pursues the double standard with unmatched vigor. One can only hope Wertmuller’s latest film, Of Love and Anarchy, fares better.

At present the only film by a woman director enjoying a full commercial release is Liliana Cavani’s Night Porter.

So, at a time when the need for women to create and explore their own cinematic images has never been greater, the commercial exhibition of women’s films in Australia continues to be blocked. Agnes Varda and Susan Sontag’s films wait for distribution, and Nelly Kaplan’s A Very Curious Girl (Bloody Mary) is considered too obscene.

The need for a retrospective festival of films made only by women is urgent, and a case par ex­ cellence for positive discrimination in favor of women. A festival is neither an apology nor a destructively separatist event. The accusation of separatism (after all why not show films about women, not necessarily made by women?) can be met if the unique opportunity International Women’s Year affords is considered. Never again will women have the resources at their disposal to send representatives overseas to find and negotiate for films. And perhaps never again will women have the energy nor the audacity to stage festivals in all the state capitals of the country.

Moreover, if the notion of a women’s film festival is not to be a mere flash in the same greasy old pan, the original festival should provide an historical context and celebration of the catholic tastes and varied concerns of the numerous women who have been making films since the in­ ception of this newest and most socially decisive art form.

The success of the 1975 International Women’s Film Festival cannot be measured purely in terms of the audience who sees it, because the vast majorityof Australian women will not. The reason for this cannot, unfortunately, be explained by simply citing admission prices — $16 in Melbourne and Sydney for full subscriptions. If the Festival becomes the province of the educated middle class it will be because of the nature of the event and not the cost. Women are more likely to be put off by the unfamiliar and opaque notion of a film festival per se.

Hence the inroads that are made into the con­ sciousness of the community at large will depend on the energy that is directed towards the other ‘events’ of the festival — the video access centers; the proposed screenings of films and videotapes in schools, country centers, shopping center auditoriums and on the factory floor by mobile projection units; the photographic ex­ hibitions; the video tuition and the possible film­ making workshops.

The organizers hope to expand the dimension of this festival by utilising its audience — a film festival’s most often neglected resource. To this end, venues will be provided for people to meet after the screenings in order to talk in warm and sympathetic conditions.

The danger inherent in such a festival is that it could become an excuse for passivity, under the respectable guise of a critical evaluation of the past, unless its praxis-making potential — its ability to illuminate the past in order to inspire, inform and emotionally support current or poten­ tial female filmmakers — is realized.

The existence of such a festival is almost man­ datory if women filmmakers are to be exposed to the need for dynamic reappraisal of their own in­ dividual perceptions, in order to ensure that a new idiom and new dimensions are added to the art of filmmaking. ★

Above left: Leni Riefenstahl’s Olympiade 1936. A woman director with hitherto unparalleled creative freedom.

Above right: Mai Zetterling’s Night Games. Zetterling will be a guest of the International Women’s Film Festival.

“The success of any actor in any generation can be traced to the personification of some trait which is fairly common to most of the population . . .

“Glenda Jackson personifies a kind of anti-sentimental can­ dor which, in our finest moments, enables us to reject the pap, kitsch and schlock that stultify our daily lives.”

Charles Marowitz

Glenda Jackson Ms Jackson, you said that by the time you were 18 you have decided to be an actress and that apart from a brief stint in a chemist shop you had not considered any other career. Did you feel that you would ever become a major film star?

In 1954 Glenda Jackson entered the Royal Academy of Dramatic Art, following in the wake of actors like Albert Finney, Peter O’Toole, Sarah Miles and Alan Bates.

Ten years of demoralizing repertory work followed her graduation, until she was selected by directors Peter Brook and No. When I started my training I Charles Marowitz to play a role in the Artaud-inspired produc­ was told I was obviously only a tion of Marat-Sade for the Royal Shakespearean Company’s ‘character’ actress, and could not ex­ Theatre of Cruelty season. pect to have any substantial parts un­ Her rivetting portrayal of the crazed Charlotte Corday on til I was in my forties. At that time in stage in London and New York — and later in Brook’s Film of the theater most of the roles went to the production — mesmerized audiences. pretty blonde ‘juves’. Then it all Ken Russell saw Glenda Jackson as Charlotte and was changed with John Osborne’s Look Back in Anger, in which, for the first prompted to take her on to play Gudrun in his film of time, working-class life was con­ Lawrence’s Women in Love. Her precision acting and raw, un­ sidered palatable for the theater, fashionable type of sexuality immediately established her as a whereas previously the countryunique actress. house set or classical old masters Within ten years she was to become one of the most were the only vehicles for actors. charismatic screen presences in the world.

Who were the film and stage Glenda Jackson was recently in Melbourne with the Royal actresses that inspired you as a girl?

Shakesperean Company, and was interviewed by Sue Spunner Joan Crawford, Bette Davis, and Pat Longmore for tne International Women’s Film Festival.

Katherine Hepburn . . .

Jackson speaks of the ‘dark’ and perhaps demented women Because of the sort of roles they she has played for many directors, and her desire to play ‘lighter played? souls’.

No, because of their acting; but someone I really liked was Esther Williams.

You have worked a lot with Ken Russell, during which time you tended to play a certain type of woman. Has that relationship and the particular way he saw you had any effect on the films you have made for other direc­ tors?

No, he had seen me in Marat-Sade and asked me as a result to do Women in Love. He was one of the young directors who had come up through television in the postOsborne era and I had always liked his work. He has tremendous energy and so much enthusiasm, but most

importantly, he allows you to bring all your fantasies into play.

I’ve heard Liv Ullman, talking about Bergman, say that a good director creates the space for the ac­ tor’s fantasies. There’s an instance she cites of when she was playing a vain woman who was to walk down a passageway. Most directors would have chosen to do a panning shot, but Liv Ullman stopped in front of a mirror in order to project her thoughts. Bergman had placed the camera exactly because he an­ ticipated she might do just that.

Great directors have the ability to anticipate or allow innovations to oc­ cur. Ken Russell also has this ability.

scene over and over, although we ac­ tors were ready to pick ourselves up and start afresh.

On the coldest day of the coldest British winter for years, for the last shot of The Music Lovers in the asylum, I found myself crouched over a grating, in a disused army barracks, clad only in a thin cotton frock, no stockings or shoes. The shot was repeated over and over again during the day until I was literally blue. Eventually, my face had quite frozen — it looked perfect for the film.

For the 1812 fantasy scene in The Music Lovers, Richard Chamberlain and I had to run into the street in a storm. They had got an enormous wind machine with a great propellor, and it had been turned on with such force it literally lifted us off our feet and dropped us in a heap, with me on the bottom. I realized, during the moments the bodies above me were getting up, that Ken would be waiting for my comments. So I said that it was a most fantastic ex­ perience, just like flying. To which he responded by ordering that the machine be turned down by half at Have you ever had a director place least. I knew if I had said how vile it you in a physically harrowing or was, he would have decided it had to dangerous position? be just like that and wanted to do it again.

Ken Russell is an utter physical coward, and therefore he always has In the context of the rest of your his actors doing extremely dangerous films, “A Touch of Class” is unusual. things so he doesn’t look a coward himself. In one scene in Women in Why did you do it?

Love, Oliver and I were in a side-car For a change it was so nice not to on a low loader, going along a very narrow lane in Derbyshire with deep have to destroy anybody. I am ditches on either side. We were going always being such a dark lady, so at such incredible speed that we went gloomy. It was a lovely change to be off the road and ended up in the light for a little while. ditch. Only the cameraman’s protest that the speed was quite unnecessary Continued on page 177 saved us from having to repeat the Cinema Papers, July-August — 111

Duet for Cannibals

I’m very interested in the preoc­ cupation “ Duet for Cannibals” has with people manipulating, exploiting and playing games with each other.

How did these ideas evolve?

Well. I’m certainly interested in that situation — at a certain point in my life I was haunted by it. But the choice of theme for the film was also determined by a limited budget. So, I automatically thought of a closed situation with few changes of location, a small num ber of characters and some kind of personal confrontation.

I was actually happy to have limits set on my first film project because I was making a transition from writing to filmmaking and that way I’d be less likely to break my neck. After all, you don’t really know that you can make a film until you’ve done it.

There were other influences at work on Duet for Cannibals. I’m mentioning this because film direc­ tors are rarely honest about why they made this or that film. For example, I started off negotiating with an Italian producer in Rome and that is why an Italian actress has a key role.

Then I had to change producers and I asked her to come to Sweden. She did, and then the role had to be changed somewhat because she spoke neither Swedish nor English and had to le a rn h er p a r t phonetically.

So, I’m an American, I was originally going to make the film in Italy, and I actually made it in Sweden. Had I made the film in Italy, the characters would have ex­ teriorized much more, whereas now the film does have a Swedish flavor.

There is a very dramatic sharplyoutlined personal style that Swedish people have, of feeling with each other, and inevitably the material had to be adapted to that as well.

Coincidentally the subject of the film is a theme that is found in Swedish culture especially in the plays of Strindberg.

People have said that Duet for Cannibals is influenced by Ingmar Bergman, but this is not so. The only Swedish films most people are familiar with are Bergman’s, but his 112 — Cinema Papers, July-August

As part of the preparations for the Women’s Film Festival to be held Australia-wide from August to September this year, Sue Johnston was sent to Europe to preview feature films and shorts and to interview women filmmakers. The following interview between Johnston and Susan Sontag took place in Paris in January and was edited from an original interview on videotape.

Susan Sontag was widely known as a novelist, essayist and film and social critic before she turned to scriptwriting and film­ making in 1969. Her first two films, Duet for Cannibals (1969) and Brother Karl (1971), were made in Sweden because her producer was Swedish and both themes were adaptable.to the Swedish national environment. Sontag’s first experiment with both non-fiction and color photography came with her latest film Promised Lands (1974), which was financed by the French producer Nicole Stephane and shot on location in Israel.

Critical reaction to Sontag’s Swedish films varies con­ siderably. Some are enthusiastic about Sontag’s intellectual ex­ ploration of the constantly changing emotional and erotic per­ mutations of her characters with one another, and the austere and tightly controlled cinematic style she has developed. Others find the films oppressively boring. Sontag is not popular with feminist critics because she is primarily preoccupied in her films with intellectual creativity, cinematic style and human psy­ chology, rather than presenting an alternative vision of indepen­ dent, fulfilled womanhood.

Sontag is typical of women filmmakers emerging in Europe and the US. She both writes the scripts and directs. She also tends to work on tight budgets for individual producers rather than for large film corporations. Similarly, the distribution of her films is handled by independents.

Sontag’s film output, which stands at one feature every second year, is high for a woman filmmaker and demonstrates her stature in a field where a director’s ability to find a producer for a new project is as good as her last film.

Promised Lands marks a departure in content and style from the Swedish films and reveals Sontag a filmmaker of versatility and promise. cinema is really not as individualistic as it would appear, because there is a great deal that is just plain Swedish in Bergman.

It s trik e s me a fte r seeing Marguerite Duras’ “ Destroy She Said” that there is a very strong similarity to “ Duet for Cannibals” . “ Destroy” is another film made on a tight budget, with few characters,

about this sort of psychological con­ frontation and conflict.

Yes, I know Marguerite' Duras, and we made these films completely independently. We saw each other’s films for the first time when they were both selected to be shown at the New York Film Festival in 1969 and had a long conversation about how similar they were.

It really is curious, because there are even two scenes which are a variation on the same theme — the woman in front of the mirror.

Marguerite was particularly struck by the resemblance. Destroy She Said was indeed the first film she had completely directed and it’s true that she also accepted low budget limitations.

In “ Duet for Cannibals” you use irony to show the role reversals that are taking place. For example, in the first of the two main dinner sequences one of the girls is a guest, and in the second a servant.

It’s the kind of thing that works very well in films. Here I am very different to Duras — I’m going to take her as an arbitrary point of comparison.

Marguerite is somebody who is recycling the same material in a number of forms and that is a very extraordinary phenomenon. She was a writer, she is now a film director and also a playwright. There are works of hers which have been written as novels as well as plays, and have also been made into films. In each case she uses basically the same story or situation with similar characters and dialogue — and she can adapt to each of these forms.

That’s very remarkable. I don’t do that at all. For me, if I have an idea for some kind of narrative, I know that it’s either a film or a work of prose. I know it’s one or the other. I can’t imagine that I would write a novel and then want to make a film of it. When I got the idea for Duet for Cannibals I knew it was a film.

That kind of role reversal with a guest becoming a servant I saw ab­ solutely 'in a visual way as the difference between sitting and stan­ ding, being helped and serving.

The things that I like about Duet for Cannibals are purely visual, spatial, plastic things,, I dislike even putting dialogue or voice-over in films. So far it’s been necessary in the three films I’ve made, but I would love to make a film with as lit­ tle dialogue as possible.

Continued on page 177

Top right and right: Rogopag — religion is the opium, the bleeding heart of a cruel world.

Top left: Pasolini as Chaucer in Canterbury Tales and Bottom left as Giotto in The Decameron — the effect is to reinforce the importance of the auteur.

Lower center: 1001 Nights

Oneiric cinema or onanic cinema? That appears to be the question. Whether ’tis nobler in the mind to create a dream mythology or have a good wank.

So when Pasolini’s 120 Days of Sodom finally hits the screens, everyone will nod wisely. “Ah,” they’ll say. “Oh. So that’s where he’s going.” And the seers of the near future will read back to the shattering revelation in a recent review of 1001 Nights, that Pasolini was decadent, a woyeur,. “self-destructive as a heroin addict” , camp and “ once a self-proclaimed Marxist.” Well, you can see where that lot’s headed, can’t you? Straight for the Pit. This review is typical of many in combining the manners of a really confused sexist bunny with the morals of the zeal-of-the-land ‘Busy’. “Nothing goes downhill so fast as a thoroughbred” , it mutters thoughtfully. Its pseudo-technical com­ plaints about the dubbing, the “bad” acting etc, further complicate the argument.

In the hands of a production company given, like much established European cinema, to co­ production deals, Pasolini is an example of many other French and Italian directors, auteurs down to their feather plumes, but somehow packaged up by their producers along with their product and sold to audiences in Arkansas or Adelaide parroting away in Transatlantic.

And, precisely because of the extent to which Pasolini uses films as personal essays, a habit shared by other Italian directors (see the monsters Felliniroma and Viscontisdeathinvenice), critics are more prone to pounce on him in terms of per­ sonal abuse. And the trouble is you can’t merely blame the producers or translations (grotesque as the dubbings are), since the images for the most part remain intact, and they should still convey their meaning. Can it be true that the oncepromising-Marxist-director has gone gaga, decadent, etc?

IOOI NIGHTS

and

120 DAYS THE EROTIC CINEMA OF PIER PAOLO PASOLINI Noel Purdon Or might it be nearer the truth to point out that certain Australian critics, for all the notice they take of visual style or all the skill they have in in­ terpreting it, might as well be blind.

Comparisons of Pasolini with that Taorminian baron who photographed young Sicilians in Theocritan poses are not entirely irrelevant. Only the function of comparisons in a work of criticism may be objected to, e.g. “ Pasolini was a good director once when he dealt with healthy straight urban prostitution, but he has now become a dirty old perv, and this lowers the quality of his work.”

Such accusations are neither recent nor un­ usual. A Time critic in 1967 was already billing his review of Theorem as “lilies that fester” . It is amazing to see how many critics with hitherto un­ sullied neo-fascist principles suddenly display themselves as champions of Marxism at sight of a prick.

It should be possible to lift the discussion finally away from the sniggering innuendoes of the reviewer, and to start from the premise that Pasolini’s art is, like Proust’s or Michelangelo’s or Genet’s or Kenneth Anger’s, essentially homosexual, i.e. however much his works deal with heterosexual models or situations, their erotic concentration is on men and not on women.

That this situation seems at all odd can only emphasise the complicated sexism of those who oppose, conceal or ignore it.

Physical love between men, repressed in the tough machismo of the subproletariat in Accat­ tone, in Christ’s fiery platonics with the Apostles in The Gospel, is given complete representation for the first time in Theorem, in the affairs of the father and son with the young stranger. In Pigsty it becomes guiltily disguised as bestiality in the modern story, and cannibalism in the ancient one. Despite the lusty adolescent nudes who roll through the Decameron, homosexuality is no more than mentioned incidentally, or disguised as^ fraternal, as in the tableau of Isabella’s brothers.

The Canterbury Tales includes a curious sequence invented by Pasolini himself from his background’ research, and, one imagines, his particular phobias at the time. This is his interpretation of Chaucer’s Summoner, which is consciously treated voyeuristically, and climaxes with a moneyless sodomite being burned at the stake because he cannot bribe the ecclesiastical officers.

No wonder he should wish to say in the last reel of the Nights: “The beginning was bitter, but the end was sweet.”

Cinema Papers, July-August — 113

Top left: 1001 Nights — Pasolini’s art is essentially homosex­ ual however much his work deals with heterosexual models or situations.

Below: The Decameron.

Bottom left: 1001 Nights — The ‘Caliph’ who quotes homoerotic poetry to her lover while making him touch her vulva.

Center bottom: 1001 Nights — The secret turns out to be that the Caliph’s beard is really on her pudenda, and that anyone, given the right vestimentary sign, can be what they please: Caliph, slave, man or woman.

Whatever else it is, 1001 Nights remains also the emotional record of a director in the praxis of filmmaking, not in the carefully scripted and ex­ teriorized manner of Truffaut’s Day for Night, but in the form of an interior meditation which acts particularly on the montage, creating the process of a journey to the book and the Arab world. Pasolini’s fascination with Islamic culture goes back at least as far as the poem Ali Degli Occhi Azzuri, which fantasises Europe’s im­ migrant class of Arab workers as a revolutionary force teaching Paris, London and Rome to be free, and giving them back a culture once had by the ancients but lost by Europeans.

The Nights embody both his definition of that culture and the last part of his erotic medieval trilogy. It would seem important, therefore, to look at the film structurally, studying some of the codes by which it operates in terms of shotrhythm, costume, location etc, and giving some account of what it does on the level of aesthetics, narrative and sexuality.

SEXUALITY AS STRUCTURE Firstly, it is important to recognize that the structure is essentially sexual, and that, far from receiving pompous and ignorant abuse, this needs critical examination.

1. The polarization of the sexual adventure is begun by the protagonists Zumurrud and Nur-el-Din as soon as they are alone. He puts his prick in the ‘wrong’ place, an action of sodomy returned to jocosely as a threat to him

by Zumurrud in the final scene. Here, as the Caliph, she also quotes homoerotic poetry to her lover while making him touch her vulva. In his encounter with the lion in the desert, Nur reaches and passes through the existential crisis of all Pasolini’s protagonists. But he is still to be initiated, and whatever else is sexual­ ly accomplished in the film, the reduction of the male principle from the fucker to the fuckable is its final visual point.

114 — Cinema Papers, July-August

2 . The tale of Caliph Harun and Queen Zobeida

is inset with the episode of the Vizier and the three beaming naked boys lined up for his in­ spection, just as in the second half of the film Taji’s pursuit of Princess Dunya has cut into it the encounter with the banana-loving Sheikh who offers Taj and Aziz a bath. Homosexual too are the selections of the male contestant by Harun and the female by Zobeida, though their heterosexual direction towards each other is brought out by their fondling as they spy on the adolescent couple.

3. Even the ordinary townsfolk of Zumurrud’s royal city suppose that Nur has been hauled off for the ‘King’s’ pleasure. One comments that he wouldn’t mind having a go at the boy himself. Whatever the prudery and sense of sin with which Islam, like Christendom, may of­ ficially regard sexuality, on the popular level of Arab culture all forms of sexuality are at least granted recognition. So if there is more homosexuality in 1001 Nights than in either the Decameron or the Canterbury Tales, that is a just reflection of the preoccupations of the different medieval societies which produced them.

In seeing this as an example of Pasolini’s wilful decadence and personal invention, critics are ap­ parently unaware of the continuing debate on boy or girl love which runs through the collection, e.g. the tales of the 389th to the 393rd nights. Here, in a debate between a learned and witty lady and an equally learned and witty pederast, the man places his homoerotic preference on a typical male chauvinist base: “Now man is the active principle in life and woman the passive; therefore past peradventure, woman is below man and a boy preferable to a girl” . Pasolini must historically transcend this argument, because it justifies homosexuality only by denigrating women. He does so, not only by eliminating the desperate ver­ bal prostitute Shahrazad, who appeared in the writings, but by making another woman, Zumurrud, delightfully incarnated by Ines Pellegrini, the active principle in the film. It is she who initiates the action at the beginning, and she who has the last word at the end. Just as he con­ tradicts the basis of the medieval sexual argument, so he reverses the political (i.e. the master/slave) situation in her imperious treat­ ment of her owner. “ Give me a massage. Take your pants off,” she commands. .

The secret turns out to be that the Caliph’s beard is really on her pudenda, and that anyone, given the right vestimentary sign, can be what they please, caliph, slave, man or woman. The zero point of the vestimentary sign is, of course, the body itself — as appears in the second ar­ tisan’s tale, where the real contrast is between his memorable nudity and the Knight’s metallic cover: thus perish all tinpots! The nude human body, then, in its own shape and color, and the angle from which it is shot, determines the emo­ tion we take from it: lust, pathos, sado­ masochism, delight.

With more than a dozen naked female bodies and an equal number of full frontal male ones, Pasolini provides a range of possibilities in the nude, from the voluptuous desert beauty having a dildo fired into her vagina to the pathos of the white buttocks of the slaughtered boy. Is it deca­ dent to make art that gives you a hard-on? More pertinent, is it decadent to admit that you enjoy art that gives you a hard-on?

In defending himself at the Venice biennale against attacks on his eroticism, Pasolini drew attention to Marx’s original views on the political nature of love, and lamented the Stalinist chauvinism of the male left. “ Marxism has taken up the old bourgeois ideas of puritanism. It is significant that my books and films are not allow­ ed to be translated or seen in the Soviet Union.”

1001 NIGHTS AND 120 DAYS

Top left and center top: 1001 Nights — the tragic sexual sacrifice ot the young.

Top right: 1001 Nights — Castration as sexual revenge by woman.

Bottom left: 1001 Nights — An interior meditation creating the process of a journey to the book and the Arab world.

Bottom right: 1001 Nights — The nude human body. The angle from which it is shot determines the emotion we take from it.

In this sense, his decision to continue making mass visual fantasies of the great erotic books of historical cultures is an act of mass liberation as well as the purging of personal demons and the airing of personal angels. It is, as he insisted, a political choice to make films such as these, the reverse of the images of television and respectable entertainment.

NARRATIVE The Decameron had closed with the half­ despairing question: Why bother to make a work of art when it’s much better to dream it? The long­ ing for dream-cinema continues in 1001 Nights with the added recognition that one person’s dream isn’t enough. “Truth lies not in one single dream, but in many dreams.” Besides being a dis­ tillation of a particular book, then, the film is an examination of Islamic culture and of the role of collective fantasy in any culture, including our own experience of cinema.

Its major experiment is with narrative. This is something which has always preoccupied Pasolini, as a poet who came to the cinema via the novel and semiology. His methods of discourse have in­ cluded the free indirect narrative of Accattone, the geometrical parallelism of Theorem, the embedding of a Greek play, ahistorically treated, within a particular man’s experience, historically treated (Oedipus). Thus, when he came to a narrative experiment already provided by Boccac­ cio, his instinct was to avoid the framework of aristocratic tale-telling, and change the metaphor of tale-telling to fresco painting (Decameron).

Since he himself played the Giottesque painter, the effect, of course, was to reaffirm the impor­ tance of the single auteur.

In Canterbury Tales, despite the communal prologue, he took a further step back by reducing the narrative to the comic voice of Chaucer (played by guess who) rather than using the rich variety of narrative voices in the pilgrims’ tales.

For 1001 Nights he mercifully elected to play neither the King nor Shahrazad, and thus achiev­ ed his most significant experiment of the trilogy by abolishing them from the narrative altogether.

Along with Ali Baba and Aladdin, they receive not a mention.

The decision to dispense with Shahrazad as

narrator leaves him free to confabulate the tales within tales as well, thus imitating the sinuous narrative line of the original without slavishly following it. The clearest example of this is his bricolage of the Tale of Zumurrud with the Tale of Nur-el-Din. Achieving a notable new story of the two tales seems to have been what caught his mind: a slave auction in which the witty slave chooses her own buyer, but is abducted by Christians and escapes by posing as a bearded man.

In Barthe’s terms, Pasolini has picked up the vestimentary signs of the original, and used them as part of the legitimate code of the cinema, i.e. costume. The Caliph’s beard, as a datum of the cognitive order, takes its place as the central visual prop in the activity of sexual role-playing which is the chief motif of the film.

He has similarly picked up the various cultural strata of the Nights, Persian, Damascene, north African, Arabian, and reflected them in his choice of locations: Eritrea, the two Yemens, Iran and Nepal. The original Nights, the Hazzar Afsana or Thousand Tales, ordered into a matrix in 1100, and finally added to and established in Cairo c.

1350, dealt with a culture that extended from Indo-Persia, via the Bagdad of Harun al Rashid to Mameluke Egypt. Very much of a feast for the senses, it celebrates the fruits, flowers, colors, jewels, wines, drugs, erotic encounters and in­ trigues of Islam. In finally cutting together a con­ versation, half of which is shot by the Red Sea and half in Nepal, Pasolini achieves that polymorphy of image, that mixing of cultural realities in order to create a new reality, which characterizes the cinema as well as the tales.

CODES OF MANY DREAMS The film’s epigraph about dreams mirrors the difference between Christian and Islamic cultures put by Norman Daniel thus: “ For Christians the prophetic preparation of the Jews leads to a single event, the Incar­ nation, which is the inauguration of the Messianic Kingdom . . . For Muslims too there is just one Revelation, of the only religion, Islam, or submission to God; but it was made again and again through successive prophets.”

The people of the Nights share each other’s ex­ perience (many dreams) by being set in a structure

which unifies them by the codes or motifs they have in common. This structure is itself oneiric and aesthetic, with formal reference to dreaming, or reading from books, as the cues for the tales to unfold.

It is impossible in the end to call them tales, because in the film that is not the unit any longer, any more than the single shot is. The structural unit here tends to be either a nude human body or a still life, whatever other shots or tales surround it. And the images around it take off from whatever particular image it connotes, e.g. food to be consumed/the human body to be made love to: the human body to be consumed/food to be made love to. Pasolini has already reached, in Pigsty, the limits of oral and anal confusion, defined later (and memorably!) by La Grande Bouffe. In each successive film he has tried to purge himself of these two sexual stages, which in a capitalist socie­ ty may be seen in their unattractive aspects of consumption and despoilation. The mouth gulps down; the arse shits on. A vision of oral heaven in Decameron is matched in Canterbury Tales by an anal heil, which climaxes with a Boschian hellarse shitting forth priests and friars. The Nights give the two their human expression as places of pleasure.

Discourtesy about food is treated with as much vigor as discourtesy about love. Those who put their left hand into the communal rice dish will be executed; Aziza lovingly forces Aziz,to eat the food she has prepared for him, though she herself is wasting away. In some places, notably in the same tale, food and love are fused. Aziz insults the enchantress by wolfing down her pavilion banquet and falling asleep, thus twice failing his erotic test.

The dynamic by which this structure operates cinematically may be thought of as: still life con­ trasted with invading action, a static setup violated by tracking. The best visual example of this, one which gains a rhythmic effect by being repeated, is seen in the static composition of the fatal rice bowl which awaits each of its victims in turn, as they are tracked or panned with on their entrance to the King’s khan. Sometimes the in­ vading action is that of violent reality (e.g. the kidnapping of Zumurrud), sometimes of dream (the pigeons fluttering in the trap), sometimes of overt hallucination (Nur’s encounter with the desert lion).

Continued on page 180 Cinema Papers, July-August — 115

Restrictive Trade Practices Legislation and the Film Industry - Part II

By ANTONY I. GINNANE In Part 1 of this two-part article, Antony I. Ginnane examined the ownership, attitudes and practices of the Australian film in­ dustry. He also examined the history of anti-trust legislation in the U.S., and described the legislative changes which were needed to break up the vertically integrated American industry.

In this second part, Ginnane examines the British and New Zealand industries, and the measures undertaken there to combat monopolistic practices. He concludes by outlining the development of trade practices legislation in Australia, and suggests ways in which Australian producers and exhibitors may make the new Trade Practices Act work for them.

OVERSEAS REACTION TO FILM INDUSTRY MONOPOLIES -BRITAIN THE COMMON LAW APPROACH Halsbury’s Laws o f England125 state that it is contrary to the policy of English common law for any person, or group of persons, to secure the ex­ ercise of any known trade throughout the country, and point out that the Crown cannot grant such a monopoly without statutory authority, except in certain cases. The right of the Crown was further lim ited and defined by the S ta tu te of Monopolies26.

In North Western Salt Co. Ltd. v Electrolytic Alkali Co. (1912)27 it was noted that at common law an agreement might be illegal if, by causing the control of a trade or industry to pass into the hands of an individual or group of individuals, it creates a monopoly calculated to injure the public by increasing prices unreasonably.

Although sixteenth century cases upheld the anti-monopoly line — for example, Mitchell v Reynolds28 stated that three inseparable incidents of monopoly were: increase of prices; the deterioriation of quality; and the tendency to create unemployment among artificers — a general laissez-faire had, however, prevailed by the nineteenth century. Even in Mitchell v Reynolds29, Lord Macclesfield had recognized cir­ cumstances in which a contract in partial, but not general, restraint of trade could be valid.

The courts’ withdrawal from economic regula­ tion can be noted in Hearn v Griffin (1815)30, in which two coach proprietors agreed to charge the same prices to passengers, a stipulation which it was claimed was “in restraint of competition in a trade which is so conducive to the interest of the public” , and consequently void.

Rejecting the argument, Lord Ellenborough commented: “ How can you contend that it is a 116 — Cinema Papers, July-August

restraint of trade? They are left at liberty to charge what they like, though not more than each other. . .”

The high point of the ‘all competition is ruinous’ argument came in 1937 in the Thorne v Motor Trade Association31 case, where the House of Lords unanimously approved the enforcement of group price fixing agreements against members and non-members of the association alike by means of a system of secret ‘courts’, collective boycotts and fines.

Similarly, in the notorious Mogul Steamship Co v McGregor, Gow and Co. (1892)32, where the defendant shipping lines combined to secure the carrying-trade out of Hankow for themselves ex­ clusively (by regulating freight charges; granting loyalty rebates to shippers who dealt only with their group members; and by refusing to deal with agents who represented competing shipowners), the House of Lords held that their conduct gave rise to no cause for action on conspiracy charges.

In spite of the fact that McGregor, Gow and Co., had sent numbers of its ships to the port to undercut the plaintiffs ship, there was nothing un­ lawful about their object to monopolize tf Hankow trade, and the methods used were neither unlawful intimidation nor molestation. A refusal to decide between fair and unfair competition is enunciated by the court. Lord Justice Bowen commented: “I myself should deem it to be a misfortune if we were to attempt to proscribe for the business world how honest and peaceable trade was to be carried on in a case where no such illegal elements as I have mentioned exist, or were to adopt some standard of judicial ‘reasonableness’, or o f ‘normal prices’, or ‘fair freights’ to which commercial adven­ turers, otherwise innocent, were bound to con­ form.”

In Sorrel v Smith (1925)33 the ‘conspiracy

doctrine’ crystallized. A combination of two or more persons wilfully to injure a man in his trade is unlawful, and if it results in damage to him is actionable. If the real purpose of the combination is not to injure another, but to forward or defend the trade of those who enter into it, then no wrong is committed and no action will lie, although damage may result to another. Thus most attempts at monopolization or restraint of trade, which are usually motivated by hope of business gain, were preserved.34 The highwater mark of laissez-faire — the en­ forceability of contracts in restraint of trade — occurred in Nordenfelt v Maxim Nordenfelt Guns and Ammunition Co (1894)35, where the reasonableness, in reference to the interests of the parties concerned and the public, was held to justify contracts in restraint of trade.

The burden of proving the unreasonableness lay with the individual alleging it, and as Walker36 notes in Australian Monopoly Law, the interests of the public were rarely considered.

STATUTORY INTERVENTION It would thus seem inevitable that the common law’s failure to discourage monopolistic activities, or protect the public interest, would precipitate some legislative intervention as the number of restrictive practices grew.

In 1948, the British House of Commons passed the Monopolies and Restrictive Practices (Inquiry and Control) Act with three main purposes. The first was to define conditions, ‘monopoly con­ ditions’, to which the machinery of the Act was to be applied, when, “in the opinion of the Board of Trade the conditions did, or might prevail in any department of trade or industry as regards the

RESTRICTIVE TRADE PRACTICES LEGISLATION AND THE FILM INDUSTRY PART II

supply, processing or export of goods of any description” .

The second was to institute a commission — originally known as the Monopolies and Restric­ tive Practices Commission (now the Monopolies Commission) — to investigate and report on monopoly conditions and the practices resulting from, or designed to maintain them.

The third purpose of the Act was to provide sanctions in the - form of orders by specified government departments, approved by Parlia­ ment and enforceable in the courts by injunction.

The purpose of these was to prevent the reported conditions and practices from being used, or allowed to operate against the public interest.

In 1953, the Act was amended and the number of members was increased in an attempt to speed up the processes of the Commission. But the 1956 Restrictive Trade Practices Act made radical changes to the 1948 Act, especially with reference to resale price maintenance, and restored the Monopolies Commission to its former size.

The Commission is a judicial tribunal with the powers and authority of a superior court of record, presided over by a judicial official with the standing of a High Court judge. It has extensive jurisdiction over restrictive and discriminatory practices currently in force in trade and industry.

The Act of 1956 further makes certain restric­ tive practices liable to registration with the Board of Trade, as opposed to the Monopolies Com­ mission, but the control of the practices remains roughly the same, still leaving monopolies to the 1948 Act.

the practice for the barring clause frequently to in­ clude a statement that the cinema is entitled to play first-run in a particular area and that other cinemas are not to play before it, or that others though not playing before it may play con­ currently.” 38 There have been some changes in the British ex­ hibition field since then, but only to the extent of revised ownership of the chains and not to the appearance of new competition.

Bars thus give formal recognition to the prac­ tice of regarding some cinemas as first-run houses and some as subsequent run. The effect of bars is to permanently allocate to cinemas operating them, the right to the first-run of all available films in that release.

The Commission recommended that: (a) The two circuits extend the flexibility of their booking arrangements via split releases (as opposed to ‘national splash’) and specialized marketing;

THE MONOPOLIES CO M M ISSIO N REPORT ON THE FILM INDUSTRY

(e) Distributors be prohibited from entering into any franchise agreement to tie-hire to a particular chain; and .

On October 28, 1966 (acting on further amendments to the original 1948 legislation con­ tained in the Monopolies and Mergers Act of 1965) the Monopolies Commission presented a report to Parliament on “The Supply of Films for Exhibition in Cinemas” .37 At the time of making the report, there were two major cinema circuits in Britain — the Associated British Corporation (ABC) circuit and the Rank circuit.

Of the 2013 cinemas in Britain, 600 were operated between them. Distribution was con­ trolled by three British companies — British Lion, Rank and Associated British-Pathe — and seven subsidiaries of the U.S. majors. The methods of restrictive distribution discussed in Part I con­ cerning the U.S. industry were virtually all in operation in the British industry, with the addition of distance-bars.

The problems of time-bars have already been discussed. These barring clauses in agreements between exhibitors and distributors enable the ex­ hibitor to get full value from a film by preventing other cinemas from playing it concurrently, or before the expiration of a specified period. The Commission stated: “ In addition it has become

(b) The circuits initiate proposals to establish product allocation disputes and competitive bidding by exhibitors; (c) The Rank Organisation refrain from disx criminating against documentaries made by others; (d) The Board of Trade review disputes machinery for time-bars and distance-bars, and the time-bars be generally shortened;

(f) Distributors refrain from using full-line for­ cing, and not act collectively to restrict ex­ hibitors’ use of premises.

The Commission examined the U.S. divestiture and divorcement experience during its considera­ tion of arguments for breaking up the two circuits and splitting production from distribution and ex­ hibition. While both Rank and ABC were large film producers, the Commission found that there was no large specific dominance of the British in­ dustry by either organization. Although the two held a dominant position in exhibition, much of the distribution and financing of production was done by companies not connected with ABC or Rank, and which themselves had no stake in ex­ hibition.

The Commission, therefore, felt that the system of reciprocal preference* which gave rise to the U.S. situation was absent from Britain. The Com­ mission also found that the system of local monopoly (‘closed town’) situations which gave *In negotiating films for the circuit from the distributors, the corporations lumped together towns in which they had no competition, and those in which there were competitive theaters. They generally licensed first-run release for their theaters of all films to be released by a distributor in a year, and they frequently included second-run film rental in their first-run film hire. _ '

rise to divestiture in the U.S. was not present in Britain. Competitive bidding and theater-by­ theater booking in the U.S. nad produced con­ flicting results, and the Commission considered it was not in a position to determine which in­ terpretation of these results was correct.

The Commission, therefore, set its face against a radical revamping of the British industry, preferring to patch ,it up from within. It com­ mented: “ If we were starting with a clean slate we should prefer to see some looser and more com­ petitive structure in the film industry. But given the situation as it now exists, we are impressed by the formidable, and probably expensive, practical problems in the way of adopting any of the proposals” — i.e. concerning divestiture, divorcement, and the creation of a third circuit booking force.39 To a degree the Commission was limited by the tendency of the British legislation to gyrate around the ‘public interest’ rather than to prohibit various practices per se.

It is interesting to note that the years 1967-69 saw the virtual "take-over of the British film in­ dustry by American producer-distributor in­ vestment,, which, when withdrawn in late 1969, almost saw the total demise of production.

The British industry is now in a sorry state, ex­ isting off old formula successes (the Carry On series, etc.) and TV spinoffs. Perhaps a major reworking of the industry could have produced the same vibrant independent output that flourished in the U.S. after the consent decrees in the sixties,

A NEW PROPOSAL FOR REFORM In August 1973, the Nationalisation Forum of the Association of Cinematograph, Television and Allied Technicians published a document called Nationalising the Film Industry which contained some of the most radical proposals vet advanced for saving the British industry.40 The report, which is a mine of factual material concerning ownership of the multi-national production: distribution organizations (parts of which are reproduced in Appendix G*), advocated the com­ pulsory acquisition by the Government, without compensation, of the major production, ex­ hibition, distribution and allied companies whose assets are essential to a publicly-owned industry.

An eight-year, two-stage plan is outlined for restructuring the industry together with organizational arrangements for implementing workers’ control and forming a democratic framework of decision-making from a local to a national level. Proposals for training, trade union relations and employment categories are also ad­ vanced. Needless to say these proposals were received with scepticism by the established film industry, and were never generally aired or dis­ cussed. / *See page 119

AUSTRALIAN RESTRICTIVE TRADE PRACTICES LEGISLATION - EMERGENCE, GROW TH A N D RELEVANCE INTRODUCTION The general structure of the Australian film in­ dustry has been discussed in some detail in Part 1 of this article. Similar situations have also been found to exist in the U.S. and Britain, and the remedies undertaken have been noted there. Here it is proposed to consider local restrictive trade practices legislation, its development and the

scope of the most recent enactment. Considera­ tion will be given to how the Act may be applied to various film industry practices.

Before doing so, however, it is interesting to note the state of the film industry in New Zealand, where restrictive trade practices legislation41 is quite similar to the previous Australian Liberal Government’s Act. In New Zealand, distribution and exhibition are controlled by two major combines owned by overseas-based corporations. Amalgamated

Theatres, who are owned by the American Twen­ tieth Century-Fox Film Corporation, control around 35 of the country’s 230-odd cinemas. The other circuit, Kerridge-Odeon, which controls approximately 65 of the country’s cinemas, is con­ trolled in turn by the Rank Organisation. The remaining ‘independent’ cinemas are well away from the main centers of Auckland, Christchurch and Wellington, and are unimportant to the total box-office billings. K erridge-O deon and Amalgamated Theatres have virtually the same Cinema Papers, July-August — 117

RESTRICTIVE TRADE PRACTICES LEGISLATION AND THE FILM INDUSTRY PART II

relationship to distribution suppliers as Fox and Rank have in Australia.

New Zealand has virtually no feature Film out­ put, and there are no incentives for either of the two majors to invest in local productions.

THE PRE-BARWICK LEGISLATION Australian monopolies legislation was initially like its British counterpart: a reaction against the laissez-faire attitudes of the common law. As Walker42 points out, early attempts at legislation received rough handling from judges schooled in common law traditions. In 1906, Federal parlia­ ment passed the Australian Industries Preserva­ tion Act, an anti-trust enactment that resembled the Sherman Act in all but one clause. It forbade contracts and combinations made with “intent to restrain trade to the detriment of the public” , and monopolization “with intent to control, to the detriment of the public” , the supply or price of any part of commerce. The public detriment ele­ ment allowed the courts to inject into the statutory structure the laissez-faire standards of British courts of the nineteenth century. In Huddart Parker v Moorehead (1930)43, Sections 5 and 8 of the Act purported to regulate anti­ competitive conduct by corporations in both inter­ state and intrastate trade, and that such conduct exceeded the Commonwealth’s power to legislate with respect to corporations.

Then came the Coal Vend appeal in 191041. The prosecution claimed that the defendant mining companies had combined with intent to either restrain or to monopolize interstate coal trade to the detriment of the public. The defendant ac­ counted for 92 to 98 per cent of the local supply, and their activities encompassed all the exclusive dealing, profit sharing activities we are familiar with in the film industry.

In the High Court, Mr Justice Isaacs found all charges proved, citing unreasonable price in­ creases and restrictions of choice to the public detriment.

The Full High Court, however, reversed the decision in a much-criticized judgment which sounded the familiar cry of the evils of com­ petition.

The court maintained that the public interest was better served by an industry replete with restrictions than by no industry at all — which would be what would occur if competition was allowed. The Privy Council approved the Full Court judgment for similar reasons. The Act then was left largely in disuse until the successful prosecution almost 50 years later, in the Redfern v Dunlop Rubber Australia Ltd (1964)45 case.

Four Australian states have restrictive trade practices acts which antedate the 1906 Federal Act46. Like the Federal Statute they have been largely disused because of “ restrictive interpreta­ tion by the courts, apathy in government and ig­ norance among the people”47.

THE BARWICK PROPOSALS It was inevitable, therefore, that some new, farreaching legislation would be suggested, and the proposals of the then Attorney-General, Sir Gar­ field Barwick, provided some basis for a com­ prehensive new Act48. The law was to be based on a case-by-case interpretation which would allow certain specific practices (if registerable) and cer­ tain other activities (for example monopolization and price cutting) to be prohibited per se. These proposals were designed to encourage voluntary registration of agreements, and to reduce to a minimum the amount of investigative work. They also applied to vertical as well as horizontal prac­ tices. This registration scheme was without precedent. Moreover the criterion of ‘public in­ terest’ — that a practice is only ruled against if 118 — Cinema Papers, July-August

the Tribunal is satisfied it substantially lessens competition — was made more precise.

However, the basic dichotomy of the Barwick scheme — Le. that list ‘B’ practices are illegal per se and list ‘A’ practices are illegal only if they have not been registered, or after they have been successfully challenged by the registrar in proceeding for deregistration — was truncated during debate on the Bill. As assented to on September 27, 1966, the Trade Practices Act 1965-66 was a watered-down, toothless version with the ‘B’ practices removed.

The purpose of the Trade Practices Act, as stated in the preamble, was “to preserve competi­ tion in Australian trade and commerce to the ex­ tent required by the public interest.” ** The restriction of competition, however, is not paramount: the Act is also subject to the public in­ terest requirement and thus may be modified from time to time. The task of the Trade Practices Tribunal set up by the Act was to work out a caseby-case accommodation of the values to be preserved by competition, and the values compris­ ing the notion of public interest.

The main sections of'the Act deal with the following: (a) Five categories of examinable agreements, some of which must be registered with the Commissioner of Trade Practices and all of which are subject to examination by the Trade Practices Tribunal — which may declare them to be contrary to the public interest (Section 35); (b) Four classes of examinable practices, none of which are registerable, and all of which may be examined by the Tribunal to deter­ mine whether they are contrary to the public interest (Sections 36-37) and (c) Two substantive offences — collusive tendering and collusive bidding — for which criminal penalties are provided, and which (broadly speaking) are not subject to registration or examination by the Tribunal (Sections 85-87).

The examinable agreements include those which contain restrictions on the freedom to produce (i.e. output), deal and zone. The ex­ aminable practices include attempts to claim favorable treatment from a supplier to the disad­ vantage of his competitors; full-line forcing; collective boycotts; and monopolization.

As the Act stood it was of little value to in­ dependent cinema operators. Appendix G shows the fate of one typical complaint. It seems abun­ dantly clear, as Walker49 argues, that a large list of prohibited practices should be enacted: “The Australian approach” , he says, “rests on the assumption that all the examinable agreements and practices are likely to be innocuous in a sub­ stantial percentage of cases.” This is clearly not so. He examines and answers affirmatively the question of whether the Australian economy can afford — small as it is, and isolated from import competition by distance and tariffs — more prohibited practices.

He argues that some basic prohibitions are necessary for the sake of fairness, because the case-by-case system presents the injustice of some groups being examined early on and others later.

Greater use of absolute prohibitions would give trade groups an incentive to keep provisions like price fixing, market sharing and coercion out of their agreements50.

CONCRETE PIPES AND BEYOND An opportunity arose for the McMahon government to put teeth into the Trade Practices Act in 1971, when the High Court and the Chief Justice, Sir Garfield Barwick (Strickland v Rocla ** The Act is thus aimed at activities that restrict competition or an abuse of power leading towards monopolization.

Concrete Pipes Ltd (1971)51, held the entire Act to be invalid for constitutional reasons. Parliament, however, chose not to capitalize on this oppor­ tunity.

The new Restrictive Trade Practices Act of 1971 went little further than the original Act. It did nonetheless provide some independent ex­ hibitors with an opportunity to phrase their problems more exactly, but the inability of the aggrieved exhibitors to commence proceedings on their behalf limited the usefulness of the Act. (See Appendix F*).

The whole structure of the film distribution and exhibition duopoly was considered by the Tariff Board in its recent inquiry into the Motion Pic­ ture and Television Industry52, and the Board recommended assistance needed for the produc­ tion of Australian programs. During the inquiry evidence was heard from all sections of the in­ dustry, and the Board’s findings were presented to Cabinet in September 1973.

The Board recommended that some divestiture of present-day cinema ownership be made. It also urged that the present concentration of control within the industry be reduced — specifically, the dominance of the prime exhibition outlets by the Greater Union, Village and Hoyts groups — and the necessary measure of competition be created by providing a greater number of suitable alter­ native outlets.

The Board believed that once the exhibition sec­ tor of the industry was restructured, “the normal interplay of market forces will provide the necessary guarantee of equal opportunity for all films on the basis of their box-office merits with little or no government intervention”53. The Board also recommended measures involving the divestiture of shareholding interests by certain parties, to ensure that horizontal and vertical in­ tegration within the industry was sufficiently structured, so that no one company could dominate the marketing of films in Australia.

It further recommended a limitation on the total number of exhibition outlets held by one person or company in certain key areas, and that limitations be placed on the ownership and con­ trol of exhibition companies. A divorcement recommendation was also made and stated that no producer or distributor should control, either through ownership or otherwise, any exhibition outlet — a recommendation deemed necessary to prevent preferential treatment of films made by dominant producer-distributor-exhibitors.

Aware of the constitutional uncertainty of the Restrictive Trade Practices Act, the Board noted the possible use of Section 92D of the Broad­ casting and Television Act (1942-72) which limits overseas holdings in local companies.

The divestiture and divorcement proposals — which were similar to parts of the US legislation — were intended to reverse the trend towards in­ creased duopolization, and expedite the replace­ ment of older cinemas. They were also designed to provide a better range of films, both local and foreign.

It was left to the new Labor government to im­ plement the divorcement and divestiture proposals set out in the Tariff Board report.

But it has not done so, and there are reasons to believe that the proposals have been shelved.

The Labor government has, however, steered through Parliament what has been called in many quarters the most important piece of legislation regulating the conduct of business ever to have been enacted in Australia — The Trade Practices Act of 1974, which fundamentally changes the law on restrictive trade practices and establishes a new agency, the Trade Practices Commission.

The new Act makes the following practices un­ lawful in most instances: contracts; arrangements or understandings in restraint of trade or com­ merce (Section 45); monopolization (Section 46); exclusive dealings (Section 47); resale price maintenance (Section 48); price discrimination (Section 49); and mergers (Section 50).________ * See page 180

RESTRICTIVE TRADE PRACTICES LEGISLATION AND THE FILM INDUSTRY PART II

The Commission is empowered to grant authorizations for contracts, arrangements and understandings in restraint of trade or commerce (other than price fixing of goods, save for joint venture partners), exclusive dealings and mergers, if it is satisfied that they are likely to result in a substantial benefit to the public, and in all the cir­ cumstances they are justified.

Further the Commission has the power to grant clearances for: (a) Contracts, arrangements or understandings which it considers are not likely to have a significant effect on competition; (b) Exclusive dealing of the type referred to in Section 47(2) which it considers would not be likely to have the effect of substantially lessening competition in a market for goods and services, and; (c) Mergers which it considers would not be likely to have the effect of substantially lessening competition in a market for goods and ser­ vices.

The distinction between clearance and authorization is that a clearance is a ruling that the Act does not apply to a particular situation, while an authorization is a ruling that even though the Act does apply, the contract or conduct is justified given all the circumstances. Strong remedies are provided for the Act’s infringement: pecuniary penalties for contravention of Part IV (restrictive trade practices); injunctions; orders for divestiture of shares and assets; and actions for damages for those who have suffered loss or damage.

In addition to the rights granted to the Com­ mission and the Attorney-General, the Act also provides for an aggrieved individual to bring an action. This private right makes the new Act a potentially powerful weapon in the hands of the independent producer, distributor or exhibitor.

An independent exhibitor, for example, might begin by alleging that an exhibition group’s arrangement with a distribution company not to take a product unless it is offered to them substan­ tially before him, is an arrangement in restraint of trade outlawed by Section 45.

Such an arrangement imposes restrictions in respect of the terms or conditions subject to which dealing may be engaged in. It also restricts per­

sons or classes of persons, or the circumstances in which they may be dealt with. It could also restrict a refusal to deal with a second person, ex­ cept on terms disadvantageous to the second per­ son.

Further, the exhibitor might allege that such a restrictive agreement, and indeed the whole dis­ criminatory basis of distribution — exhibition ac­ tivities as outlined in Part 1 of this article — amounts to an offence against Section 46 of the Act, the monopolization provision. This section states that “a corporation that is in a position sub­ stantially to control a market for goods or ser­ vices shall not take advantage of the power in relation to that market that it has by virtue of be­ ing in that position to: (a) Eliminate or substantially damage a com­ petitor in that market or in another market; (b) Prevent the entry of a person into that market or into another market; or (c) Deter or prevent a person from engaging in competitive behavior in that market or in another market.”

Commentators on the new Act suggest that in certain fragmented markets, like the film in­ dustry, the test of market control may well be far less than the 25 per cent share of the market criterion which previously held sway. It will be clear that Section 46 of the Act has far-reaching implications for the independent film producer as well, and might well be invoked by an enterprising individual against distribution companies here, who with the notable exception of Roadshow and BEF have generally refused to become involved in local production, thereby effectively preventing many producers from entering the market.

Penalties under the new Act are sufficiently high for even large corporations to be severely affected. For breaches of Part IV of the Act, the restrictive practices sections discussed, the penalties are a $50,000 fine per offence for an in­ dividual, and a $250,000 fine per offence for a cor­ poration.

As noted, a private individual may initiate an action of his own volition, or lodge a complaint with the Trade Practices Commission or the Attorney-General’s Department. The $100,000 fines recently handed down against Sharp Cor­ poration of Australia for offences against Part V (the consumer protection sections of the Act) show the tough line adopted by the Australian In­

dustrial Court.

Two further points to note are that till now no film exhibitor or distributor has applied for an authorization or clearance for any potentially restrictive practice, and the time for making applications for authorizations expired on February 1 this year. Secondly, a small indepen­ dent exhibitor or producer would almost certainly qualify for legal assistance from the Australian Legal Aid Office, if he were to attempt to bring a private action.

It is true that in the years since the Tariff Board report there has been a new openness and under­ standing within the film industry, in all its sec­ tions. However, it may well be that the only way some of the abuses and excesses practised by dis­ tributors will be eliminated, and the only way the almost total lack of distributor involvement in local production will be changed, is by individual recourse to the new legislation.

FOOTNOTES 25. 23 Halsbury’s Laws of England (2nd ed.), p. 340; Notes (i) to (k).

26. 17 Halsbury's Statutes of England (2nd-ed.), p. 617 27. (1912) 107 L.T. 439 especially Farwell L.J. a t 444 28; (1711) I E.Wms. 181­ 29 (V711) I P.Wms. 1*81 30. 2 Chitty 407, 408.

31. (1937) AC 797.

32. (1892) AC 25.

33. (1925) AC 700.

34. See Sykes, E.I. & Glasbeeck, H.J. “ Labour Law in Australia” , pp. 334 and 333; and Fleming “ Law of Torts” , pp 664-71.

35. (1894) AC 535.

36. De Q. Walker, G. “ Australian Monopoly Law” , p. 28.

37. Supra fn 20.

38. Supra fn 20 at p. 15, para 54.

39. Supra fn 20 at p. 80, para 239.

40. ACTT, “ Nationalising the Film Industry” , 1973-74.

4!. Collinge, J., “ Restrictive Trade Practices & Monopolies in New Zealand” .

42. Supra fn 36 at p. 31.

43. (1930) 8 CLR 330.

44. A.G. (Cth) v Associated Nth. Collieries; (1911) 14 CLR 387; (1912) 15 CLR. 45. (1965) 110 CLR 694.

46. Supra fn 36 at p. 35, footnote 47.

47. Supra fn 36 at p. 35.

48. “ Some aspects of Australian proposals for the control of Restrictive Trade Practices and Monopolies"; (1963) 36 ALJ 363; Barwick, G. See comment by Korah V. (1964) 38 ALJ 190.

49. Supra fn 36 at p. 289.

50. Supra fn 36 at p. 298.

51. (1971) 45 ALJR 485.

52. Supra fn I at p. 1. .

53. Supra fn at p. 19.

Errata and Corrigenda to Part 1 1. Table 4 on p.37 should read City Cinemas not City Theatres. City Theatres are a West Australian exhibition group. Further the word ‘independent’ in column 'I97I-2' should be next to Capitol, not Embassy. The ‘I974’ column,however.is correct.

2. In the fifth paragraph on p. 37 when I state "Prudential Theatres were forced to tie their interests to Village Theatres” I did not mean the word ‘forced* to be used in a strictly literal way. The Capitol could not get product by reason o f the system. Village through Roadshow had access to product. The deal has certainly proved to be a profitable one for Prudential Theatres and they acquired, at tbc time of the deal referred to, a 50 per cent interest in the Swanston Cinema.

Appendix G: Ownership of foreign distribution and exhibition combines operating in Australia (Source: ACTT Nationalization Proposal).

The Rank Organisation “It is generally recognised that the leisure industry is one o f the fastest growing industries in the world today: this is a field in which The Rank Organisation has been active from the first and is now a leader."

The Rank Philosophy Sir John Davis 1. General financial data (a) Capitalisation on April 20, 1973: £637,038,000 ‘A’ (b) Share prices Ordinary Ordinary (i) April 1965 £1-23 £115 (¡1)1972 High £11-75 £11-88 (ill) April 1973 £4-25 £4-25

Rank Group Holdings Ltd. Guaranty Nominees Ltd. (primarily American holdings) Eagle Star Insurance Company Ltd. and Subsidiaries.

Eagle Star, according to The Times 1000, is the 10th largest life insurance company in this country and 7th largest non-life insurance company. Sir John Davis, Rank’s chief executive and chairman, is a member of Eagle Star’s board, and the company has been connected with ATV, Scottish Television, and British Electric Traction.

2. General information (a) Control o f the Rank Organisation

(d) Financial review £ million 1972 1971 1970 (i) Turnover: 195-2 157-C 141-9 (ii) Pre-tax profit 50-4 36-6 33-7 (iii) Capital employed 268-2 238-1 n.a.

53% of the Ordinary shares, or about 8 million shares, is owned

by Rank Group Holdings Ltd. According to Rank's 1972 annual report, the whole of the share capital of Rank Group Holdings “ is ultimately owned by the Rank Foundation Ltd. and the Trustees of the J. Arthur Rank Group Charity (to whom these interests were given by Lord and Lady Rank under arrangements made in 1953) and by the Trustees of the 1961 Rank Group Charity.

The Rank Foundation Ltd. . . is the Company's ultimate holding company."

(e) Shareholdings in the Rank Organisation.

Persons or companies holding more than 10% of the ordinary share capital:

There seem to be at least two other holding companies involved in this rather intricate structure.

Group Holdings Ltd. and F. D. & R. Holdings Ltd. The

(c) Rank by turnover among UK companies: 89th Rank by capital employed: 36th Rank by profit before interest and tax: 21st Source: The Times 1000 1972/73

directors of The Rank Foundation Ltd. are; R. F. H. Cowen, chairman, Sir John Davis, E. L. Giuseppi, J. D. Hutchinson, F. Keighley, Joseph McArthur Rank, and Lord Netherthorpe.

Mr. Cowen, who is apparently Lord Rank’s son-in-law, is also a director of Church and Chapel Films Ltd, and Religious Films Ltd. Mr. Giuseppi is a solicitor, and is a director of a number of other companies including Adjustable Nominees Ltd. Mr. Joseph Rank and Mr. J. D. Hutchinson are directors of Rank Hovis McDougall Ltd. Mr. Keighley is a former chief general manager of the National Provincial Bank, and a director of the Rank Organisation. Lord Netherthorpe is the chairman of Fisons Ltd., a director of, among other companies, Lloyds Bank and Unigate Ltd., and a former president of the National Farmers’ Union.

The Charitable activities of this foundation and the Rank charities deserve further investigation, but the main purpose of the elaborate maze of holding companies is to ensure that the Rank Organisation remains under British control.

There are two kinds of shares in the Rank Organisation, Ordinary and ‘A’ Ordinary, and only the holders of the Ordinary shares have voting rights. About 40 million ’A’ Ordinary shares are held by Guaranty Nominees Ltd.,

and these shares are in the main held by holders of American Depository Receipts.

Although the American shareholders do not have voting rights, they do have a considerable influence on the Rank Organisation's policy since they can always sell their shares. When Rank made a bid for Watney Mann, the American investors were worried about the possible dilution of Rank-Xerox’s profits.

They brought pressure to bear on Rank not to continue with the bid, and Rank‘was eventually forced to abandon this takeover. (b) Recent history The Rank Organisation was almost exclusively dependent on its film activities, but in recent years it has been ‘rationalising’ its film interests which in practice means closing less profitable cinemas and re-developing the sites. The wealth which came from the film industry has been used to diversify Rank’s activities. One almost accidental result of this process of diversification was the Rank-Xerox partnership.

Originally Rank's Xerox interests were managed by the Rank Organisation, but the Xerox Corporation was not happy with this arrangement. Xerox forced Rank to give up its managerial control and to set up a new company. Rank was given a large shareholding in the new company.

Today the profits from this

shareholding dwarf The Rank Organisation’s traditional activities. In 1970, 75% of The Rank Organisation's post-tax profits came from Rank-Xerox.

In 1971, 82%, and in 1972 the percentage was 72%. In cash terms, the post tax-profit attributable to Rank from Rank-Xerox was about £13 million in 1970, about £16 million in 1971, and about £19 million in 1972. Using such massive annual injections of capital, the Rank Organisation has continued its diversification. Rank has in the last few years acquired City Wall Properties, Butlln’s, and Oddenino’s Property and Investment. (c) Turnover and profit analysis o f The Rank Organisation (i) Turnover %

1972 %

Leisure Film exhibition British Isles 14 Overseas 6 (mainly Canada) Dancing and Bingo 7 Motorports and Restaurants 5 Film Studios and Laboratories 4 Film Production and Distribution 3 Hotels 3

1971 %

1970 %

17

20

7 8

8 9

5

4

5

4

3 4

4 4

Audio Visual Leak Wharfedale 51 Principal Activities 10) Radio and Television 28 Scientific Instruments, Optics and 11 Electronics 2 Property Other Activities 2

12 24

12 19

II 2 2

14 — 2

36

36

12 16

12 16

(ii) Pre-tax profit % Leisure Film exhibition British Isles 20 Overseas (mainly Canada) 8 Dancing and Bingo 13 Motorports and Restaurants 2 Film studios and Laboratories 4 Film Production and Distribution 2 Hotels 2 Audio-Visual Leak Wharfedale Principal Activities Radio and Television 30 Scientific Instruments, Optics and Electronics (4) Property 12 Other activities 4 Unallocated Central Costs (4)

!!

1

(I)

11

7

5 0

8 2

(6) 23

O IS

(12) 14 7

_3

(7)

(5)

4

Figures in parentheses indicate a loss for the year.

Continued on pages 182 and 183

Cinema Papers, July-August — tl§

Jack Thompson is, first and foremost, a film actor. Apart from a year of classes with the Ensemble Theatre in Sydney, he has had no formal training.

Thompson began acting professionally in 1967 during the pioneer days of Australian television drama, and appeared in a number of series including Skippy, Motel and the long-running Riptide.

In 1969 he played his first film role (which he describes as “third heavy from the left”) in Girl from Peking.

Then, in 1970, he landed the lead role in a new popular televi­ sion series, Spyforce. At the same time he also appeared in episodes of Homicide and Division Four for Crawford Produc­ tions.

By now Thompson was emerging as a strong actor, able to play a natural Australian character on the screen. In the face of the stranglehold American television series had over the Australian audience this ability gained him considerable recognition.

In 1970 he was given his first role in a major feature film — Ted Kotcheff s Wake in Fright — which gave him the opportuni­ ty to work with an experienced feature film cast and crew.

120 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Soon after, Thompson widened his television experience through parts in Matlock Police, Boney and Ryan; and in the following year he was cast in a major role in a segment of the Australian feature Libido.

In 1974 he played the title role in Tim Burstall’s Petersen — his first feature film lead. The ensuing publicity made his name a household word.

Since then Thompson has played the lead role in the South Australian Film Corporation production Sunday Too Far Away, and recently completed Scobie Malone for Kingcroft Produc­ tions.

With the release of Sunday Too Far Away he has achieved a status rare among Australian actors, and his appearance in a film can now be a major factor in its box-office performance.

In eight years of wide-ranging experience, Thompson has worked with most major local directors, and has personally ex-' perienced the ‘renaissance’ of the Australian film industry.

The following interview was conducted by Sue Adler and Steve MacLean after the premiere screening of Sunday Too Far Away at the Sydney Film Festival. Thompson begins by giving his impressions of some of the directors he has worked with.

JACK THOMPSON

My first real film role was in Wake in Fright. It was a director’s Film and Kotcheff was very dynamic in the way he directed my perfor­ mance.

Working with Ken Hannam was equally exciting but in another way.

Ken provided an aura of calm around the camera and around the scene. That was his dynamic. It made it very’ easy to flow, very easy to work. In that way Ken was in­ spirational, but not as aggressive as Kotcheff, not as Machiavellian in his manipulation of a performance. Ken employs a different directing style.

I prefer an acto r’s director, because only with an actor’s director like Kotcheff can you really extend your craft. You can play your fiddle, play sweet tunes to impress people, but the only time you play better is when there is someone there saying: “ Listen, I know something about fiddles, mate, and you’re not reaching high C. You’re just below it.’’ He knows mechanically what the task of acting is.

could walk down the street and I sup­ pose a few people would have looked at me. But in the eight weeks that I was involved with Roadshow and the promotion of Petersen I couldn’t walk anyw here w ithout being recognized. It was beautifully done.

The PR in this country is fantastic.

We have resources we don’t even recognize. The press and the media are so available given our relatively small population. With Petersen they saturated the entire population in a two-week period. For those two

Do you think you have to travel overseas to work with actorsdirectors like Kotcheff?

No, no, I don’t think I’ll have to leave the country to do it, although I would like to be given the opportuni­ ty to work with people outside Australia, because we’ve made so few films.

In Australia we’re not aware of cinematic style in practical terms.

But if you’ve been making films for five or ten years there’s no effort, no self-consciousness about how long you’ve been doing it.

The last film I worked on was Scobie Malone with Casey Robin­ son. Scobie is a straightforward detective film belonging to a recognizable genre, and it will be full of the style of that genre.

Casey was on the set just about all the time, and you were always aware he was there. But he never got in the way. He produced the film in the true sense of the word, riding it all the way. He was the critic on matters of style and taste, and he wasn’t afraid to look at something he’d done and say: “Jesus, no way!”

Now in Australia, even our wisest filmmaker would have had many qualms about reversing a decision in the middle of making a film. We have to concentrate on keeping a hold on it — keeping it together.

Do you think we need co-productions like “Wake in Fright” to help Australian filmmakers develop more expertise?

One has to be very careful of co­ production, though only in one sense: to make sure you’re not being ripped off. Co-production is very important.

Jesus! Are we going to make the classic colonial error of isolating -ourselves?

Do you think that actors in Australia are subjected to the rigors of PR machinery the way they are in places where the film industry and its resources are more fully developed?

Petersen was a brilliant example of what publicity can do. It was just un­ believable. When I started Petersen I

Top: Jack Thompson and Jacki Weaver in Petersen. A brilliant example of what publici­ ty can do with an actor’s image.

Above centre: Petersen, a vulgar gothic hero.

Above: Thompson in David Baker's segment of Libido, The Family Man.

weeks you got nothing but “Jack Thompson is Petersen.” I couldn’t believe it — they were packaging me as a product!

The popularity happens whether you like it or not. The thing to do is to say to yourself: “ Okay, it’s happening. I understand why it should be happening.” It’s either that or get out. You can’t engineer it and you can’t control it.

My agent, June Cann, takes a look at the work opportunities available and then presents them to me. We’ve sorted out between us what sort of work I like to do. She manages me along those lines. I can’t do it any other way . . . I’m not here to get anywhere, I’m here to do what I’m doing, working for a living — not liv­ ing for my work.

Do you find that the images generated to promote the films you

Above: Thompson in Sunday Too Far Away. Hannam’s direction was dynamic and inspirational.

act in — for example the machismo Petersen image — affect the sort of work you do?

It can be changed tomorrow. The image is made out of the work you do. If you do one role,'and do it well — and there are a number of roles around like that — then producers and d ir e c to r s , p a r tic u la r ly producers, are notoriously conser­ vative when it comes to making

decisions about casting. They will always use someone who has done that sort of thing well before, so you end up becoming involved in an im­ age whether you like it or not.

There was a time when no one would have cast me as a heavy — in fact on the first Riptide I was offered the director wanted to cast me as a heavy, but the producer said: “No, you couldn’t cast him as a heavy, he’s too pretty.” The director Cinema Papers, July-August — 121

JACK THOMPSON

prevailed and I played my first Sunday was originally a brilliant heavy, and when they saw that they story which would have at least made said: “ By C hrist! T h a t’s the a three or four-hour film. But the character we want for that coast­ .script had to be cut out of it, and it guard series!” And that’s how Spy- was put together with a great deal of force came about. love for the story. It eventually turn­ So they see you play a rough ed out — and it certainly did honor Australian character with some the original — but it was two hours veracity and that becomes the attrac­ long. tive thing.

Since then it’s been cut back to 90 But it is confining. I’ve been con­ minutes. There were a lot of people scious of trying to steer my way out who were involved in the making of of type-casting to a certain extent — the film who expected it to look a lot at least by trying to play a range of different to the one that was finally characters. But I can’t seem to es­ shown. cape the current filmmakers’ preoc­ cupation with the p ro letarian Were you one of them?

Australian — which is not necessari­ ly a preoccupation of mine.

Yes; I think that perhaps all the Although, of course, I couldn’t cast were. I think they are all pretty have played the Petersen character happy with the film though. without some understanding of what he was into, some understanding of Not many Australian directors seem to have the final cut. what he was reacting to and what his values were. They are not unfamiliar No, the industry isn’t rich enough to me in this society. They are, for that. We don’t have any directors however, unattractive to me. like Kubrick, for example, who any Initially, does the saleability of a film number of producers are willing to back. That just doesn’t happen here. project attract you?

We have to have very carefully Film that is involved with the vox controlled film production because populi always appeals to me. I don’t we’re so aware of the possibility of particularly want to know about making mistakes — the whole damn anything unless it does have thing has to work every time. audiences. If I wanted to be involved Until we learn to write off a few in film regardless of audience, then I films with some sort of dignity, then would involve myself in experimental we’re not in a position to have that filmmaking where I could indulge sort of freedom. I don’t think we can whatever particular intellectual or write off our failures with any kind of fantastic whims I might have. dignity because as soon as we have I regard being in films as being in one or two, our tails are between our an enormous market place, where legs and we’re pretending it hasn’t there are lots of people selling their happened.

Let the film have its faults — let’s wares — themselves. To survive, you have to want to survive, you have to not find ourselves in a position where be able to sell yourself. Make no we believe the only films worth mak­ bones about it; to say that Tim Bur­ ing are perfect ones — if we do that stall is only interested in making we’re only fooling ourselves. Nine money is absolute nonsense — to say films out of ten don’t work anywhere that Tim is not interested in making for anyone.

It’s a difficult problem because money is absolute nonsense too. But in terms of his films, Tim sells what I everyone wants to make the best film sell, my wholeheartedness — and he possible. Peter Whittle was talking is wholeheartedly and imaginatively to Ted Kotcheff, and he asked: involved to his fullest extent when he “What are you going to do if the film is doing his job of directing a film. doesn’t turn out as you want it to?”

Now whether you like his films or Kotcheff replied: “What would I do? not, the criticism must not come in I would make another film.” If we terms of whether you like what he make errors on the way, all right — sees or projects, you must understand for God’s sake we’re still learning to that what he sees and projects is what make films.

I think Grotowski once said that he believes people want to see pro­ jected. I don’t think for one moment,, the only step worth making in artistic having worked with Tim, that any endeavor is the grand gesture, and one- of his films is not an honest that it should be a wholehearted statement of what he honestly statement. If you blow it you fall flat on your face, and if you can’t take believes.

I personally find Tony Petersen falling on your face you shouldn’t be rather vulgar in a gothic sort of way. in the public artistic arena. If the In fact I think perhaps that is the thing works, then you’ve made a reason Tim does punch people on the significant step in your artistic nose when they don’t like nis films, endeavor.

I must say that the features I’ve because somewhere, the Petersens — ¿he vulgar gothic heroes — really are worked on were all grand gestures in their way. Petersen — whether it Tim’s heroes. succeeds or fails — was a grand A lot of people are hailing “Sunday gesture in that particular area. Now Too Far Away” as one of the best whether a film succeeds or fails is ul­ Australian films evei made. How do timately of less importance than the you feel about that? wholeheartedness that went into making it.

Of course it’s not sufficient to be It probably is. wholehearted; a considerable How did you react to the cuts in amount of skill is needed as well. I “Sunday Too Far A vay?” would hope that we can learn that 122 — Cinema Papers, July-August

skill along the way — supported by our wholeheartedness. That will at least not make us hopelessly depress­ ed by our failures and the errors we’re bound to make. If anyone’s got a quid, let them put that into it, What do you think of the general state of the industry at the moment?

The film industry, along with a lot of other industries, is experiencing a generally depressed financial climate. I said two years ago when the first waves came that I thought we only had two years — and if the government changed back, then that would be about all we’d have.

Lots of people see the industry as having floundered on the rocks or something. We were all a bit elated by the sudden boom and we feel that the waves should be crashing all the time. We have to be able to ride it out. For people to be talking about the beginning and the end of the Australian film industry in a twoyear period is panicky and very negative. It gets a bit hard and peo­ ple start saying that the ship is sinking. It’s not sinking — it’s just not riding as high and dry as it was.

If we can’t weather the economic storm then we’re not likely to become viable.

But films like “Alvin Purple” and “ Petersen” are commercially successful.

Yes, and certainly things will revive enormously with the success of a few more. I think Sunday looks like being a success, and in terms of financial returns Scobie Malone is bound to be too.

FILMOGRAPHY (Credits include) Television 1968 Motel, Silo 15 1969 Riptide, Woobinda, Skippy 1970 Homicide, Division 4, The Rovers, Spyforce (regular lead) 1971 Spyforce (regular lead) * 1972 Matlock, The Evil Touch, Boney, Behind the Legend, Homicide, Ryan, Line Haul 1973 Elephant Boy, Jill Perryman Show, Matlock, Ryan, Homicide Stage 1969 Hamlet (part o f Claudius) for the Union Theatre Films 1969 Girl from Peking 1970 Wake in Fright 1972 Libido 1974 Petersen, Sunday Too Far Away 1975 Scobie Malone '

THE EXHIBITORS *•? S9852>1SETSS? «**''¿¿{¿'

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The 1973 Tariff Board Report on Motion Pictures and Televi­ sion proposed a series of blueprints for multi-national exhibitors and distributors to put their houses in order. Although the major recommendations of the report — concerning divorcement and divestiture — have been indefinitely shelved by the Labor government, Hoyts Theatres Ltd., The Greater Union Organisa­ tion and Village Theatres Ltd., the three main exhibition groups in Australia, have set themselves to a major re-examination of their purpose and function in the Australian film industry.

This re-examination, and its results, is of immense importance to local producers because distributors, with the exception of Roadshow, BEF and Filmways, have stolidly and steadfastly set their head against investment in local production. Thus many producers will find themselves — like Michael Thornhill with Between Wars or Margaret Fink with The Removalists — either dealing directly with exhibitors or, even assuming their film

picks up a distributor at the end of production, liaising extreme­ ly closely with the distributor’s chosen exhibitor to make sure it is not just ‘thrown away’.

Cinema Papers contributing editor Antony I. Ginnane inter­ viewed John Mostyn, newly-appointed managing director of Hoyts Theatres; David Williams, general manager, Theatres Division, of Greater Union Theatres; and Graham Burke, managing director of Village Theatres.

Similar questions were asked in each interview in an attempt to find out where this re-examination has led them. A short history of each of the three companies appears before each inter­ view.

It should be noted that sections of these interviews were con­ ducted by written question and answer. In several instances answers to questions have become statements on a particular area of policy, operation or concern.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 123

THE EXHIBITORS

HOYTS

John Mostyn

Hoyts Theatres was founded in 1908 by a Melbourne dentist, Dr Arthur Russell, with the renovation of an old hall in Bourke St. Melbourne which he called the Hoyts De Luxe Theatre, and the formation of a company called Hoyts Pictures. The venture was successful and expanded to Melbourne sub­ urbs and the city of Sydney by the end of World War 1.

In 1926, Hoyts Pictures merged with Electric Theatres and J. C. William­ son’s Films, a combine of Sir George Tassis and former projectionist Frank Thring Snr. The new company, Hoyts Theatres Ltd., quickly expanded and within two years built large cinema complexes in four States.

In 1932, after heavy buying on the stock market, the Fox Film Corporation (now Twentieth Century-Fox) became the major shareholder and provided Finance for Hoyts to expand all over Australia.

During the Fifties Hoyts completely re-equipped for CinemaScope, Cinerama and 70mm, and, in 1954 began drive-in operations (opening Australia’s First drive-in at Burwood, Victoria). The advent of television, however, forced Hoyts to rationalise its activities and many of the chain’s suburban theaters were sold.

In the early sixties- Hoyts began a multi-million dollar modernisation and replacement program, which is still continuing. With six new theaters in Melbourne, seven to come in Sydney, two in Perth and three in Adelaide, Hoyts is arguably Australia’s best First release chain and a potential goldmine for local producers whose product is competitive.

Exhibition Trends

Hoyts is Firmly of the belief that a large proportion of audience over twenty-Five years of age has been lost to the Film industry and must be retrieved. With this in mind, and for general marketing information, we have initiated a series of studies by Dr A. E. Meadows, formerly University of NSW into patterns of Filmgoing, on a suburb by suburb basis, looking at audience attitudes and expectations.

We intend to engage much more heavily in market research than appears to have previously been the case in the Film industry, and we hope that we will have an informed and logical reason for every move we make in future.

We will be actively co-operating with the W o rk er’s E ducation Association and education groups generally on ways to best utilise our suburban theaters, which are prac­ tically empty these days except on Saturday nights. Many of our new theater installations will have 16mm facilities and the new ‘mini’ Cinema 6 we are building in the foyer of the Mid City complex in Melbourne will be similarly equipped.

As for shorts, good shorts — local or otherwise — are hard to Find, but we are continually on the lookout and would welcome Film producers approaching us with featurettes. We are attempting to encourage dis­ tributors to recognise the drawing power of an outside supporting program and we see this as an impor­ 124 — Cinema Papers, July-August

tant area for an emerging production industry to try out its wings.

Theater expenses in our modernis­ ed com plexes in M elb o u rn e, Adelaide and Perth, and especially in our old theaters in Sydney — which the Trocadero complex will replace — are today such that we do not emerge from a Fiscal year with vast sums of proFit from Film screening.

It is a myth that we are a hugely proFitable organisation, particularly by any measurement of return on current value of assets, or even on funds invested. In fact takings from concessions at our theaters often provide us with our only proFit. This is a reflection largely of the escala­ tion of costs in a labor-intensive in­ dustry, which not only directly affect Hoyts but are passed back to us by our Film suppliers by way of substan­ tially increased Film hire terms.

Twentieth Century-Fox Twentieth Century-Fox does not attempt to influence our day to day trading policies and decisions. We operate on an annual budget which is mutually agreed, and that is the con­ trol which Fox expects Hoyts to observe. Of course they expect a reasonable dividend. We need to refer back to Fox if we wish to signiFicantly deviate from budget in a given area. We neither give, nor as far as we are aware receive, any special privileges from Fox here.

Hoyts’ image, I would agree, has an air of ‘wholesomeness’ about it and we will continue to maintain our high standards of Film selection.

However we are under no obligation to take all or any Film Fox offers us.

Fox Film represents no more than an average of approximately 25% of our gross receipts per annum. This year, for instance, Fox represents only 11% of our receipts.

Distribution Trends We are pleased with the growth of independent distribution outFits in this country in the last few years.

With 7 Keys Films, we have com­ peted successfully for the release of much of their Film through us. 7 Keys’ success has, no doubt, been due in part to its promotions, which are always uniquely creative and im­ aginative.

Similarly, Robert Ward and Filmways have become an important resource. However all decisions made here about Film buying from the distributors are made strictly competitively, on the basis of the quality and saleability of the Film itself and the terms on which we may buy it. We have no franchises or releasing agreements.

Distributors such as Fox not infre­ quently choose to sell to us because of our marketing and retail expertise.

This shows up in an attractive gross return on their Film.

Local Production

I am not so sure that local producers understand our criteria for the purchase of Film from any source.

It must be realised that programm­ ing for cinema is essentially different from programming for television.

Cinema programs cannot be impos­ ed on audiences. The television viewer is virtually locked into the programs appearing on his screen.

The cinema audience, however, simply will not go to a theater ex­ hibiting a Film that they do not want to see. It is necessary, therefore, that Australian-produced Films are com­ petitive with the Film of other sources in standards of technical quality and general professionalism.

Additionally, if the industry wishes to be a commercial success, it cannot allow itself the indulgence of total subjectivity. There are certain known elements in movies which are attractive to audiences and these must be embodied in the product.

We are always delighted to work with Australian producers in the provision of information which might help their judgment of the com m ercial viability of their product, prior to starting the produc­ tion process. Unfortunately, few take advantage of this facility.

Trade Practices Act

I totally agree with any legislation the purpose of which is to eliminate Hoyts is an exhibitor or retailer, unfair or repressive trade practices. I not a distributor or producer, just as equally as strongly believe that the Myers and David Jones are retailers, purpose of this legislation was not to not manufacturers. Hoyts have ab­ correct any injustice by the creation solutely no plans of involvement in of new or different injustices. I know production or, in fact, in any opera­ that Hoyts does not trade unfairly in tion where we believe we lack any way. Hoyts cannot be considered professional expertise. However if we a monopoly, any more than any became aware of a script with poten­ other major retailer of consumer tial, one which we felt should be goods or services in Australia is a made, we would do everything in our monopoly.

It is true that the Twentieth power to assist the scriptwriter, even to encouraging Twentieth Century- C e n t u r y - F o x distribution Fox to become involved. We are organisation, which is separate from most keen to exhibit local product. Hoyts and autonomous in Australia, We have The True Story of tends to prefer Hoyts for the First Eskimo Nell in current release, The release of Fox product, but this is on Removalists is about to go and we competitive grounds. may be screening Inn of the Damned Our terms for Film hire of local and End Play. This is in addition to products are directly in line with numbers of Australian Films which those we pay for Film from any we have already exhibited with mix­ source and are better than for many ed success. I believe the time has foreign releases. Not only have we already arrived when local producers promoted the fair entry of local Film and their distributors automatically into the market but have encouraged think of us as the logical First choice such entry, often at great cost to us. for their releases simply because we do a good job.

Continued on page 185

THE EXHIBITORS

GREATER

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David W illiam s The Greater Union Organisation’s corporate origins lie with three pioneer companies of film exhibition and production: Spencer’s Theatrescope Com­ pany; West Pictures and Amalgamated Pictures Ltd. These companies merg­ ed in 1911 to form Union Theatres Ltd., and its production arm, Australa­ sian Films.

Between 1915 and 1929, Union Theatres built up a network of theaters, constructing cinemas like the Crystal Palace and the Capitol in Sydney for the exclusive screening of films. But the Depression and the necessity to wire for sound hit hard. In fact the market value of Union Theatres’ shares on the ex­ change was completely wiped out and unfriendly banks forced them into li­ quidation.

Greater Union Theatres Pty. Ltd. was formed from the ruins. It im­ mediately linked with Hoyts Theatres forming General Theatres Cor­ poration, in an effort to stabilize film-buying and to standardize economic methods of operation. The outlook, however, remained bleak.

In June 1973, Stuart Doyle resigned as chairman of Greater Union and was replaced by the dynamic young accountant Norman B. Rydge. From January 1938, Greater Union went their own way again, and Rydge set about re-establishing the company’s credit standing and restoring morale in the organization to allay shareholders’ fears. Rydge built up a lavish collection of theater real estate and ended the Greater Union Organisation’s involvement in film production with the closing of Cinesound as a feature unit in 1940.

After the war Greater Union continued expanding its interstate interests.

In 1947 it acquired the Clifford circuit in South Australia, and in the fifties it aligned itself with Birch, Carroll and Coyle in Queensland and Ace Theatres in Western Australia to create a national chain.

A splurge of theater remodelling and rebuilding in the late fifties and early sixties, coupled with investment in drive-ins, successfully combatted the debilitating effects of TV. At the same time the distribution arm of Greater Union, British Empire Films (BEF), also widened its activities and began buying films from all over the world.

In the sixties, Village Theatres sold an interest in its organization to Greater Union, which is now in a very healthy state and has paid regular dividends to its shareholders since 1944. directly with Michael Thornhill for Between Wars; BEF has recently Exhibition Trends finished The Man From Hong Kong; Stone has, or will I believe, cover complete production costs; and The Theatre Division of Greater Greater Union is now a partner in Union is a new entity, and there has Picnic at Hanging Rock, with the been a big changeover in manpower. South Australian Film Corporation If you look at the Theatre Division, and, the Australian Film Develop­ the controllers of film-buying, adver­ ment Corporation (AFDC). BEF will tising, theaters and merchandising distribute Picnic at Hanging Rock, are all young men. There is now a but Picnic Productions have the completely different attitude to films rights for the rest of the world. It will at Greater Union; everybody that be promoted and shown throughout works at the head of a department the Greater Union Organisation. All our people are really involved in this now has to be a film buff.

New attitudes are also being project., We are not knockers of developed towards local production: Australian production, in fact we are Greater Union made a special deal enthusiastic to find the right subjects.

In the sixties we were basically engaged in remodelling our old theaters.

However, it is now that we are go­ ing into our big building stage. We are starting triples in Sydney, Wollongong and Newcastle. We have finished a triple in Brisbane and a twin in Canberra, and we are finishing a quad in Adelaide. The last step will be a six-theater complex in Melbourne.

Is any consideration being given to 16mm facilities, bearing in mind that a good number of Australian indepen­ dent films are being made in 16mm?

I have very strong feelings on 16mm, because I believe 16mm is an inferior gauge . . . and 35mm is in­ ferior to 70mm and so on. I feel a first class theatrical presentation should be in 35mm. That is the professional medium after all. , This, of course, can make it a little difficult for many Australian short filmmakers. It is impossible for them to get government assistance to blow-up to 35mm. I am thinking of all the film material that is in the Vincent Library, some of which Village are now screening in Melbourne.

Tim Burstall recently presented us with two shorts, one made last year and one made the year before: Three Old Friends and The Hot Centre of the World. We are playing both with Petersen at the moment, but reaction is not good. They are getting a worse reception than a travel film that has been promoted.

Local Production “The Man From Hong Kong” was a co-production with Golden Harvest, and a corporation called The Movie Company. Is The Movie Company a Sydney version of Hexagon?

In a nutshell it is rather similar, but it will certainly never become a Hexagon.

What sort of a deal exists between Golden Harvest and The Movie Com­ pany on “The Man From Hong Kong”?

It’s a straight out 50-50 deal.

Many people in the industry are worried about the tendency of Australian production budgets to creep up and up. Hexagon say they won’t fund a production that couldn’t, on conservative film hire estimates, recoup its production investment in Australia. Do you endorse that or do you see the international market easier to get into than they do? .

Take The Man From Hong Kong for example: with Rung Fu and Jimmy Wang you have a market throughout Asia, particularly with Golden Harvest handling it. Alvin Purple, Barry McKenzie and Weird Mob are of solely Australian appeal.

You have to start to take risks out­ side the Australian market.

Picnic at Hanging Rock could be the first big breakthrough. I think it will be more of an international production, particularly because Rachel Roberts and Dominic Guard are playing two of the lead roles. I also think — and I read a lot of screenplays—that Cliff G reen’s screenplay is one of the best I have read. I believe this one has a chance.

But even so the budget will be around $400,000. I wouldn’t want to see it go much over that because we are still taking a risk on its accep­ tance overseas.

It wouldn’t be impossible to recoup that $400,000 from the Australian market. It would only need a box­ office of about $1.75 million.

Continued on page 185

Cinema Papers, July-August — 125

THE EXHIBITORS

VILLAGE Graham Burke Village Theatres began operations as an entity in 1954 when Roc Kirby, Bill Spencer and Ted Alexander opened their first drive-in at Croydon, Vic­ toria. The Kirby group had operated a circuit of hard top theaters in the for­ ties, but none of the partners had in fact ever seen a drive-in. Initial plans were therefore based on imagination and photographs from trade papers.

The theater was an immediate success and attracted a huge family audience. Village opened further drive-ins at Rowville and Essendon, and in the country at Hamilton, Wangaratta and Stawell, and in Launceston, Tasmania.

In 1957-58, Village received a major setback as television began to serious­ ly affect the suburban drive-ins. However, TV was not introduced to country areas until I960, and the overall trading of the group, therefore, remained satisfactory.

The credit squeeze of the early sixties saw a drying-up of risk capital available for expansion, and a general lack of confidence in the film industry caused by the traumatic effect of the closures of so many suburban theaters.

It was at this time that Roc Kirby formed a partnership with Greater Union to establish a drive-in theater at Geelong. This partnership proved so successful that it was extended to other areas, and by purchasing a one-third interest in Village Theatres, Greater Union provided an infusion of capital to enable a fast expansion into new locations. During this period, individual theaters of the Woodrow circuit were offered to Village, and the Rivoli Twin cinemas were developed.

Roadshow was started in 1968 with a few drive-in films and the acquisition of the re-issue rights of South Pacific. These films were so successful that Roadshow was able to obtain a franchise for American International Pic­ tures, giving the company access to a continuing line-up of product.

Simultaneously, Village increased its theater holdings, and with the com­ pletion of a twin cinema complex at Double Bay in Sydney, the group was in a position to offer producers a viable third circuit release in the two principal cities. Soon after, with the establishment of a luxury twin complex in Brisbane, the network was widened, providing Village with an independent national third circuit.

Exhibition Trends The seventies will probably see further expansion into suburban areas with a return to neighborhood houses and local filmgoing. As part of this, drive-ins will probably continue to expand.

Sex movies will inevitably run their race as the public tires of their feast of the forbidden apple, and it won’t be long before audiences will go out to buy soft drinks while couples copulate on the screen. Out of context sex will become boring because it was never meant as a spec­ tator sport — except for a small coterie of lonely old men.

Throughout the seventies, Village will continue to expand. This will in­ clude further expansion with the Dendy organization, following the successful establishment of the Den­ dy, Lonsdale St. This venture was of mutual advantage because we felt at the time that Dendy had access to more specialized films than we did.

Consequently, with the availability of Filmways or Dendy film, Village is ensured of being more successful.

W arner Brothers With the increase in operational overheads in distribution, and the general shrinking of the market due to television, the seventies saw major companies trying to cut overheads i$ all countries. Warner Brothers’ Bur­ bank executives were impressed with 126 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Roadshow’s ability to promote films.

It was primarily due to this, and a desire to cut costs, that a climate was created, whereby Roadshow was able to take over the American Warner distribution in Australia.

Distribution Trends The American Film Theater is for Roadshow the m ost exciting challenge in 1975. lit represents the biggest single investment in our com­ pany’s history. We believe that the American Film Theater is the right format to reach the big audience for quality films that has previously been u n a v a ila b le b ecau se of high prom otional costs. The second season of the American Film Theater in the U.S. is even more exciting and we look forward to a big future in this area.

The term ‘art’ films today has almost become meaningless but our interest is to continue with strong emphasis in this area, and we have recently acquired a group of films, including Costa-Gavras’ Special Product S, the French film Violons Du Bal, and Sweet Movie.

It is cardinal Village-Roadshow policy to always release films of quality in a subtitled version and never dubbed. This, of course, is with the exception of Westerns and films meant for broad appeal to the public.

We also see Australian films as a very significant part of the local dis­ tribution scene in the future.

Roadshow-Village’s relationship with Greater Union during the period has been a happy one, with

Greater Union maintaining the third interest that they acquired in the ear­ ly sixties. Roadshow, however, has s in ce d e v e l o p e d a further relationship with Greater Union as a distributor-exhibitor, but on a non­ exclusive basis.

Roadshow has also sub-distributed through Birch, Carroll and Coyle, and Ace in Queensland and Western Australia respectively, in an endeavour to offset high distribution costs. '

Local Production For Roadshow, Stork proved an extremely beneficial distribution ex­ perience. It showed in practical terms that good profits could be made from Australian films. At first Roadshow had rejected Stork.

However, Tim Burstall’s experiences in four-wall screenings quickly con­ vinced the company of the film’s potential, and subsequent distribu­ tion proved profitable to both Roadshow and Burstall. This gave Roadshow the encouragement to enter local production and a deter­ mination to be successful.

Hexagon Productions was created 50 per cent between Roadshow Productions and 50 per cent between Tim Burstall, Robin Copping and David Bilcock. The philosophy of the company was to create a continuing film production organization. It produced Alvin Purple, and before this was even completed, it produced Petersen. These films were followed

by Alvin Rides Again, The Love Epidemic, Australia After Dark and the recently completed End Play.

Tim Burstall is chairman of Hex­ agon and Alan Finney is its executive director. Complete authority for decisions concerning what the com­ pany will produce is vested in their hands.

It is our philosophy at Roadshow that a production company cannot be successful without distribution and marketing expertise. However, we believe that the distribution peo­ ple should be the minority part of the team when it comes to making final decisions on productions. We can rant, rave, yell and steam, but finally the decision on what will be made must be vested with the creative people.

We hope, however, that our com­ mercial appreciation will help in assessing their judgments, and might even result at times in a ‘one for you, one for me’ basis. But we will only be successful with the right men as head of production. I believe that with Burstall and Finney at the head of Hexagon production plans, we are assured of a long and successful future.

Hexagon, I would hope, has no set or rigid policy of what it will produce and will always retain flexibility as its c re d o . I th in k we have

demonstrated this to date with films as diverse as Alvin Purple, Petersen and, more importantly, End Play, which would answer critics who ac­ cuse Burstall of producing sexist films, because this is a first-rate gripping suspense drama that could be compared to early Hitchcock or even the film Sleuth.

The d e v e l o p m e n t o f a sophisticated and successful approach to overseas selling is vital to the success of the Australian production industry. There is no reason why Australian films cannot be successful in the world market.

The only limitation is our ability to produce and sell our product. It is possible to sell some films to television, but probably the best potential lies in the theatrical market. Alvin Purple was made as a domestic Australian production, and the fact that we have been able to achieve good sales in the U.S. and Britain, and have prospects for a number of other markets, is en­ couraging. Our philosophy at this time in selling overseas is to obtain, at all times, an advance of money up front, because this provides a real in­ centive for distributors to work hard on the product concerned.

Trade Practices Act I d o n ’t believe R oadshow Warners in any way constitute a monopolization of the m arket, because there are still six very vigorous and highly competitive op­ position distribution companies.

F u rth erm o re, the takeover of Warners gave Roadshow a steady flow of product which enabled a base for expansion into A ustralian production. This m eant th a t Roadshow could employ a large team of advertising and publicity people who would be available to work on all films. Without the Warner flow of product it would not be possible to maintain a distribution machine of such a high standard.

Roadshow basically applauds the Trade Practices Act as something designed to encourage fair play in the business community. It has always endeavored to operate on the basis of being equitable, and would hope that the Act, for the most part, would not be necessary in an industry that exer­ cised restraint and intelligence.

‘Franchising’ has essentially been out of vogue for some time, although it is true that films still tend to follow fairly traditional routes. However, it has been Roadshow policy right from the beginning to sell its films where it is felt best for the producer concerned. Right now we are playing films in Greater Union, Hoyts, Dendy and independents, as well as our own theaters.

Continued on page 187

CANNES 75 —

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Antony I. Ginnane The international film festival held yearly at Cannes is in a sense at least five festivals in one. There is the official festival which screens in the main, theatre on the Croisette, and which this year included titles like The Day of the Locust, Tommy, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, and Yuppi Du. This is a prestigious event inasmuch as the producers and/or dis­ tributors of the entrants (and in some cases the governments of the producer’s country) tend to use it as a showcase for themselves and their stars. As a result, films entered in the official festival generally pick up distributors. ^Secondly, there is the Quinzaine des Réalisateurs (the ‘Director’s Fortnight’), which began as a counter festival after the May 1968 student-worker ‘revolution’ in France. It is now a well organized presentation of films that generally approximates what the average Australian filmgoer would regard as ‘festival fare’.

Films chosen for this festival tend to have a left political lean, and once a director has had a film screened by the Quinzaine the chances of his next film being selected are pretty high.

This year’s Quinzaine included Milestones (R o b e rt K ra m e r), Texas C hain Saw Massacres (Tobe Hooper) and Sunday Too Far Away (Ken Hannam).

As films screened in the Quinzaine general­ ly pop up at festivals all over the world during the following 12 months, it was a major coup for Australia’s Sunday Too Far Away to be selected. The screening focussed serious attention on Australian film development in a way the official government-sponsored delegation could never have done.

The Semaine de la Critique (Critic’s Week) is arguably more aesthetically and less politically inclined than the Quinzaine, but has as much, if not more, art house and critical prestige. Philippe Mora’s Brother Can You Spare a Dime opened the seven-film season this year and although Brother was con­ sidered a British production its selection will draw attention to projects Mora works on in Australia.

The untranslatable Les Yeux Fertiles was a daily intermediate feature in the main festival building. This section concerned itself with film versions of other media works and includ­ ed Bergman’s opera film The Magic Flute, as well as two American Film Theater produc­ tions — Galileo, directed by Joseph Losey, and The Maids, directed by Christopher Miles. This was a new section this year and was well received.

By far the most popular segment of the festival is the Film Market section. The Market comprises single and multiple screenings of film s of any kind, presented by their producers, agents or occasionally by their governments (as was the case with the Cana­ dians, Swedish and French) or a combination of both (the Australians).

Entries range from masterpieces (Orson Welles’ F For Fake), to commercially-exploitable sex and violence — notably medium­ core and hard-core porn, which this year made up a fair segment of Market entries.

I propose to comment briefly on highlights of each of these sections as well as discussing the measure of success of the Australian par­ ticipation this year.

But first a note for the Australian daily press, which seemed to concentrate itself on denigrating the Australian fledgling industry’s involvement. To those journalists who con­ tinue to note That Australian films were screened m ‘back street theaters’, I would point out that 90 per cent of aji films shown at Cannes screen in back street theaters, and that of the 31 cinemas in Cannes, 28 are in the back streets off the Croisette.

And to those journalists who made a to-do of the fact that Tim Burstall’s Petersen attracted only 20 people at the first of a series of Australian screenings, I would point out that this screening was a try-out preceding the festival’s official opening and that most subse­ quent screenings of the 15 or more local films on view averaged crowds of around 100 (a good average figure for Market screenings).

And of course at its Quinzaine screenings Sunday Too Far Away played to full houses.

The Official Festival Many of the films in the official festival have either opened, or are about to open in Aus­ tralia. So while Fosse’s Lenny, Antonioni’s Profession Reporter (The Passenger), Scorcese’s Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore and Russell’s Tommy would be worthy of note and discussion I will pass on to other entries.

In my opinion the best film of the official festival was Joseph Losey’s The Romantic Englishwoman, a visually sumptuous and often stunning triptych. Michael Caine and Glenda Jackson fight off ennui by preying on each others’ suspicions, while Helmut Berger — re-working the Mia Farrow role in Secret Ceremony — divides the household and eventually splits it. Losey’s irony is that the Berger character is living on borrowed time himself and the conclusion has the right measure of pessimism and hope. .

West’s story and Waldo Salt’s screenplay is set in Hollywood in the thirties, and at first sight is just a non-freakish version of Heat.

However Schlesinger gives it wider im­ plications, attempting a decline and fall of the West parable, a comment on Nixonian America. The final riot and killing outside Grauman’s Theater is a perfect apocalypse for art, innocence and integrity.

John Schlesinger’s The Day of the Locust — a comment on Nixonian America.

The other major item and probably the most widely praised critically, was the new Werner Herzog film The Enigma of Kaspar Hauser starring Bruno S as a sort of in­ carcerated ‘wild child’. Herzog’s film examines the deadening powers of bureaucratic authority and the viciousness of society’s repressions in a witty and often moving fashion.

Bruno S. in Werner Herzog’s Every Man for Himself and God Against All (The Enigma of Kasper Hauser).

Authority of another kind is considered in the new Costa-Gavras Special Section, yet another treatment of French collaboration un­ der the Nazis.

Especially c ritic a l of the Jesuitical equivocations of Vichy’s lawyers and judges, Gavras’ film combines fast-moving pop politics with a darker sense of tragedy. Cer­ tainly less compromised than most of his re­ cent work.

Glenda Jackson and Helmut Berger in Joseph Losey’s The Romantic Englishwoman.

Another feature of the official festival was John Schlesinger’s The Day of the Locust.

While, in the past, a ponderous, pretentious filmmaker, Schlesinger has at last found a subject on the one hand so intrinsically allegorical and on the other so glittering that he has produced a major work. Nathanael

Costa-Gavras’ Special Section — yet another treatment of French collaboration under the Nazis.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 127

CANNES 75

The Quinzaine Tobe Hooper’s The Texas Chain Saw Massacres lifts cinema violence to a level that will be hard to top in this post-Warhol D rac u la-F ran ken stein age. The film ’s brilliance, like Spielberg’s achievement In Jaws, Is its continued maintenance of suspense. By being plunged into violence in the film’s early stages, the audience cringes at the expectation of what is to come. Here a demented group of ‘Okies’ mutilate a party of picnicking kids — including a wheelchairbound cripple. Once employed by a nearby abattoirs and fired when the plant automated, these violent cretins wage war against the machine age by butchering those who stray into their farm.

Hooper’s imagery — especially a high silhouette in long-shot of one of the cretins chasing a picnicker, the night sky lit by the white trace of smoke from the chain saw and the sound track a screaming mechanical whine — is superb. Hooper rubs our noses in his gore and the effect is rivetting.

Robert Kramer, a former associate of the Newsreel Group and the director of Ice and The Edge, has been working for three years on his 200-minute summation of American p o litic a l history since 1968. Roughly presented in documentary style, Milestones is a sort of underground version of The Trial of Billy Jack; a causes film. Often rambling and diffuse, but frequently moving, Milestones vindicates the views of Kramer and his associates and endorses their claims about American imperialism at home and abroad.

The Taviani brothers’ Allonsanfan is an historical chamberpiece about errant revolu­ tion with a rousing score by Ennio Morricone that manages to overlay the film’s often glib posturing.

Ken Hannam’s Sunday Too Far Away, cer­ tainly well received by the European critics at the festival, has pretentions to a definitive statement on the Australian outback ethos.

While its ensemble of male players, notably Jack Thompson, Robert Bruning and Max Cullen, are consistently believable, Hannam’s direction — especially his camera placement and juxtaposition of imagery — is flat, un­ imaginative and ultimately a dead bore. John Dingwall’s script has the makings of a tough treatise on class interaction and working class politics, but as filmed by Hannam it’s become a series of sweaty tableaux that would make Leone flinch.

Fassbinder’s new film Might Makes Right is his most accessible since All and it will probably be as popular. Ostensibly about homosexuals, it is in fact a Sirkian melodrama about love and possession. Fassbinder himself stars.

Finally, note should be taken of C a h ie rs critic Andre Techine’s feature, Memories of France which features Jeanne Moreau in her best role for 10 years.

Thierry Zeno’s Vase de Noces, the cause celebre and scandal of Cannes.

Thierry Zeno’s Vase de Noces was the and scandal of Cannes 1975.

Whether it succeeded in putting pigophiiia on the map or not is a moot point. It certainly had its director thrown out of the Martinez Hotel for dragging a pig on a leash around with him.

The wildly black humor of Vase de Noces cer­ tainly vindicates the oddball subject matter.

Other titles screened at the Critics Week in­ cluded a version of R. D. Laing’s Knots by British filmmaker David Munro. A sort of musical/theater event with a Pink Floyd soundtrack, Knots was diverting for its 60-odd minutes. Fabio Carpi’s Italian Peace Summer, however, was a heavy and pretentious disser­ tation on death and old age. c a u s e c é lè b re

Les Yeux Fertiles Little more than reference material appeared at Les Yeux Fertiles. Bergman’s The Magic Flute seemed to be a routine recording of the Mozart opera, and Losey’s Galileo was overshadowed by his other fe s tiv a l o ff e r in g , T h e R o m a n t i c Englishwoman. Galileo is greatly inferior; a mishmash of Accident and Figures in a Land­ scape. Topol, however, does give a more restrained performance than usual and all credit to Losey for that.

Christopher Miles who made The Virgin and the Gypsy some time back presented — for the second series of The American Film Theater — a version of Genet’s The Maids with Glenda Jackson and Susannah York.

Both actresses give amazing performances; screaming, biting and frothing at each other in a perverted comment on Albee that leaps in half a dozen directions. Miles’ handling of the material however is stagey and routine.

The Market

The Critics Week Philippe Mora’s Brother, Can You Spare A Dime? opened this week. A medley of ups and downs of Depression life strung together as a parable-comment on the United States today, Brother is noteworthy for Mora’s and editor Jeremy Thomas’ enthusiastic and wildly spirited selection and cutting of material, as well as for much of the rare footage un­ earthed. A more engaging film than Swastika, Brother was one of the few really enjoyable films at Cannes this year.

128 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Orson Welles’ F for Fake — examining the very basis of aesthetic and financial judgments by so-called experts.

The highlight of the Film Market this year was Orson Welles’ F For Fake, a film impossi­ ble to do justice to after a single viewing.

Ostensibly a comment on the lives and lifestyles of two inhabitants of the Spanish isle of Ibiza — Clifford Irving of Howard Hughes

fame, and Elmyr de Hory, the celebrated art forger — Welles in fact examines his views on cinema, his own career, and his own films. He comments on the relationships between film and reality and film truth. By tantalizing his audience with revelations about famous art forgeries — and the critic’s blithe acceptance of them — he queries the very basis of the aesthetic and financial judgments made by so-called experts . . . and by implication his own status as a filmmaker.

The usual cavalcade of sex and violence was also on view. France’s lifting of restric­ tions on hard-core porn meant a diverse selection of Gallic offerings on view for the first time. None were of note. Dutch film­ makers Lasse Braun and Albert Ferro however topped their last entry, Penetration, with the elegant and glossy Sensations, again starring Brigitte Maier.

A Hong Kong kung fu release The Street­ fighter, directed by Shigehiro Ozawa headed the list of offensive gore. Mark Lester’s Truck Stop Women, a personal favorite, featured at several screenings and the director was in attendance. Also of note was Russ Meyer’s new Super Vixens (competently photograph­ ed by Doug Knapp) and Death Race 2000, a new Corman New World action film.

The Australian Representation This year the Media Department and the Australian Film Development Corporation organized an official delegation to the Festival which was endorsed by the Department of Overseas Trade for recognition under the Ex­ port Market Development Grants Act. This meant that participating filmmakers are able to recoup either monies advanced to them by the AFDC (this was done in about a dozen cases) or from their own funds.

Not all participating filmmakers were happy with the manner in which the representatives of the Media Department and the AFDC con­ ducted themselves at Cannes, nor with the Canadian-like ‘umbrella’ structure of the delegation in general.

No doubt they will be putting their own views publicly and privately before 1976. Let us hope they are consulted for their views and experience, unlike the two or three Aus­ tralians present at Cannes in 1974 whose views were not canvassed by Media Depart­ ment officials.

The films themselves performed as anyone with any knowledge of world markets would have expected them to. Brian TrenchardSmith’s action film The Man from Hong Kong was a smash hit and sold in almost every market. Smith’s ability to direct action is — on the evidence of Man from Hong Kong — world class. Richard Franklin’s True Story of Eskimo Nell was sold to all English-speaking territories save South Africa (censorship problems) and some foreign language markets. Stone, Plugg and Inn of the Damned picked up a couple of territories each. Tim Burstall’s Petersen will be the first Australian film to be distributed by a major group in the United States. Sunday Too Far Away was sold to Columbia-Warner for distribution in Britain and deals were made for most territories in Europe. Between Wars, regrettably, less well received than Sunday, picked up some dis­ tribution deals. John Lamond’s Australia After Dark was taken for the US and Britain sight unseen.

Whether the exercise should be repeated again at official level is open to discussion.

Certainly Australian cinema must attract both commercial and critical acceptance overseas if it is to mature. Cannes is one way to attempt this.*

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To commence with July □ CINEMA PAPERS

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issue

143 Therry St, Melbourne, Victoria, 3000

143 T h e rry S tre e t M elbourne Victoria 3 0 0 0

THE 1975 MELBOURNE A N D SYDNEY FILM FESTIVALS In the face of criticism levell­ ed at the festivals that their programs are too narrow in the selection of entries, the in­ troduction of more diverse special screenings may provide Australian audiences with a broader view of developments in world cinema.

In th e C i n e m a P a p e r s coverage of this year’s festivals a selection of feature films from both festivals, the documen­ taries of the Sydney Film Festi­ val, the shorts of the Melbourne Festival, and the special seasons of both festivals have been reviewed.

The selection of feature films reviewed this year was guided to a large extent by the probability of a film being released in Australia in the near future.

Films that have either been bought for Australian distribu­ tion or are likely to be released have not been reviewed here but will be discussed in future issues.

W h i l e in th e p as t the Melbourne ànd Sydney Film Festivals have tended to be the same festival held in two different cities, this year’s events marked a shift in programming which may herald more divergent approaches to the selection of entries in future festivals.

In Melbourne this year direc­ tor Erwin Rado exclusively screened special seasons of films by Hungarian director Miklos Jancso and German films from the co-operative dis­ tribut ion and production organization Filmverlag der Autoren, together with a retrospective of shorts by the Polish filmmaker Piotr Kamler.

Meanwhile, Sydney director David Stratton presented a special season called ‘Salute to Australian Film’, a retrospective of Australian filmmaking from 1911 to 1971.

Feature films screened at this year’s Festivals Films selected for the Sydney Film Festival’s Salute to Australian Film appear in a special Australian feature film checklist on page 137

■ Italy Britain Australia

1974 Wim Wenders 1974 Paolo & Vittorio Taviani 1972 Marco Ferreri 1974 Jack Hazan 1973 John Power

S&M

W. Germany

1975 Reinhard Hauff

S

Britaln/US Hungary

1974 Philippe Mora 1963 Miklós Jancso

S&M S&M

France US Italy Hungary Belgium Spain Canada US Hungary W. Germany

1974 1974 1974 1968 1974 1973 1974 1975 1974 1975

S&M S S&M S&M S&M S&M S S S&M S

Netherlands

1974 Nikolai van der Heijde 1974 Masahiro Shinoda 1973 Arturo Ripstein

S&M S&M S&M

W. Germany France France

Alexander Kluge & 1975 Edgar Reitz 1969 Pierre Jallaud 1974 Yannick Bellon

S&M M S&M

W. Germany Czechoslovakia France France/Switz.

France Hungary Brazil

1974 1973 1974 1974 1973 1964 1974

S&M S&M S S&M S&M M S&M

France/Switz.

1974 Claude Goretta

Alice in the Cities Allonsanfan

W. Germany Italy

The Audience.

A Bigger Splash Billy and Percy The Brutalisation of Franz Blum Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?

Cantata Celine and Julie Go Boating California Split The Circumstance The Confrontation The Conscript Cousin Angelica Dreamland The Day of the Locust Elektreia False Movement Help! The Doctor is Drowning Himiko The Holy Office In Danger and Distress Compromise Means Death Infinite Tenderness John’s Wife Lina Braake and the Interests of the Bank Lovers in the Year One Nada The Middle of the World The Mouth Wide Open My Way Home Night of the Scarecrow Not as Wicked as All That

Japan Mexico

*

Jacques Rivette Robert Altman Ermanno Olmi Miklós Jancsó Roland Verhavert Carlos Saura Donald Brittain John Schlesinger Miklós Jancsó Wim Wenders

Bernhard Sinkel Jaroslav Balik Claude Chabrol Alain Tanner Maurice Pialat Miklós Jancsó Sergio Ricardo

S&M S&M S&M M

M

Occasional Work of a Woman Slave The Oddballs Orders The Passenger Phantom of Liberty The Pistol A Private Enterprise Red Psalm Romancers The Secret Shadowman Shampoo Silence and Cry The Sandglass Snowfall Sunday Too Far Away Snowdrops Bloom in September Still Life Sweet Movie The Valiant Ones A Village Performance of Hamlet With You and Without You Wrong Movement 25 Fireman’s Street

W. Germany USSR Canada Italy France Sweden Britain Hungary USSR France France/ltaly US Hungary Poland Hungary Australia

1974 1974 1974 1975 1974 1973 1974 1972 1974 1974 1974 1975 1968 1973 1974 1975

Alexander Kluge Eldar Shengelaya Michel Brault Michelangelo Antonioni Luis Buñuel Jiri Tiri Peter K. Smith Miklós Jancsó Eldar Shengelaya Robert Enrico Georges Franju Hal Ashby Miklós Jancso Wojciech Has Ferenc Kosa Ken Hannam

M M S&M S&M S S&M S&M M S S&M S&M S&M M S S S

W. Germany Iran International Hong Kong

1974 1974 1974 1974

Christian Ziever Sohrab Shahid-Saless Du$an Makavejev King Hu

M S&M S&M S&M

Yugoslavia

1972 Kristo Papic

S&M

USSR W. Germany Hungary

1972 Rodion Nakcha^petov 1975 Wim Wenders 1974 Istvàn Szabó

M M S&M

Official guests at this year’s Festivals Warren Beatty: American actor-producer, who presented Shampoo Du§an Makavejev: Yugoslav director — now working in America — who presented Sweet Movie

Philippe Mora: Australian director — working in Britain — who presented Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?

Basil Wright: British filmmaker, author and critic, who spoke on the Grierson documentary school

"

Cinema Papers, July-August — 129

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

MELBOURNE A N D SYDNEY FILM FESTIVALS

FEATURES

__ THE A U D IEN C E (L’udienza)

Allonsonfan Pado and Vittorio Tavianl. Italy 1974.

ALLONSONFAN Allonsonfan is about the challenges and ex­ pediencies of political life — about commit­ ment turned sour and causes betrayed. And the fact that it’s set in an exotic piece of the past is not supposed to impair its relevance to the present.

But Marcello Mastroianni as an aristocratic revolutionary yearning, in middle-age, for the comforts his affluent childhood accustomed him to, comes across as more bewildered than saddened, more plaintive than anything.

You can understand his urge for the quiet life, because his old comrades are clearly losers — and upsetting losers at that — but the con­ fusions of the script do not quite allow you to sympathise with him.

Essentially, Allonsonfan is a nineteenthcentury adventure set in Lombardy and con­ cerned with the fortunes of a sect called the Sublime B. Brothers Paolo and Vittorio Taviani, who wrote, directed and produced the film, are lit­ tle known outside Italy but along with Mastroianni, their cast contains Lea Massari ' and the American actress Mimsy Farmer. En­ nio Morricone wrote the music.

What they have done with Allonsonfan is to attempt a sort of moral extravaganza, since Fulvio Imbriani’s (Mastroianni) spectacularly successful struggles with his conscience are carried out against sumptuous sets and dreamily photographed locations. There is much dashing about and a comic opera feel to the big moments, so that the sight of Mastroianni wandering through all this theatrical unpredictability looking as if he had not quite worked out what he was doing there set up some of the same feeling in me.

Good jokes against religion, particularly against the Catholic Church, are in rather short supply, so for that reason alone Marco Ferreri’s TheAudience would be welcome — it is an extended and very effective send-up of the Vatican as a bureaucracy. Like the later La Grande Bouffe it is a joke in what nice people would think of as poor taste, and all the more effective for it.

Amedeo is a former Italian army officer (therefore respectable), who has a message which he wants to convey personally to the Pope, and arrives for a public audience. When the officials realize that he actually wants to speak to the Pope, they give him the runaround, diverting him at first by threats and then by throwing him into the arms of a high-class prostitute who helps the Princes of the Church out in a number of ways.

Frustrated at every turn, he finally dies.

It is a fable of the absolute power of bureaucratic obstruction, the impenetrability of the Church of Rome. Even when he at least whispers his message to a Monsignor at a lavish and expensive dinner given by that per­ son, the response is tears of emotion — but he still does not get to the Pope.

The court of the Pope is full of the prelates and the prostitutes, fascist princes who enter­ tain Portuguese paratroopers (of the old regime), monks who support Mao and sexual liberty, all handled in a manner which makes one think of Buñuel in its coolness and humour.

At the same time the Church is portrayed as a sinister monolithic bureaucracy, untouched by reform even under Big Johnny XXIII, in­ capable of reform, fit only for destruction, a monster of inhumanity.

Unlike Buñuel, Ferreri does not seem to be a captive of the Bakuninist slogan “ if God ex­ isted it would be necessary to destroy him” , but without personal hang-ups sets out an in­ dictment which is the equal of Bunuel’s ridiculing of the Church, and what is more, a program.

P. P. McGuinness

Sandra Hall

The Brutalization of Franz Blum Fteinhard Hauff. West Germany 1975.

THE BRUTALIZATION OF FRANZ BLUM

(Die Verrohung Des Franz Blum) The Audience Marco Ferreri. Italy 1972.

130 — Cinema Papers, July-August

The Brutalization of Franz Blum (directed

by Reinhard Hauff) is not necessarily just a film about life, in prison.

Jim McNeill’s plays, for instance, con­ centrate on showing the isolation and total other-worldliness of the prison lifestyle. Cer­ tainly the performances, script, settings and cinematography in Brutalization make the prison environment totally believable. But on the other hand, segments such as Franz’s ‘election’ as sports club committee president through lobbying and manipulation are a reminder of the political process in the world outside.

Fortune and Men’s Eyes also concentrates on the other-worldliness aspect, showing the prison society as a hierarchy built on homosexuality and brutality into which every prisoner is involuntarily submerged.

In Brutalization, not everyone becomes a ranting, raging, violent homosexual with the odd passive martyr.

The chances are that at some stage you’ll rely on a member of your own sex for some sort of sexual release because he/she is all that is available.

However, the man who Is actually in prison for a homosexual offence is labelled a ‘d e via n t’ and a ‘c h ild fu c k e r’ and the effeminate ‘Maria’ is regarded as a surrogate woman figure. Both are looked on as being quite separate from the mainstream; an at­ titude which seems more closely related to generally held sexual attitudes in society.

This film doesn’t seem to accept the limitations of others of its genre. In fact it assumes that we’ve most probably seen some of the others and doesn’t waste footage on carefully explaining the full mechanics of prison life before getting round to making the points it wants to make.

A competent, believable and thoughtprovoking film which avoids the pitfalls of be­ ing one in a trend.

Jekabs Zalkans

THE C IR C U M S TA N C E (La Circostanza)

Ermanno Olmi’s latest film centers on a middle-class Italian family and the personal crises faced by each member.

Deceptively simple on the surface, The Cir­ cumstance at first appears totally pessimistic, with a cold, distant mother the apparent head of the family; her husband on the verge of los­ ing his job in the wake of a management retraining program; a son who is more in­ terested in electronic experimentation than serious study; and a daughter who finds her mother’s omnipresence inhibiting to her sex­ ual awakening.

Olmi is not only interested in the dramatic situations which bring the family to the brink of disintegration, but also in the change of conditions which can just as easily act as a catalyst in the positive sense. Mother finding a temporary outlet for her affections when she cares for a road accident victim, and a baby born to the elder son and his wife, are two events which move the film onto a more sym­ pathetic plane.

The scenes of cattle being slaughtered and the earlier hints at redundancy are allusions to' the larger issues of current economic and social turmoil, which plague not only Olmi’s metaphorical family, but its equivalent throughout Western society.

Lindsay Amos

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

powerful re-workings of the Medea and Oedipus themes by Pier Paolo Pasolini — the impression of vast scale and historic sweep belies the simple objective fact that the con­ flicts displayed were the political struggles of tiny groups like many others.

But the winners survived, and the reconstruction and mythologizing of their struggles became the stuff of high drama, in the process becoming part of the collective unconscious of the Japanese people.

Shinoda’s film therefore is a major contribu­ tion to the understanding of Japan, not because of any matter of historical accuracy but because by its power and beauty it makes clear how powerful is the Imperial myth.

The Conscript Roland Verhavert Belgium 1974.

THE C O N SC R IPT (De Loteling)

The film is based on a popular novel by the nineteenth-century Belgian author, Henri Conscience, and is set in one of the Flemish districts in 1833.

It is only three years since the revolt that broke the union with Holland (imposed after the fall of Napoleon) and less than 24 months since the establishment of an independent kingdom. The army is raised by a form of con­ scription called ‘De Bloedwet’ (The Blood Law) by which all eligible males draw lots to see who is to be enlisted. Jan (Jan Decleir), a farmer, draws a free lot, but he is bribed by the agent of a rich man to take the place of his son; yet again avarice triumphs over good sense and Jan trots off to be a soldier leaving behind a fetching blonde girlfriend, Katrien (Ansje Beentjes) and his farm.

He thus begins a positively Job-like progression through deprivation and depravi­ ty to blindness and subjugation and ul­ timately, through Katrien’s strength and charity, to hope and faith.

It’s all been lovingly filmed using impressive locations, and Roland Verhavert’s direction is meticulous in its careful avoidance of any sense of superiority over the two simple and honest main characters. At no time does he allow his audience a chance to admit even a chink of cynicism into their appreciation of his film, even though to do so would ease for them some of the tension. In other words he hasn’t copped out and made an escapist film of what is essentially a beautiful (but oc­ casionally depressing) story of the indomitability of the human spirit.

Occasionally Verhavert over-reaches, as when Katrien and Jan visit a nunnery on their way home and it is all Persil-white and gleam­ ing gilt, and populated by improbably stun­ ningly beautiful nuns. But in the main the film is delicately handled and contains some superb atmosphere-evoking sequences, and e xcellent period re co nstructio n . The Conscript is an extremely well-made story of nobility and dignity among the peasants — the sort o f thing Troell does so well; though Verhavert takes a third of the time, and for that we must praise him, too.

Mike Harris

C O U SIN A N G ELICA (La Prima Angelica)

Claimed to be the first film made about the Spanish Civil War from the point of view of the losers, Carlos Saura’s Cousin Angelica ex­ ploits the stylistic device of having actors in scenes set in the present portray either themselves when younger or other roles in the flashbacks to 1936 — the year of the outbreak of the war.

Luis, the central character, is in his forties.

His return to Segovia triggers a series of mainly unpleasant childhood memories: the

Cousin Angelica Carlos Saura. Spain 1973.

p u n ish m e n t Luis re ce ive d when his relationship with his cousin Angelica was dis­ covered is only one of the traumatic ex­ periences which have haunted him for so many years.

The point Saura maizes so effortlessly is that the forces of repression represented by Luis’ conservative relatives (who back the Falange while his father supports the Nationalists), not to mention the. Church, which is portrayed in a manner best described as Bunuelian are the same forces which assisted Franco’s uprising. The success of the film is in the skillful transitions between past and present, and the apparent ease with which Luis (Jose Luis Lopez Vazquez) is able to ‘become’ a 10-year-old through a change in facial expression.

As an attempt to explain the significance of the Civil War to those too young to have fought in it, Cousin Angelica is a worthy com­ panion piece to last year’s Spirit of the Beehive.

Lindsay Amos

Himiko Masahiro Shinoda. Japan 1974.

HIM IKO Masahiro Shinoda’s Himiko tackles what is still one of the most sensitive themes in Japanese society, the origins of the myth of the divinity of the Emperor.

He reconstructs the political power ploys of the tribal, barbaric times when the Imperial family was establishing its role; Himiko, the oracle of the Sun-god, tarnishes her special role by taking as lover her half-brother, and so unleashes a bloody struggle for power.

The tribal and primitive origins of the myths of divinity and power are not treated with dis­ respect or ridicule, but to a large extent this is an essay in demystification of the realities of power and hallowed institutions, of particular force in a country where tradition still has im­ mense political significance.

The stark landscapes, the barbaric ritual, the looming ominousness of the development, together with the magnificent photography, make Himiko strongly reminiscent of the

P. P. McGuinness

THE M IDDLE OF THE WORLD (Le Milieu du Monde)

The ‘middle of the world’ is a no-man’s-land of normalized people: normalized because they spend their time restoring balance after life’s intrusions. But their efforts are like those of a run-down clock whose pendulum swings less and less each time. Despite all the assorted efforts to broaden them, man's horizons are diminishing all the time. Fear shortens the extent to which anyone is prepared to go.

Tanner’s couple fails for these very reasons. Adriana, for all her probing self­ analysis and independence, only ends up knowing what she d o e s n ’t want, not what she d oes. Some may view this as an improvement, but it is essentially a negative position and un­ conducive to a trusting relationship.

Paul, on the other hand, feels confident about knowing what he wants, but is as un­ aware of his own true needs as he is of others’.

He is quite oblivious of all around him, in­ cluding his work and political position — and seems destined to remain the same. Surely one can neither appreciate, nor warm to the needs and wants of others if one cannot sense them in the first place.

Although Tanner minutely details the breakdown in the couple’s relationship, he doesn’t stop there, for he sees their problems as problems on a far greater scale. And it is here that the film succeeds particularly well.

Tanner ties Paul and Adriana’s affair into a socio-political framework, not to attack in­ dustry and politics by association, as in Shampoo, but to suggest that they are but, typical products of such a framework. Their problems and confusions are common ones, shared by more and more each day.

In an effort to sort out these dilemmas peo­ ple are becoming increasingly self-orientated, and the old-fashioned notions of changing to suit your partner looked down upon as in­ vasions of privacy. But it is hard to find answers in a vacuum, and obsessive self­ preoccupation only leads one to Adriana’s un­ fortunate position. Ultimately, it’s very difficult to know if T anner’s im p lica tio n that relationships are dying is true, but as a thesis it was one of the extremely few ideas of note that the Festival produced.

Scott Murray

THE MOUTH W IDE OPEN (La Gueule Ouverte)

While Maurice Pialat’s earlier film L’En­ fance Nue was stylistically inept and un­ necessarily cold in its portrayal of the struggles within a family, The Mouth Wide Open demonstrates a staggering’ reversal of form and places Pialat alongside Bresson and Eustache among French directors.

50 year old Monique Melinand is dying of cancer in her home town of Auvergne, looked after by her husband Roger and son Philippe.

Cinema Papers, July-August — I3l

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

However the film is less concerned with the death of this woman than with the changes it makes on the family. Roger patiently cares for her, but secretly hopes for the end: only to be stricken with grief when it comes.

Meanwhile, he flirts with a customer and a girl in a bar, not because he senses his ‘freedom’, but because it eases the pain — to ignore his sexuality while his wife is incapable of sharing it only makes him feel her pain even more.

Philippe likewise seeks distraction but his encounters with prostitutes leave him with nothing. His relationship with Nathalie is both cool and distant, their only truly shared moments being their brief fucks among bedlinen and meadow grass.

Despite the apparent negativeness of the situation there is warmth as they struggle to give outlet to feelings. They fail and each ends up alone, but their sadness is a very real, very human one.

Pialat has created a very great and moving film, clearly demonstrated by the extraor­ dinary 10-minute take between the mother and son after her return from hospital. They are seated at a table — only Philippe is aware of her true illness. She reminisces about her childhood and her relations, but the sense of passing it conveys is so strong that Philippe can’t bear to hear any more. He goes and puts on a record and they sit together, silent and alone — that terrible moment when one has nothing one can really say, either to console or reassure.

As the track finishes Monique continues her story from where she finished, seemingly oblivious of the pause. But sadly, she is not.

Like Bresson, Pialat tends to stylize reality by paring away all that he deems unnecessary or confusing. The camerawork is nicely sub­ servient and only once does it deliberately in­ trude — the long and harrowing travelling shot away from Roger’s shop, doubly reinforc­ ing the sense of isolation and distance between father and son.

Scott Murray

N IG H T OF THE SCARECROW (A Noite do Espantalho)

A couple of marvellous gimmicks — Hells Angels with pretty pink gauze dragonfly wings adorning their motorbikes, a woman-dragon — do not really rescue Sergio Ricardo’s revolutionary folk opera-ballet from preten­ tious artiness. It has too much of the self­ indulgence of the art-school, the posturing, the over-use of a good gimmick (the dragon, impressive at first, just becomes a bore) and the air of bourgeois children at revolutionary play, to achieve anything like the greatness of the best films of the Brazilian c in e m a n o v o movement.

Glauber Rocha does not seem to be producing at the moment; his last project, in Mexico, ran into censorship difficulties. Ruy Guerra’s Os Deuses e os Mortos (The Gods and the Dead), which was produced in 1970 but was only shown in Paris at the end of last year, seems to have given rise to Ricardo’s in­ ferior imitation, with the sole addition of the urban reference of the motorcyclists.

But it is again a struggle over land between starving peasants and oppressive landlords which is the central theme, with a story in traditional Brazilian folk-literature terms — the hired gunman, the defender of the people, their rivalry for a woman, passion and bloodshed. Into this, as in Guerra’s film, are introduced elements of folk legend, preter­ natural participants in the economic struggle.

But into it, unlike Guerra, Ricardo also in­ troduces a kind of hippie influence which detracts from the power of the myths (by con­ trast, when Alexander Jodorowsky did 132 — Cinema Papers, July-August

something similar in his extraordinary El Topo, he enhanced the traditional legends because he had much greater feeling for them). So despite the merits of Night of the Scarecrow, which are mainly in the music and the photography, it is difficult to see that the attention it received at the Cannes and New York Film Festivals last year had any basis other than sympathy for the c in e m a n o v o , and a wish to think well of its younger Brazilian followers.

P. P. McGuinness

Orders Michel Brault. Canada 1974.

ORDERS

(Les Ordres)

Terrorism, as the label implies, is terrifying to non-revolutionaries, and that means most people. The airport bomb, the hijacking, and the civilian kidnapping all create war zones at random, involving people who don’t want to be involved, and making the previously safe suddenly vulnerable.

They’re hard to defend, and the Canadian propaganda film, Orders, is enormously effective precisely because it doesn’t try. It concentrates instead on one of the side effects of terrorism: the government which over-reacts against it is in danger of manufac­ turing terrorism of its own.

In 1970 a British commercial attache, James Cross, and the Quebec Minister for Labor, Pierre Laporte, were kidnapped by members of the Free Quebec Movement, an incident which prompted the Trudeau govern­ ment to invoke the War Measures Act and arrest and detain 450 suspects without charg­ ing them.

Most, of course, were innocent. The police and the government knew they would be, but were prepared to cause a lot of people a cer­ tain amount of discomfort in order to save two lives. That, I imagine, is the way the issue looked from Ottawa. And Orders’ director Michel Brault has not mounted a moral dis­ cussion about the wisdom of that decision.

He has simply particularized it by detailing what exactly this discomfort amounted to. No one died and the government did not officially condone the extortion of information from people, but it is equally clear, from the testimonies Brault took from 50 people in order to make this fictional reconstructs that some of them were victimised because their guards took a dislike to them, and all of them, arrested suddenly and without ex­ planation, and gaoled as if they were con­ victed criminals, suffered the kind of mental distress which could haunt them for years.

In an unsettling parallel with the procedures associated with totalitarian countries the police come at night, and from then on the detainees are caught in the processing rituals of imprisonment: being photographed, finger­ printed, having to surrender their clothes and don prison uniforms — and then moving, always uninformed, from point to point, until

they reach their final numbing destination, a cell.

Brault treats all this in a careful, documen­ tary way, enlivened by his concentration on half-a-dozen characters whose backgrounds, personalities and reactions are explored with some depth through a vivid and economical script and some fine performances.

Sandra Hall

THE PISTOL (Pistolen)

Countess Alisia von Sward lives alone in the sombre elegance of her ancestors’ castle keeping company only with her memories of a distant but more immediate past.

The present belongs to the grasping bourgeoisie — the man who cheats her when she hocks a family heirloom and a town coun­ cil that would acquire her estate for use as municipal offices; alienated adolescents — they mock her as a grotesque when she dis­ covers them orgying in her cellar; and men who do not return her love with honor — an antique dealer with whom she forms an e le ve n th -h ou r attachm ent displays a treasured gift for sale in his shop window.

Jiri Tirl’s The Pistol charts her determina­ tion to take her own life with an antique pistol that has been in the family for several cen­ turies.

Tirl is screenwriter, photographer, and director of this charming and strangely lifeaffirming little film. It is not a maudlin slingsand-arrows-of-outrageous-fortune piece. The Pistol has wit and warmth.

It has been said that a people who deny their past become culturally psychotic. Tirl’s Countess hates to leave life, but she keeps faith and departs courageously from a sterile present that has denied everything but the short-term future.

Mark Randall

The Secret Robert Enrico. France 1974.

THE SECRET (Le Secret)

This film is a must for all practised paranoiacs and lovers of conspiracy theses. It s a gloriously classic form, realized almost . 'ectly, and only an ignoble pragmatist could find it banal.

Jean-Louis Trintignant as David escapes from some kind of fortress-institution where he has been tortured — it seems. There are some quite remarkable shots of that little trick where water is dripping regularly drop by drop on a person’s forehead, taken from beneath the drip, from the perspective of the person’s eyes. But it could, of course, be an hallucination.

Continued on page 189

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL

DOCUMENTARIES In the familiar cycle of past years the 22nd Sydney Film Festival devoted scant time and little attention to the documentary film.

At best the documentaries were shown as an adjunct to normal programming: at worst simply for their short film entertainment value.

The Oscar-winning Hearts and Minds — perhaps one of the most significant documen­ taries of the decade — was not shown in Sydney at all.

Other major documentaries were relegated to the sub-standard viewing slots of early morning and early afternoon.

However, it seems fruitless to belabour the Sydney Film F e stiva l s e le c tio n and programming committees. They state frankly, and I think truthfully, that Australian audiences have never shown marked preference for, or allegiance to, the documen­ tary form. The Festival audiences come to be entertained, and in their eyes documentaries rate low.

So in the main, Festival-goers ploughed through the usual pot-pourri of shorts to see a few realistic live-action subjects. The average ratio was three Zagreb films of universalist whimsy to every documentary short.

The ‘serious’ documentaries this year were undeniably serious. Sven Nykvist’s The Voca­ tion (Kallelsen) provided moving insights into the missionary fervour of last century. Some attempted social relevance: a team of Cana­ dian Indians made The Other Side of the Ledger to mark the 300th anniversary of the Hudson Bay Company; and This is My House examined a multi-racial tenants’ co-operative In North London. Piet Mondriaan, A Film Essay a Netherlands film on the life of the painter — showed no new insights into the ar­ tist or the art documentary form.

This year there appeared to be an in­ cestuous'(or could it be self-analytical) tendency to make film s about film s themselves. The Canadian com pilation Dreamland told depressingly familiar tales of economic colonialism in the Canadian film in­ dustry; while Gift of Laughter was a lighthearted view of Peter Sellers doing a se­ quel to The Pink Panther. A Pioneer of Scien­ tific Film reminisced about an Italian who made scientific films; and 60 Second Spot took us through the excruciatingly boring, pretentious and expensive process of making a TV commercial. Even Phil Noyce’s Finks Make Movies, an innocent v é rité record of a bikie gang making their annual home movie— was about just that — and not an expose of Australian feature film producers.

With such a line-up one could be excused for feeling we missed something. Well, we did.

Apart from Hearts and Minds, we missed Campanero, the award-winning British documentary about the late Chilean musician Victor Jarra. We also missed Abe Osheroff’s Dreams and Nightmares, a 60 year old con­ struction worker’s return to the battlefields of Spain where he fought with the International Brigades.

Also omitted were documentaries from the Eastern bloc countries, the Soviet Union, China, Africa, Japan, and the Third World nations.

Eighty hours of Australian documentary footage were screened for the judges of the Australian Film Awards this year. Were they all so appalling that only one — the Golden Reel winner — was invited to be screened at the Festival?

Only a very few documentaries at the Sydney Film Festival rated prime viewing time — the most impressive was America: Everything You Ever Dreamed Of, a four-part American v é rité report on bizarre institutions which employs a tight, crisp documentary style that probably won’t be produced in Australia for years to come.

Only two feature-length documentaries managed to puli responsive houses at this year’s festival. First up was Philippe Mora’s mammoth Brother, Can You Spare a Dime?, best characterized as a satirical extravaganza depicting the American Depression years.

Brother was conceived in Britain, produced by an American and directed by an expatriate Australian. Developing in a direct line from Mora’s previous feature, Swastika, Brother shows a mastery of the art of compilation film­ making.

The American film is eminently malleable, and Mora’s scalpel-like editing makes high dramatic use of the possibilities. At times it must have seemed like trying to build a pyramid with cream cheese — but out of all the sentiment, schmaltz, political tub­ thumping and human drama, Mora has weld­ ed a film of massive power.

One of M o r a ’ s m o s t s ig n if ic a n t achievements is the incorporation of irony.

Coming from a generation that attempted to revive satire and celebrate the absurd, he is able to use irony to make many of the film’s. most salient points., Whether it’s James Cagney (on a higher salary than the President) appearing as a sort of thirties Everyman; Hoover’s G-Men machine-gunning immobile cars; or President Roosevelt himself, basking on his yacht while he demands greater sacrifice from the American people; it is the overriding irony that makes Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? such a valuable statement on US society.

Above: Shirley Temple meets J. Edgar Hoover. A scene from Philippe Mora’s compilation documentary Brother, Can You Spare a Dime? Britain 1974.

Also from Britain, but in a totally different style, is Jack Hazan’s first feature documen­ tary — A Bigger Splash — a lush drama on the life and homosexual loves of painter David Hockney.

Hockney is shown as a victim of success.

With considered pacing, the film explores his world as he attempts to paint his way out of a collapsing relationship with a beautiful boyfriend. Hazan, with a particularly English frankness, has caught Hockney like a bee in amber. Impeccable visuals are offset by a langourous, Informal treatment of dialogue and action.

Jack Hazan’s background is documentary camerawork, and his film succeeds in forming a stylistic bridge between documentary authenticity and the need to use dramatic structure to add force to statement. A Bigger Splash Is very much a filmmaker’s film, butjt’s experiments in form mark a hopeful new direction in British cinema. .

Dusan Makavejev’s first Western-financed feature Sweet Movie is a document that is not quite a documentary; a drama that is not o n ly dramatic.

Sweet Movie, like Makavejev’s earlier WR, Mysteries of the Organism, uses a combina­ tion of dramatized footage and material that has documentary authenticity. Both these films have a didactic and motivatory aim, and show an intense concern with the connection between state and personal politics. WR begins with the teachings of Wilhelm Reich and extends into an analysis of Stalinism.

Sweet Movie starts with a depiction of Western sexual archetypes, and ends with a truly shattering rendition of the anarchistic body politic of Otto Muehl’s Milky Way Com­ mune. In both cases Makavejev is attempting to deal with real phenomena.

Sweet Movie can be called documentary because its dramatic characters are not really characters at all: they stem more from agitprop theatre than any naturalistic tra d itio n . Because of the super-real, emotionalized impact of characters like El Macho, Miss World, the Potemkin Sailor, and Marx, the film has a didactic quality usually achieved only in documentary. In effect the dramatic sequences exist only to set the audience up for the documentary — the horror of the Katyn Forest massacre, the dis­ turbing imagery of the Milky Way Commune as they shit, piss and vomit in public. But all the time Makavejev is presenting evidence — documentary evidence of the penalty of repression in our society.

Unlike any other film shown in the Festival this year, Sweet Movie demonstrates the possibilities of documentary material used in a provocative way. Its overall effect was to confront and equip one with material of in­ tense psychological and political relevance.

Above: DuSan Makavejev’s controversial Sweet Movie.A drama with documentary authenticity. France, Canada, West Germany 1974.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 133

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVAL

SHORTS Last Grave at Dimbaza (Britain, Morena Films, 1975), a powerful documentary on South Africa’s racial policies, won this year’s grand prix for the best short. The film was shot illegally, so there are no credits.

The documentary genre covers a variety of possibilities — from the cinema verite record of undirected reality, to the often highly poetic documentary reconstruction. Last Grave at Dimbaza falls in between; the selection of material, narration and editing shapes the material to the film’s stated aim — to reveal the everyday life of the black South African.

The film shows the appalling conditions un­ der which the Bantu live in Bantustans — ar­ tificially created resettlement camps outside the major cities. The South African Govern­ ment plans to move four million Bantu, mainly women, children and aged who cannot work, into the Bantustans — virtually a genocidal at­ tack on the Bantu.

The film works by contrasting scenes of black and white living and working conditions to illustrate the degradation and horror of the former. Scenes, edited dramatically for max­ imum effect, speak for themselves: the bodies of children swollen with malnutrition; black workers having to walk miles to work in the white cities; black ‘nannies’ caring for white children in order to support their own living hundreds of miles away in Bantustans; the Dimbaza Bantustan, where graves have been dug in advance for the children who will die from malnutrition and tuberculosis.

From controlled, yet urgent narration, it becomes evident that even during the hourlong run of the film, six families have been resettled; 60 blacks have been arrested; 60 children have died; and the mines have made a profit of $58,043.

Mr Symbol Man, (Australia-Canada, 1974), which won the second prize, is a documentary on the highly eccentric inventor of an inter­ national symbol-language. He has devoted his life to this end, and his new language has opened up a world of communication for children with cerebral palsy. By mixing camera styles, the directors, Bruce Joir and Bob Kingsbury, oblige us to question the way in which we too readily laugh at an apparent­ ly eccentric inventor.

Experimental (Britain, 1975), scripted, directed and photographed by Robin Lehman, won the third prize. It is a humorous and well-edited account of the numerous machines man has invented to fly.

From These Roots (U.S., 1974), scripted and directed by William Greaves, combined still photographs with narration, including poetry, in a fine attempt to re-create the ‘Harlem Renaissance’ of the twenties. It was one of the best film shorts.

Two documentary re-enactments, A Steam Train Passes (Australia, 1974), scripted and directed by David Haythornthwaite, and Valley Forge (U.S., 1974), directed by Caleb Deschanel, won special awards. Both were craftsmanlike, especially in the imaginative use of sound. However, Valley Forge labored its point — the hardships of soldiers’ lives and the U.S. debt to their sacrifices — by inter­ cutting shots of the frost-bitten, underfed soldiers of the American Revolution (1777-8) with shots of the present-day caretaker of the Valley Forge Park sipping his tea and listening to his transistor radio.

The film was made under the auspices of the Pennsylvanian Society of the Sons of the 134 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Barbara Creed

Revolution which tends to confirm my impres­ sion of its underlying chauvinism.

The other documentaries were focussed on such topics as mountaineering, war, trains, planes, castles, firefighters, hunters, scientists and Rudyard Kipling — all of which I found boring. Even Australian director Dorn Crombie’s Who Killed Jenny Langby?, one of the two documentaries on women (if you don’t count Statue of Liberty: ‘Body of Iron . . . Soul of Fire’, U.S., 1974, directed by Bill Jersey) had nothing new to say. .

Many of the animated films were excellent: Derek Phillip’s The Loser’s Club (Britain), An­ toinette Starkiewicz’ Putting on the Ritz (Britain), P. Szakowicz’ Mimosa (Poland).

Nedeljko Dragic’s Diary (Yugoslavia), one of the most intelligent and satirical, examined big business, prosperity and capitalism through a rapidly evolving series of colorful drawings. Lillian Somersaulter’s The Silverfish King (U.S.), presented a funny, but dis­ turbing glimpse into the mind of a character whose paranoid delusions about his death at the fin of a silverfish were conveyed through an exceptionally witty narration.

Many of the short films used actors either to present a short narrative or to dramatize an idea, an unusual or comic situation. The ma­ jority of them were extremely poor. Ten Moods of Love dramatized 10 Shakespearean sonnets by placing the poet in various situations with his female lover (usually sex­ ual) and with his male lover (never sexual) and having the characters enact a scene accom­ panied by a vojce-over reading of each sonnet.

I Never Promised You a Long Run (U.S. 1972), scripted and directed by Paul Leaf satirizes the double standard with a young woman wanting a one-night stand. Inevitably she is persuaded to change her mind (women are so malleable!) and succumb to manly charms.

John Papadopoulos’ Matchless (Australia, 1974) contained a promising idea ruined by unnecessary dialogue and self-conscious ac­ ting.

The one spark of hope came from Bulls (Australia, Film and Television School, 1974), based on an Allan Marshall short story. Bulls details a young girl’s relationship with her family on an isolated dairy farm. She is terrified of their bull, but more so of her father — the real bull on the farm. Director Christopher Noonan admirably depicts the tension in their relationship through a se­ quence of professionally acted scenes in which dialogue is kept to a minimum.

The dramatic and inevitable outcome is presented in a well controlled final scene.

Bulls is an intelligently made film against which the majority of other shorts appear mediocre.

Above: Chris Noonan’s 17 minute short Bulls. Australia

1974.

MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVAL

GERM AN SEASON Perhaps the most interesting thing about the Melbourne Film Festival’s season of six German films is its origin. The films were brought here by Mr Klaus Bruecher-Herpel, representing the Munich Filmverlag der Autoren, a co-operative distribution and production assistance organization. It was formed in 1972 in response to the familiar pressures of American domination of major distribution outlets, and the lack of organiza­ tion of disparate local groups. The co­ operative first started working with indepen­ dent distributors and extended its activities to the festival circuit (58 films in 22 festivals last year suggests a lot of legwork), while at the same time profitably exploring television sup­ port; a number of films have been supported by television companies with television release two years after cinema screenings.

Among the six films presented, there was a clear division between experimental and

realist styles, a general tendency towards the consideration of contemporary social issues and an almost obvious determination to ig­ nore or avoid the war. (None of these com­ ments, I must add, can apply to Alice in the Cities, a film by Wim Wenders, which I unfor­ tunately missed. His The Goalkeeper’s Fear of the Penalty Kick was one of the more in­ teresting offerings at last year’s festival.)

The most formidable directorial personality to emerge was that of Alexander Kluge, who was represented by two films. Both were marked by a resolutely intellectual approach (the most obvious influence being Godard) to areas of political and social import and a con­ cern with interrelationships far too complex to grasp in one viewing. They were not the most popular of the Festival’s films, because they made few concessions to audience comfort, yet their relentless rigor, their sense of passionate involvement in the urgency of the here and now, were impressive.

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

Above: Alexander Kluge's Occasional Work of a Woman Slave.

Roswltha Bronski (Alexandra Kluge), acting to control her own life, free from dependence. West Germany 1974.

The Occasional Work of a Woman Slave tackles the feminist issue at a more profound and complex level than one realised during the film. The central figure, Roswitha, supports her husband and three children by perform­ ing illegal abortions — she preserves her family by disposing of other people’s — and we are treated to a very clinical and unnerving sequence of one such abortion. Yet the se­ quence is no mere shock tactic; it forces us back to the opening voice-over comment: “ Roswitha feels an enormous power within her and cinema teaches her that this power exists” , which can be seen to apply both to the life-and-death power of her abortionist role and to the way in which the film demonstrates her growth — sometimes com­ ical, often misguided, occasionally naively ex­ hilarating, to awareness of her own power to act to control her own life, free from dependence, and to influence the lives of others in the same direction.

On even the simplest level, and ignoring the inserted slogans, cartoons and quotations (“All families in capitalist society are modelled on the bourgeois prototype. This model is ob­ solete” ), Kluge has taken a woman between dependence and independence, between guilt and non-guilt, between submissiveness and self-awareness, and made her movement towards the kind of document that, I would

humbly suggest, an International Women’s Festival should not be without.

Kluge’s other film, In Danger and Distress Compromise Means Death, is more complex still, beginning with an infuriatingly opaque montage of images before proceeding to a weaving of four separate episodes of diverse kinds. I found it less satisfying, because more puzzling, than the earlier film and I have the feeling that even the use of music (the way in which a familiar piece from II T ro v a to re is given in successively changed, jazzed-up and trivialized versions) suggests Kluge’s sense of precariousness of the contemporary social order. Images of destruction and unrest predominate and the comment of one character that “whatever nature does not destroy is destroyed by men” suggests the mood of gloomy uncertainty.

By contrast, the three realist films at the Festival made less strenuous viewing. Lina Braake and the Interests of the Bank was a joyful and often touching treatment of old age, with a marvellous central plot idea of an old couple, who resent being treated like children, planning and successfully carrying out a plot to swindle a bank which has cost one of them her home. The nice irony is that they are like children in the best sense, in a childlike directness, a refusal to accept the demands to be ‘reasonable’ — other people’s ideas of reasonableness is not theirs.

Snowdrops Bloom in September was a straightforward enough account of the in­ tricacies of an industrial dispute, told from the unionists’ side and with a solidly-sketched-in background of the participants’ domestic or leisure-time concerns. Certainly an interesting document (though never wholly engrossing) but just a little wearisome in its heavily Ger­ manic literalness.

Senior Master Hofer presents a coollydetached account of political and class struggles in a small German town in (I would guess) the late nineteenth century. Earnest and perceptive enough, it reduced dialogue to almost the minimum and was revealing enough without ever suggesting any great im­ aginative spark.

MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVAL

^o«„.

HUNGARIAN SEASON 9 Miklos Jancso'isn’t exactly a popular direc­ tor with Melbourne audiences. Most nights at the National Theatre during the Hungarian season at the Festival the ticket-holders trickl­ ed in and huddled together, isolated by open spaces like characters in a Jancso' film. The season turned out little short of a financial dis­ aster, especially compared with the German series.

The Hungarian season was composed en­ tirely of Jancso films; six of them, from Can­ tata (1963) to Elektreia (1974). The films have a popular reputation for being ‘difficult’; as one filmgoer commented about Jancso': “Oh yes, he’s the man who makes films about horses and nothing happens.” But beyond that, many of the possible Hungarian audience at least may feel antagonistic towards Jancso' for arriving at his own kind of compromise with the communist regime. Dur­ ing The Confrontation one middle-aged Hungarian was muttering away until someone asked him, politely enough, to discuss the film after it was finished. Immediately he jumped up, shouting: “This film is an insult to me!”

Admittedly, The Confrontation (1968) is the weakest of the films shown, dramatizing an extended debate between young party members from the peoples’ colleges and the

students of a Catholic school. And it indicates most clearly the pressures on Jancso' to turn cinema into political propaganda. The arresting quality of his films, though, depends upon a continued and shifting attempt to elaborate a highly distinctive and original cinema style within the bounds of what is con­ sidered politically orthodox.

An early film, My Way Home (1964), il­ lustrated a successful attempt to remove himself from polemics and to image a disturb­ ing set of relationships in the aftermath of war.

The film is set in 1945 during the last days of fighting for the occupation of Hungary.

Already Jancso' has adopted the restless, perpetual camera movement, the slow en­ circling of characters, the pronounced depth of field in shots that open onto empty plains, constant changes in position and perspective from one level to another as characters scramble and slide up and down difficult terrain. The rhythms of daily existence in a largely deserted countryside are beautifully drawn: slow, contemplative and increasingly in tim a te as Jancso' e s ta b lis h e s the relationship between two young soldiers. The film has a dense sculptural appearance that results from camera movements like sweeps of a chisel and exact composition of scenes.

As yet, the dramatic relationships are only suggested and momentarily intensified.

Silence and Cry (1968) appears a more completely integrated film, shot in dazzling black and white from the opening sequence of a man killed against a sandhill and rolling over and over to the bottom. The triangular placing of the killer, the victim and the resting place of his body suggests powerfully a relationship between forces that are represented in these figures and yet quite transcend them.

The story is more fully developed and again set in a period of war, civil unrest and military occupation. The drama develops slowly and obliquely, highly stylized through the camerawork and incessant movement of characters against an open and intractable landscape. Even so, many of the audience were asking at the end what it had all been about. Jancso' doesn’t dwell on the moments of decision, nor on action; his films rather im­ age the conditions within which certain lines of response become possible for his characters.

So, what to television watchers are the decisive moments, the administering of poison to the husband by the wife for ex­ ample, are only passing fragments in the film.

Far more important is the careful delineation of the response of each of the characters to the facts of military defeat and occupation: the grinding, often trivial humiliation, the menace of worse and unspoken reprisals, the dis­ integration of the man and the constant suppressed anger of his wife. The long se­ quences on the farm depict the origins and development of these attitudes, and the im­ mediate consequence of attempted murder is inescapable and relatively uninteresting.

The Confrontation and Red Psalm (1972) are more directly propaganda films, concern­ ed with showing the struggles and eventual triumph of the working class through revolution. Yet they employ very different means.

The Confrontation is about as direct as the title: a relatively undeveloped and possibly clinging autobiographical account of young students and workers in conflict over the place of viole n ce in sp re a d in g the revolutionary message.

Red Psalm is by far the more interesting film, in its intricate choreography of dance and music, its integration of folk tunes and revolutionary songs, its blended and con­ trasted images of flesh, milk, bread, sheep and guns, bayonets, flaming torches and railways. The film assumes the qualities of an extended ballet, and images in a highly fluid way states of oppression, resistance, compla­ cent generosity and defiant hopelessness.

The eventual massacre of the workers by the military is profoundly moving although it is seen to be inevitable.

Above: Miklos Jancso’s Red Psalm. Showing the struggles and eventual triumph of the working class through revolution. Hungary 1972.

Continued on page ¡78

Cinema Papers, July-August — 135

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

SYDNEY FILM FESTIVAL

—

SALUTE TO AUSTRALIAN FILM “ Here, in a motion picture theater, was a vast audience APPLAUDING the opening titles so vigorously as if all were moved simultaneously by the same instinctive im­ pulse . .

This is part of the account given by E v e ry o n e ’s for the premiere of For the Term of His Natural Life at Newcastle in June 1927.

Much publicized and eagerly awaited over the seven months of its production, For the Term of His Natural Life was the biggest, surest bid Australia had made for recognition on the in­ ternational market.

The passing of two years and the introduc­ tion of the talkies meant that For the Term oj His Natural Life was no longer a sure bid overseas, but it was still big, and its backers — Union Theatres — would never again try anything of the same magnitude.

Australian films have always been popular with Australian audiences, but many film copies have disappeared after a successful first release. With the exception of Cinesound films, vintage Australian features have also suffered damage and neglect at the hands of local television stations.

The Cheaters (1929) — arguably the better of the McDonagh sisters’ surviving films — had no release at all, yet it formed a fascinating link with the 24 other features shown at the Sydney Film Festival’s Salute to Australian Fiim. Along with the best of them, The Cheaters is today an Australian film more talked about than seen, and the most valuable aspect to emerge from the Salute has been the opportunity to compare for the first time a wide range of the better Australian films from the years 1911 to 1971.

Others at the Salute to have had more recognition included such titles as Longford’s The Sentimental Bloke (1919) and On Our Selection (1920), Ken Hall’s Mr Chedworth Steps Out (1939) and Smithy (1946), and three epics from Charles Chauvel, Forty Thousand Horsemen (1940), Sons of Matthew (1949) and Jedda (1955). While Chedworth ranks head-and-shoulders above all the thir­ ties films shown, it’s significant to note that by the next decade Ken Hall faced stiff competi­ tion from Chauvel and Noel Monkman.

Monkman’s The Power and the Glory (1941) is a generally tight wartime propaganda piece with Peter Finch in fine form as a ‘nice guy’ spy and superior aerial photography by George Malcolm and Bert Nicholas.

Today, the performances in Forty Thou­ sand Horsemen are much better than one had remembered them to be, but even the never-bettered appearances of Chips Rafferty

Norman Dawn’s For the Term of His Natural Life 1927.

136 — Cinema Papers, July-August

and Grant Taylor are secondary to a crackling pace and the magnificence of Chauvel’s ac­ tion work. Smithy, however, proved the Salute’s biggest surprise. With all aspects welded tightly into a style far better than the average Hollywood ‘biopic’, what lingers most vividly are the performances of Ron Randell, Muriel Steinbeck and Joy Nicholls, as well as the feeling of ‘bigness’ given able support by the music of Henry Kripps and Alfred Hill. By this time, the thirties teamwork of the Cinesound production crew was reaping rich dividends.

The screening of The Romance of Runnibede (1927) in its tinted nitrate form gave the Salute audience a rare chance to appreciate a silent Australian film as originally screened. Like all silent era features and ex­ cerpts shown, The Romance of Runnibede was accompanied by Ron West at the State Theatre’s Wurlitzer organ. Among the 32 feature film excerpts was a particularly im­ pressive sequence from Lawson Harris’

Raymond Longford’s The Sentimental Bloke 1919.

Norman Dawn’s Showgirls’ Luck 1930.

Sunshine Sally (1923). Pictorially reminiscent of The Sentimental Bloke , Sunshine Sally was filmed on location in Sydney. And amid the sound excerpts were two from Harry Watt films, Eureka Stockade (1948) and The Siege of Pinchgut (1959), though judging from the audience reaction these films might have been just as well appreciated screened in full.

Following these came the best of Watt’s work in Australia, an in-full screening of The Overlanders (1946).

For the selection committee, the decision to screen the Ealing film and others made here by overseas filmmakers wasn’t too hard to make. The intention was to put on display the widest-ranging tribute to Australian feature films yet seen, and a good many of the ‘overseas’ offerings (notably from Ealing, and others like The Sundowners and Wake in Fright) have contributed positively to whatever character an awareness of Australian film has had over the last seven decades.

On-stage appearances were another aspect of the retrospective: Ken Hall, Peter Pagan (romantic lead in The Overlanders), Jessica Harcourt (For the Term of His Natural Life), Jack Lee (Robbery Under Arms, 1957), Maslyn Williams (Mike and Siefani), Elsa Chauvel, and Eric Porter (A Son is Born, 1946) all appeared at the State Theatre to in­ troduce their films; and among the audience at various times were others like Vera James (A Girl of the Bush) and two of the three McDonagh sisters.

Looking ^at the Canadian documentary Dreamland, screened at the Sydney Festival proper, made me realize anew what a sub­ stantial and varied film heritage we’ve had.

The Canadian film, wittily written and holding few illusions, is a compilation history of Cana­ dian feature films to 1939. While there’s been a similarity in the political and financial trauma endured by our own and the Canadian in­ dustries, Australia, it seems to me, has been far more adventurous, has taken a greater number of nose-dives, and has made more spectacular recoveries. This much, and a lot more besides, was proved by the Salute to Australian Film.

A 20-page program was also published by the Festival and includes a listing — and some reviews — of all feature films made in Australia to date. The selection committee doesn’t hold itself entirely responsible for whatever errors and omissions have occurred in the published program, and an attempt at rectifying these has been made in the follow­ ing pages.

Wilfred Lucas and Bess Meredith’s The Man from Kangaroo 1919.

AU STR ALIAN FEATURE FILM CHECKLIST ¡3?

SILENT FEATURES 1906 The True Story of the Kelly Gang J. & N. Talt

1907 Robbery Under Arms Charles MacMahon Eureka Stockade George & Arthur Cornwell

1908 For the Term of His Natural Life Charles MacMahon & E. J. Carroll

1909 Heroes of the Cross Joseph Perry

1910 The Squatter’s Daughter or Land of the Wattle Bert Bailey & Edmund Duggan Moonlite — King of the Road or Moonlite, The Australian Bushranger John Gavin Thunderbolt John Gavin

1911 Assigned to his Wife John Gavin The Bells W. J. Lincoln Ben Hall and his Gang John Gavin Ben Hall — The Notorious Bushranger Gaston Mervale A Bushranger’s Ransom or A Ride for Life Caloola, or the Making of a Jackeroo Alfred Rolfe Called Back W. J. Lincoln Captain Midnight, The Bush King Alfred Rolfe The Christian Roy Redgrave & J. MacMahon Colleen Bawn Gaston Mervale The Cup Winner Alfred Rolfe , Dan Morgan — Notorious Australian Outlaw Alfred Rolfe The Double Event W. J. Lincoln The Fatal Wedding Raymond Longford Frank Gardiner, King of the Road John Gavin Gambler’s Gold George Wilkins Captain Starlight — A Gentleman of the Road Alfred Rolfe A Maiden’s Distress, or Saved in the Nick of Time Alfred Rolfe Never Too Late To Mend Johnson & Gibson The Lady Outlaw Alfred Rolfe Life of Rufus Dawes Alfred Rolfe All for Gold or Jumping the Claim W. Franklyn Barrett The Luck of Roaring Camp W. J. Lincoln Mates from the Murrumbidgee Alfred Rolfe The Miner’s Curse Alfred Rolfe The Miner’s Daughter Moora Neeya or The Message of the Spear Alfred Rolfe The Mystery of a Hansom Cab W. J. Lincoln The Wreck of the Dunbar or One Hundred Years Ago Gaston Mervale The Romantic Story of Margaret Catchpole Raymond Longford The Assigned Servant John Gavin The Sundowner Johnson & Gibson Sweet Nell of Old Drury Raymond Longford A Ticket in Tatts Gaston Mervale Way Outback Alfred Rolfe What Women Suffer Alfred Rolfe Keane of Kalgoorlie John Gavin The Mark of the Lash John Gavin The Drover’s Sweetheart John Gavin

Eleventh Hour John Gavin Hands Across the Sea Gaston Mervale The Midnight Wedding Raymond Longford The Mystery of the Black Pearl Franklyn Barrett The Octoroon Rip Van Winkle W. J. Lincoln The Silent Witness Sydney Stirling or Franklyn Barrett *The Strangler’s Grip The Tide of Death Raymond Longford Cast Up by the Sea John Gavin The Crisis W. J. Lincoln Whose was the Hand?

John Gavin The Swagman’s Story Raymond Longford Trooper Campbell Raymond Longford Taking His Chance Raymond Longford Tales from the Bush Woman of the People Called Back Franklyn Barrett

1913 Australia Calls Raymond Longford A Blue Gum Romance Franklyn Barrett The Life of a Jackeroo Franklyn Barrett The Melbourne Mystery ’Neath Australian Skies Raymond Longford Pommy Arrives in Australia or Pommy the Funny Little _ New Chum Raymond Longford The Remittance Man W. J, Lincoln The Reprieve W. J. Lincoln The Road to Ruin W. J. Lincoln The Sick Stockrider W, J. Lincoln & Godfrey Cass Ticket of Leave Man Louise Carbasse Transported W. J. Lincoln & Godfrey Cass *An Australian Hero and the Red Spider

1914 *The Day Alfred Rolfe •It’s a Long Way to Tipperary George Dean •Percy’s First Holiday Sea Dogs of Australia J. S. McCullagh The Shepherd of the Southern Cross Alexander Butler

,

Franklyn Barrett's A Girl of the Bush 1921 The Silence of Dean Maitland Raymond Longford •Sunny South Alfred Rolfe *The Swagman’s Story Raymond Longford

1915 How We Beat the Emden Alfred Rolfe For Australia Monte Luke A Hero of the Dardanelles or The Storming of Gallipoli Alfred Rolfe The Loyal Rebel or Eureka Stockade Raymond Longford & Alfred Rolfe Ma Hogan’s New Boarder Raymond Longford The Rebel J. E. Matthews

1916 Advance Australia Australia Prepared The Bondage of the Bush Charles Woods Edith Cavell W, J. Lincoln Get Rich Quick Wallingford Fred Niblo If the Huns Came to Melbourne George Coates La Revanche The Life’s Romance of Adam Lindsay Gordon W. J. Lincoln & G. £L Barnes A Maori Maid’s Love Raymond Longford The Martyrdom of Nurse Cavell C. Post Mason & J. F. Gavin Murphy of Anzac John Matthews Mutiny of the Bounty Raymond Longford Officer 666 The Pioneers Franklyn Barrett The White Hope Within the Law The Woman in the Case George Willoughby

1917 Australia’s Peril Franklyn Barrett *

1918 A Coo-ee from Home The Enemy Within Roland Stavely 500 Pounds Reward Claude Fleming His Convict Bride or For the Term of Her Natural Life John Gavin The Hayseeds' Melbourne Cup Beaumont Smith His Only Chance Just Peggy Joe Llpman The Lure of the Bush Claude Fleming A Romance of the Burke & Wills Expedition of 1860 A. C. Tinsdale Satan in Sydney Beaumont Smith The Waybacks What Happened to Jean Herbert Walsh The Woman Suffers Raymond Longford The Cornstalks The Skirker’s Son The Squatter’s Wife’s Secret

1919 Coming Home Dad Becomes a Grandad Eureka Stockade Golden West The Octoroon Three Old Maids Woman and Gold Australia’s Own J. E. Ward Barry Butts In Beaumont Smith Desert Gold Beaumont Smith Does the Jazz Lead to Destruction?

Fred Ward The Face at the Window Charles Villlers Hinemoa The Laugh on Dad A. C. Tinsdale Scars of Love The Sentimental Bloke Raymond Longford Struck Oil Diamond Cross A Girl from Outback The Breaking of the Drought Franklyn Barrett The Golden Flame or The Hordern Mystery Harry Southwell The Jackeroo of Coolabong Wilfred Lucas The True Story of the Kelly Gang or The Kelly Gang Harry Southwell The Man from Kangaroo Wilfred Lucas, Bess Meredith The Man from Snowy River Beaumont Smith and John Wells On Our Selection Raymond Longford Robbery Under Arms Kenneth Brampton Shadow of Lightning Ridge Wilfred Lucas

1921

1912 Breaking the News W. J. Lincoln Cooee and the Echo Charles Woods Con the Saughran Gaston Mervale Do Men Love Women John Gavin

The Church and the Woman Raymond Longford The Hayseeds’ Backblocks Show Beaumont Smith The Hayseeds Come to Town Beaumont Smith The Life Story of John Lee — The Man They Could Not Hang Arthur William Sterry The Monk and the Woman Franklyn Barrett The Murder of Captain Fryatt John Gavin The Kelly Gang

Title shot from Raymond Longford’s On Our Selection 1920

The Betrayer, ’Neath the Southern Cross, Our Bit of the World or A Maid of Maoriland Beaumont Smith Blue Mountains Mystery Raymond Longford Dinkum Oil or On the Track of Oil The Gentleman Bushranger A Girl of the Bush Franklyn Barrett High Heels P. J. Ramster

.Cinema Papers, July-August — 137

AUSTRALIAN FEATURE FILM CHECKLIST

W ÊËÊÊÊÊB ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊB ÊÊÊÊIÊÊÊB ÊÊÊÊB ÊÊB ÊÊIÊÊËÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ^B ËÊm

SOUND FEATURES ■ H H H B IH H H B H H H H H H H H H H H H H i

Beaumont SmltJtr%

W THE ADVENTURES OF A L G Y CLAUDE SAM PLER. BAT II IE STUART'. ERIC KATES BULB CARLYLE

A ROMANCE OF ALL

Australia

INALL SORTS Of PLACES

To Be RELEASED S H O R T L Y

nsxw Zealand

BEAUMONT SMITH FILMS s

*

Beaumont Smith’s The Adventures of Algy 1925

Jasamme Freckel’s Love Affair P. J. Hamster Know Thy Child Franklyn Barrett L3e Story of John Lee — The Man They Could Not Hang Arthur Sterry Mated in the Wilds P. J. Hamster Possum Paddock Charles Villiers R etribution Arm and Uonello Rudd's New Selection Raymond Longford Should Girls Kiss Soldiers?

S3ks and Saddles John Wells White the Billy Boils Beaumont Smith The Guyra Ghost Mystery

1922 A Daughter of Australia Lawson Harris East Lynne A Hough Passage FiraiAtyn Barrett The Tate of a Shirt P. J. Hamster The Triumph of Love P. J. Hamster Why Men Go Wrong A Newcastle Knut Lt£3l for Gold Roy Darling A» Australian by Marriage Raymond Longford The Dingo BSesmmeth Brampton The Dmkum Bloke Raymond Longford Prehistoric Hayseeds Beaumont Smith Should a Doctor Tell?

P. J. Ramster Sunshine Sally Lawson Harris Townies and Hayseeds Beaumont Smith , When die Kellys Were Out Hairy Southwell Boy of the Dardanelles The Swaggle's Story Raymond Longford A Daughter of the East Roy Darling

_

Dope

Etesian Webb Fisher's Ghost Raymond Longford How RAcDougal Topped the Score HuSo Marmaduke Beaumont Smith

Joe

Beaumont Smith The Price E tesian Webb Tire Rev. Dell’s Secret P. J. Ramster A Gentleman in Mufti Raymond Longford

Spur of the Moment A. R. Harwood Isle of Intrigue A. R. Harwood Diggers F. W. Thring A Co-respondent’s Course E. A. Dletrick-Derrick The Haunted Barn E. A. Dietrlck-Derrlck & Gregan McMahon

1932 His Royal Highness F. W. Thring Harmony Row F. W. Thring The Sentimental Bloke F. W. Thring On Our Selection Ken G. Hall

Peter Vernon's Silence Raymond Longford The Pioneers Raymond Longford •The Sealed Room Arthur Shirley Should a Girl Propose?

P. J. Ramster Sunrise F. Stuart Whyte & Raymond Longford Tall Timbers Dunstan Webb The Tenth Straw Robert McAnderson Those Who Love P. J. Ramster & Paulette McDonagh My Partner

1933

1927 Environment Vaughan C. Marshall For the Term of His Natural Life Norman Dawn The Kid Stakes Tal Ordell The Man Who Forgot The Price

1934 Clara Gibbings . F. W. Thring Secret of the Skies A. R. Harwood Splendid Fellows Beaumont Smith, The Man They Could Not Hang or The Life Story of John Lee Raymond Longford The Silence of Dean Maitland Ken G. Hall Strike Me Lucky Ken G. Hall When the Kellys Rode Harry Southwell

The Adorable Outcast Norman Dawn .

The Birth of White Australia Phil K. Walsh Caught in the Net The Exploits of the Emden Australian sequences Ken G. Hal The Far Paradise Paulette McDonagh The Grey Glove Dunstan Webb The Menace Cyril Sharpe Odds On Arthur Higgins The Romance of Runnibede Scott R. Dunlap The Russell Affair P. J. Ramster Tanami Alexander MacDonald Trooper O’Brien John F. Gavin The Unsleeping Eye Alexander MacDonald The Rushing Tide Gerald M. Hayle

1935 Grandad Rudd Ken G. Hall Heritage Charles Chauvel •The Burgomeister Harry Southwell

1929

Coorab in the Island of Ghosts Francis Blrtles The Devil’s Playground Victor Bradley Trobriana The Cheaters Paulette McDonagh

Cecil Holmes’ Captain Thunderbolt, completed In 1951

Dad and Dave Come to Town Ken G. Hall Mr Chedworth Steps Out Ken G. Hall Gone to the Dogs Ken G. Hall 'Come Up Smiling or Ants in His Pants William Freshman Seven Little Australians Arthur Greville Collins

1940 Wings of Destiny Rupert Kathner Forty Thousand Horsemen Charles Chauvel Dad Rudd, MP Ken G. Hall

Australasian Rims Ln>PtrSenf

1941

(fa adaptation o f

ijgBSaiw. Marcos Clabkc's

That Certain Something Clarence Badger The Power and the Glory Noel Monkman Racing Luck Rupert Kathner

»BtejN. . im m ortel

1944 The Rats of Tobruk Charles Chauvel

1945 •A Yank in Australia Alf Goulding

1946 A Son is Born Eric Porter The Overlanders Harry Watt Smithy Ken G. Hall . 'V O W I .

KEEP

DAWES. OR r u . .

AWAY

IWOM

^

•

1947 Bush Christinas Ralph Smart

1926 Down Under Harry. Southwell Greenfude Charles Chauvel H as of Hate Raymond Longford Hound of the Deep or Pearl of he South Seas Captain Frank Hurley Jungje Woman Captain Frank Hurley Key of Fate John Gavin Northbound Limited George Palmer

GRANT

TAYLOR M f CHARLES n J r fP W 1* TIN6WELL ] ¡V ' HARR ROSEMARY" A McGUSRE MILLERA

1936 Thoroughbred Ken G. Hall Uncivilised Charles Chauvel The Flying Doctor Miles Mander Rangle River Clarence Badger White Death Edwin G. Bowen Orphan of the Wilderness Ken G. Hall

1925 The Adventures of Algy Beaumont Smith Around the Boree Log Phil K Walsh Bound to Win The Bushwhackers Raymond Longford JeweBed Nights Louise Lovely & Wilton Welch The Mystery of a Hansom Cab Arthur Shirley Moth of Moonbi Charles Chauvel Painted Daughters F. Stuart Whyte Those Terrible Twins £. J. Ward

1938 The Broken Melody Ken G. Hall Below the Surface Rupert Kathner Let George Do It Ken G. Hall Show Business A. R. Harwood Typhoon Treasure Noel Monkman The Avenger A. R. Harwood

Two Minutes Silence Paulette McDonagh The Squatter's Daughter Ken G. Hall Diggers in Blighty Pat Hanna Waltzing Matilda Pat Hanna In the Wake of the Bounty Charles Chauvel The Hayseeds Beaumont Smith A Ticket in Tatts F. W. Thring

1928

1923

1937 Phantom Gold Rupert Kathner It Isn’t Done Ken G, Hall Tall Timbers Ken G. Hall Lovers and Luggers Ken G. Hall Mystery Island Joe Lipman

1931

w it H.

ETC.ETC

1930 King Kut Comedy No. 1 ?Royce Fellers Arthur Higgins, Austin Fay ‘ Out of the Shadows A, R. Harwood •Showgirl’s Luck Norman Dawn

1948 Always Another Dawn T. O. McCreadie •Red Sky at Morning Hartney J. Arthur

1949

A Un i o n M a s t e r w o b Ujd P r o d u c t io n

F. W. Thring’s His Royal Highness 1932

Into the Straight T. O. McCreadie Sons of Matthew Charles Chauvel Strong is the Seed or The Farrer Story Arthur Greville Collins Eureka Stockade Harry Watt

Continued on page 190

138 — Cinema Papers, luly-August

ANIMAT Disneyland to Dismaland

Sue Adler

The recent release of the highly acclaimed Franco-Czech co-production Fantastic Planet, directed by René Laloux, has refocused attention on the animated film as a popular art form en­ dowed with limitless cinematic possibilities.

Fantastic Planet dispenses with the tired tradi­ tion of ‘cute’ characterisation and essays a rever­ sal of the anthropocentric perspective depicted in most animated films. Since the peak of its creative achievements in Hollywood in the forties, the commercial animated film has suffered a steady decline. . Fantastic Planer explores new directions and attempts innovatory narrative devices with a freshness that has not been seen for 30 years.

The animated film as we recognise it today evolved in America contemporaneously with the development of the film industry in general. By the time the Hollywood ‘order’ had established itself, the animated film was a thriving, viable art form, enjoying a great deal of popular success.

As D. W. G riffith fostered technical developments which contributed greatly towards what we now know as the narrative feature film, so Walt Disney laid the foundations of the com­ mercial animated film.

Fantasia marked the climax of Disney’s creative productivity, and following its release in 1940 few new directions were explored and few new stylistic innovations were attempted.

The animated entertainment film has subse­ quently had difficulty in justifying itself commer­ cially, and as a result artistic purity has been greatly sacrificed to the exigency of viability. v Until recently Australia has always adopted a polite, demurely submissive attitude to the inva­ sion of American ‘culture’. A variety of lovelessly mass-produced American cartoon series have, via the ‘A ustralian’ umbilical cable, pumped local television sets full of unremitting, unmitigated mediocrity. The advent of mandatory local con­ tent has done little to change the situation.!^

With the renaissa nce of feature film production in Australia, the structure and development of the local film industry can be more clearly defined.

We are now able to examine the conditions which have prevented animation in Australia from developing beyond the chrysalis stage.

The following airticle examines the rise of animation in America and contrasts it with the non-history of animation in Australia. It sketches out a history of the developments which took place from the pioneer work of Winsor McCay to the rise and fall of the Disney empire . .. and beyond to the degradation animation suffered as an artform when television redesigned it as a vehi­ cle for popular trash.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 139

ANIMATION

The Trouble with Ducks . . .

Animation offers the purest form of cinematic expression: its potential is limited only by the creative boundaries of the human mind itself — and perhaps to some extent, technological exper­ tise. Animation is an existential cinematic medium, eschewing what the semiologists call the pro-filmic event. It is ultimately pure cinema.

The animator’s pen becomes a magic wand: all laws of relativity dissolve and traditional artistic perspectives no longer have relevance.

The following sequence from Chuck Jones’ Duck Amuck (Warner Brothers 1953) not only demonstrates the mechanics of filmic expression itself, but also opens up the possibilities inherent in the animated form.

©

1975 Warner Brothers Inc.

Duck Amuck1 (Dialogue and stage directions.)

All dialogue spoken by Daffy Duck unless otherwise noted.

Florid eighteenth-century swash fanfares.

Stand back, Musketeers! They shall sample my blade!

Touche! Unh! Unh! Unh! Unh! Pan with Daffy swordplaying in period costume, past period castle background, past progressively less detailed sketch-lines o f the background, to a completely blank space.

Musketeers? . . . Hmmmm? . . . En garde . . .? My blade ?

Hey, psst, whoever’s in charge here? The scenery?

Where’s the scenery?

Brush enters frame, paints in farmyard.

Stand back, Musketeers. They shall sample my . . .? Blade . . .? Hmmm? Okay, have it your way.

Daffy leaves frame left, returns with appropriate overalls, hoe, and farmer's hat.

Sings: Daffy Duck he had a farm, ee aye ee aye o . . .

Background changes while panning with Daffy, to Eskimo snowscape. . . . And on this farm he had an igloo, ee. . . aye . . . ee . . . aye . . . ooh (revelation). Would it be too much to ask if we could make up our minds, hmmmm?

Leaves frame, comes back on skis, wearing muffs and winter outfit.

Sings: Dashing through the snow, ya-ha-ha-ha-ha, through the fields we go, laughing all the way . . . eee . . . eee.

Background has changed to flowery Hawaiian jungle: Daffy exits, re-enters frame with lei, ukulele and wraparound.

Sings: Farewell to thee, farewell to thee, the wind will carry back our sad refrai-hai-hai-hai-hai-hai-hain. One last embrace, before we . . . mmmm . . . hmmmm.

On pan with Daffy, background has been downgraded again to sketchiness, and then to white.

Buster, it may come as a complete surprise to you to find that this is an animated cartoon, and that in animated cartoons they have scenery; and in all the years I Daffy is erased.

All right, wise guy. Where am I?

’140 — Cinema Papers, July-August

N mmmm

From Dinosaurs to Dynasties In 1887 Thomas Edison began experimenting with the idea of motion pictures and by 1889, elaborating on the more primitive concept of the zoetrope, he had built his first kinetoscope, a kind of peep-show viewer which held about fifty feet of film. Meanwhile in France, the Lumiere brothers, Auguste and Louis, were already projecting mov­ ing im ag es o n to a sc re e n w ith th e ir cinematographe.

In 1906, the year J. and N. Tait produced the first Australian film, The True Story of the Kelly Gang, the first animated film was attempted in America. A commercial artist, J. S tuart Blackton, had come up with a little divertissement entitled Humorous Phases of Funny Faces; line drawings which didn’t move so much as give the appearance of creating themselves.

The first animator to experiment with timing and characterization was Winsor Zenis McCay, a virtuoso draughtsman whose Gertie the Trained Dinosaur (1914) was the first really popular animated film. Winsor and Gertie aid the vaudeville circuit together with an act which in those days was hard to beat. Winsor would stand on the stage giving commands, and Gertie, up on the screen, would appear to comply. Her piece de resistance was to give the appearance of catching an apple which her ‘master’ would pretend to throw to her.

McCay’s success prompted other producers to start experimenting with animation. By 1913 serialized animated films had begun to appear.

One of them. Colonel Heeza Liar by T. R. Bray explored the possibilities of animated images even further by adding grey tones to the line drawings.

Up to that point everything, including the static background, had to be drawn anew for each frame, until the infelicitously named Bari Nurd came up with the idea of painting characters on separate pieces of celluloid, which have subse­ quently come to be known as ‘cels’.

By 1917 the International Feature Syndicate was releasing animated versions of favorite new­ spaper cartoon strips like The Katzenjammer Kids, Krazy Kat and many others. In the same year Max Fleischer introduced the Out of the Inkwell series, a combination of animation and live action.

By the time Walt Disney had made the first full-color talkie cartoon Flowers and Trees in 1932 the future of the animated film in the cinematic arts was assured.

have mass appeal, engaging to both children and adults. It was a gamble, but it paid off.

The hermetic, magical, deodorised world of homogenised fantasy explored in Snow White crystallised into what was to become the Disney style of animation — described by art historian and critic Erwin Panofsky as: “A chemically pure distillation of cinematic possibilities.” The style is unmistakable, and is sustained by his studio to this day.

Although Disney himself was not a particularly gifted animator or filmmaker, his genius lay in his ability to organise other people’s talents to syn­ thesise and realise his own artistic vision. There are, for example, five directors listed on the credits for Dumbo and six for Bambi.

Disney was obviously conscious of the propaganda possibilities of the animated film. In Snow White, for example, there is a lengthy whistling musical sequence given, basically, to the importance of washing your hands before you eat.

In a recent interview Donald Duck reminisced: “ We were helping to prepare people for, in effect, Dachau.”2

Disney’s moral manipulation — and it’s there alright — is not only well sugarcoated, but in­ tricately iced. And therein lies the essence of all that which is Disney: presentation and enter­ tainment.

After the box-office failure of what was, ironically, his most inventive and experimental film, Fantasia, Disney began to adopt a more mercantile attitude towards film production. By the mid-forties he had begun to lose critical respect: the naive magic of his earlier work had become heavily diluted with financial con­ sideration. The fairytale charm became a com­ modity, and Disney packaged it with mastery.

Donald Duck commented: “Above all he represented a biting parody of the bourgeois entrepreneur in the competitive stage of capitalism.”3

Waif Disney: Entrepreneur 7 of the World to the World While visiting Hollywood in 1930, Soviet direc­ tor Sergei Eisenstein was asked what in American cinema he admired most. He replied: “Chaplin, Von Stroheim and Walt Disney.”

In the face of the then popular opinion that feature-length animated cartoons could never compete with live action, Walt Disney spent three years half-calculating and half-dreaming his first animated feature Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs (1937) into realisation. The entire project was cleverly masterminded to ensure that it would

©

1975 Warner Brothers Inc.

Although here Duck is talking about his wealthy Uncle Scrooge, he could easily be referr­ ing to his erstwhile long-time employer and friend. Walt Disney was the supreme packager: Disneyland itself is the perfect illustration.

Hollywood, taken in the overall view of film history, was the point at which the cultural

ANIMATION

dilemma of industry and art came closest to resolving itself. Art could make money and money could make art. In the context of this en­ vironment Walt Disney showed that animation is, on all levels, a viable form of cinematic ex­ pression.

Of course, the Disney phenomenon by no means constitutes the whole of Hollywood animation. Many other studios (notably Warners, with an output of approximately 1,000 titles from 1930 to 1963), were also involved in the creative popularisation of animated entertainment films.

But whereas the raison d’etre of other big studios was live-action production, Disney’s was the only one devoting its greater interest to animated films.

Mass Mediocrity and the Murder of Magic By 1953 television was posing a serious threat to the American feature film industry, but Hollywood studios were still producing their regular quota of animated films for theatrical release. In that year alone the seven major studios — Disney, MGM, Param ount, Twentieth Century-Fox, Universal, Warner Brothers and Columbia — released a total of 142 cartoons and animated features. None of these were offered to television.

By 1957, however, deals were being transacted, and fairly soon the floodgate burst. The Hollywood anthropomorphic animal population promptly packed up their roadrunner traps and cans of spinach, and migrated en masse to daytime television.

For those who anticipated the production of animated films for television, it became evident that new approaches would have to be formulated to cope with the exigencies of the new medium.

For a start it meant turning out fifty feet of film a week instead of fifty feet a year!

Bill Hanna and Joe Barbera (refugees from MGM retrenchments) were aware of the virgin pasture in the field of television cartoons, and quickly synthesized a streamlined production-line method which they called ‘planned animation’ — a term referring simply to the ruthless reduction of the animation technique to its bare marketable essentials. Movement was reduced to a minimum and expensive backgrounds were dispensed with.

Bill Hanna explained: “Disney-type full animation is economically unfeasible for television; we discovered that we could get away with less

”4

Whereas Disney had fallen from grace for allowing commercialism to enter his philosophy rather more than it should in one who deals in dreams, the Hanna-Barbera team cared very little about creating rainbows: they held greater store by the pot of gold at its end.

Australia: Animation Farm Australia does not have a history of continuous animated film production. Of course there have been sporadic bursts of interest, but generally these have not been sustained for very long.

During World War I, Harry Julius was making minute-long polemical cartoons as part of the Australasian Gazette newsreel.

In 1929 Eric Porter, one of the first Australians to make a career as an animator, began producing animated shorts. His first film, however, Ginger Meggs (1931) hasn’t been released to this day.

During the Second World War production companies such as the Owen Brothers in Melbourne were commissioned by the Depart­ ment of Information (now Film Australia) to produce a series of two-minute propaganda films for wide release in cinemas.

There had been a slow but steady stream of animated advertising film production, but the molehill eruption didn’t really pop until television finally arrived in Australia in 1956.

The major reason that American animated films were able to develop both artistically and commercially was that the studios which made them usually controlled their own distribution companies, and in many cases their own exhibi­ tion outlets as well.

The healthy growth of any kind of film produc­ tion in Australia has always been severely han­ dicapped by the fact that local distribution houses are set up to function primarily as organs for the greater interests of overseas parent companies.

Production costs have also inhibited the growth of animated film production in Australia. To make a fifteen-minute animated entertainment film here currently costs between $20,000 and $30,000, depending on the standard of production.

Selling such a film to television is a highly un­ likely event. Networks do buy the occasional special, but prefer to buy packages of 20 to 30 episodes. Television series require high volume production, which in turn requires a large volume of money.

Selling to local television is not impossible but it is impractical. The returns barely cover the in­ itial cost. One must go elsewhere, and the U.S‘. is the only market large enough to offer the recovery of costs in one hit.

Unfortunately, however, no Australian-owned animation house has ever managed to successfully negotiate a network sale in the U.S. API, the Australian house which mainly produces with an eye to overseas markets, has only sold a few ‘specials’ to American television.'The antipodean branch of Hanna-Barbera trades regularly with the States, although the product isn’t, strictly speaking, Australian.

The only remaining outlet for animated films is theatrical release. However, in the face of quality Canadian Film Board and other PR shorts offered free to exhibitors and the growing trend towards double feature bills, this is not easy.

Some distributors are buying locally-produced shorts. However, as any local filmmaker will verify, it is virtually impossible with the deals that are offered to cover costs, let alone show a profit.

Then one must bear in mind that the average fifteen-minute animated short usually costs three times more to produce than a live-action short of the same length.

In the past few years the Australian govern­ ment has provided many filmmakers with the financial means to experiment, but it would seem that in the case of animators these grants are not really enough. To make an animated film ef­ ficiently requires the work of many individuals — layout artists, animators, in-betweeners, and others — who are both necessary and expensive.

There are few short cuts.

Australia does have talented animators who are able to produce work on a par with overseas stan­ dards. It is estimated that at present there is a floating number of between 600 and 900 people employed on the production of animated footage.

The majority of these are engaged in commer­ cials, which constitute between 35 and 40 per cent of all animated work being produced in Australia.

In a climate which seems inhospitable to in­ dependent animated film production, commercial work offers the best opportunity for creative animation.

The other 60% of Australian animated work is devoted to the production of shorts, TV series and the occasional feature — mainly by API, HannaBarbera and Eric Porter Productions.

Until recently Hanna-Barbera have used their Sydney branch as a sort of animation farm, doing all the ‘creative’ work themselves in Hollywood and sending very detailed briefs, storyboards, character designs and sound tracks to Australia where it would be laid out, animated, shot and sent back.

It is interesting to note that in many cases the names of the Australian animators have not appeared on the credits. This arrangement has had its good points and its bad. Although the animators are paid very big money, the work is seasonal. The peak production period is from May to December, at which time the staff swells to 140. But in the ‘off period it is reduced to a skeleton operation, holding only 20 or so.

The Light at the End of the Tunnel Despite the prevailing inhospitable climate, in­ dependently produced animated films are starting to appear and gain recognition.

At the Cannes Festival in 1971 Kim Humphries’ animated film Please Don’t Step on My Sunshine attained the distinction of being the only Australian film to be placed on the official program.

At the 1973 Australian Film Institute Awards, Eric Porter’s animated feature Marco Polo Junior Versus the Red Dragon was not only the first animated film to win the Director’s Prize, but it was the first animated film to win an award at all.

At the present time there are a number of animated films in production (aided for the most part by government grants): David Deneen and Val Udovenko from Film Graphics are currently engaged in the pre-production of Cubic (30 minutes); Kim Humphries from Film Australia and Ned McCann are making Quick, Follow that Star (20 minutes); and Gary Jackson is com­ pleting Give the Dog a Good Name (10 mifiutes) . . . to name just a few.

Given the continuous support of the govern­ ment in the form of grants, subsidies, loans, and (hopefully) quotas, local animators may be freed from some of the restrictions imposed by the rigors of financing, distribution and exhibition.

Australians may then be able to make original and innovative animated films and help to restore animation to its standing as a popular art form. * * * In following issues of Cinema Papers the work of Australian animators will be considered in more detail.

FOOTNOTES 1. From Duck Amuck by Richard Thompson, Film Comment, JanFeb 1975.

2. This mock interview with Donald Duck, written by Dave Wagner, appeared in Radical America, No. 1, 1973.

3. Ibid.

4. From “TV Animation: The decline and pratfall of a popular art”, by Leonard Malton, Film Comment, Jan-Feb 1975.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 141

Dealing or dabbling in politics on film has become fashionable and even necessary to a wide grouping ■of' contemporary European directors. Several of their films have been shown in Australia during the past five years, no doubt stimulated by the commercial success of CostaGavras’ Z, released in 1969. He followed this with The Confession in 1970 and State of Siege in .

1972. These three films dealt respectively with the murder in 1973 of a Greek left-wing politician, Gregorios Lambrakis; with the Stalinist purges carried out in Prague in 1950-51; and the murder of an American adviser. Dan Mitrione. by the Tuoamaros in 1970.

A short and selective list of ‘political’ films might include Investigation of a Citizen Above Suspicion, made by Elio Petri in 1970; two films, in the same year, from Bertolucci — The Spider’s Strategy and The Conformist; The Garden of the Finzi-Continis from Vittorio de Sica; and Makavejev’s WR: Mysteries of the Organism.

These films raise basic questions about the power of the cinema to persuade people to think and even act differently; about the cinema’s capacity to embody complex and subtle values in concrete characters and figures; and about the depiction of shifting, and perhaps ambiguous, relations between ideology and personal beliefs, and the ways these shape events.

Such a broad grouping of films raises two ' points of particular interest. The first, in view of the large claims made for what has been referred to in Cinéaste as a new genre in the history of cinema, is to try to assess implicit assumptions about the nature and capability of film, about the order designated by the word ‘politics’ and about the filmmaker’s own involvement and intrusion within his films.

I’ll take up these points in relation to two of these filmmakers — Costa-Gavras, who is com­ monly regarded as the originator of this style of cinema, and Bertolucci, who is the most in­ teresting and obscure. This is not to imply that these two directors polarize the field. In a later ar­ ticle I’d like to discuss the films of Petri, de Sica and Makavej'ev.

The second point of interest lies in the way these films are seen to embody a particular relationship between director, audience and critics. This relationship depends upon an assum­ ed consensus of political views, a kind of orthodoxy about what are the central issues in contemporary politics or, perhaps more ac­ curately, how a contemporary political conscience is formed, why some political systems are chosen and not others and what the relationship might be between ideologies and events (usually how la­ ment is transformed into prophecy). So in a recent edition of Cinéaste, a critic talks of “ . . . this new awareness” which comes from “ many filmmakers who are now examining the whole notion of political film.”

142 — Cinema Papers, July-August

A good deal of critical discussion of these films, and even com m ents from the directo rs themselves, reinforce the impression of a common understanding about the dramatic function of politics. In practice this rapidly becomes the political function of drama. The relation between documentary and fiction tends to break down, as it does in some modern literature — Armies o f the Night, for instance, by Norman Mailer (referred to by Pauline Kael as “our genius in literature” to distinguish him from Brando, who is “our genius on film” .)

Although these films may focus on similar issues and problems, they do so in radically different ways. Yet they are so often reduced to their supposed common elements, as though politics is a commodity to be packaged and bought under different brand names.

The final rationale for this sort of attitude was expressed last year by Ramon Glazer, during an interview in Melbourne when he brought his film Traitors to Australia. “All art,” he said, “is utilitarian and must serve the purposes of the revolution.”

The primary judgment that must be made is not one of the relevance of a particular ideology whether it be Marx, Freud or Reich (that about exhausts the present possibilities), but on the style, the cinematic qualities that distinguish the film. The tendency to identify films with their makers (so the life-style includes and assumes the critical judgments) and the ready flow of taperecorded interviews contribute to the creation of

Above: an American adviser (Yves Montand) is kidnapped by urban guerillas in State of Siege.

an instant jumble sale in which journalists, critics and directors trade on each other’s conceptions, ambitions and hang-ups. This results in a readiness to accept intention for effect, to reduce all effects to what can best assimilate to verbal communication (and beyond that to newspaper prose) and to personalize all issues.

An apparently common theme among different directors is no guarantee of mutual interests and intentions. However there have been a number of attempts to classify these films according to a common concern that is supposed to characterize each of them in varying measure. These make critical sense only if you assume one of the following: that cinema as an art form is incapable of the subtlety of literature or drama and can be assessed only by reducing effects to the level of ex­ plicit and simple statement; that the film in ques­ tion is engaged with politics at the level of finding answers to questions that are formulated irrespec­ tive of the film; and that cinema is to be under­ stood as a weapon in a revolutionary struggle to overthrow capitalism, or even some of its agents.

In this last case, the simplifications are considered to be deliberate and the film is understood as a call to action.

But all these assumptions reduce the films I want to discuss to far less interesting or even com­ pelling works than at least some of them .might appear. There seems to be little necessary cor­ respondence between the effects they create and

POLITICAL CINEMA

says little for the creative imagination of the film­ makers if they are simply “searching for a theory to account for this type of latent or manifest homosexuality accompanied by a sense of frustra­ tion that finds relief only in continued acts of sadistic brutality.” So Wilhelm Reich is quoted as the guiding prophet whose ideological connections rescue such a diverse group of directors.

Mellen goes on, “Petri, Bertolucci and Visconti subscribe to Wilhelm Reich’s sense of the connection between vulnerability to fascism, and, as Reich put it, ‘the repression and distor­ tion of the sexual life.’ ”

Above: Z: The Examining Magistrate (Jean­ Louis Trintignant) is the hero; the hope that law will re-assert the individual’s rights against tyranny.

Or again, “Subscribing to this theory, Visconti, Bertolucci and Saura treat the fascist sensibility in the genre of the family chronicle.”

The critical attempt to imprison film directors within any theory implies failure on their part if they don’t live up to its demands. So we find this: “ Hysterical psychologizing in the worst moments of Investigation, for example, is, in part, a result of the failure of the director to examine the historical relation between the parties of the working class and a capitalism approaching a fascist solution to its problems.”

Or another example: Above: State of Siege: playing insistently upon what we are presumed to know is the case in .

South America.

Above: Z: political assassination.

But Mellen offers a more general explanation of these films. She goes on to say that they: “ . . . integrate within their texture three major areas of exploration: the social dynamic and means by which fascism functions, the nature oOthe resistance to fascism and, most successfully, the dissection of the personality particularly susceptible to fascism with its configuration of homosexual anxiety and sado-maso­ chism” .

Having discovered the unity and central con­ nections, Mellen discusses the conditions under which this “reawakened interest” developed: “The upsurge of revolution in the colonial world has meant, for young intellectuals like Bertolucci, an im­ petus for reassessing the recent political history of his country. And the worker-student struggles of France and northern Italy in the late sixties suggested an alter­ native to the capitulation to fascism no longer passe'; directors are sensing the possibility of new fascist repression or even its rise to power in the advanced capitalist countries. It has made them feel the urgency of examining the history of fascism and see the study of fascism as relevant once again.”

Above: In Costa-Gavras’ State of Siege we are spared nothing, not even a public demonstra­ tion of shock ‘therapy’.

the terms of the theory they are supposed to il­ lustrate. This kind of critical persuasion risks dis­ torting the individual qualities of each film and, perhaps more seriously, risks reducing film to the equivalent of planned propositions about a par­ ticular system of politics.

As a recent example we might take a long arti­ cle in Film Quarterly by Joan Mellen titled ‘Fascism in the Contemporary Film’. This is her opening paragraph: “The last few years have seen among serious young European directors like Bertolucci, Costa-Gavras and Saura a resurgence of interest in fascism, not as the arena for physical combat between absolute forces of right and wrong, but as a social phenomenon. These directors, and they include such older, established figures as Visconti and Petri, reveal a reawakened in­ terest in examining its social structure and its psy­ chological origins in the mass man who is most suscep­ tible to fascist movements” .

At the outset, these directors are grouped together, not in terms of historical pressures or stylistic qualities, but according to a common theme. Their “resurgence of interest” is stated quite simply as one of two possible alternatives and their concern is stressed as a “ social phenomenon.”

The point is important, because one of the characteristics of the article is that statements about the supposed content of films assume stylistic references as well. ‘Social realism’ becomes a style and finally a standard of art in a more subtle but no less real way than that laid down by the Soviet Writers Congress in 1934.

Wide-ranging political trends, or trends in dis­ sent and repression (represented in the above quote by the ubiquitous “it”) become the specific conditions for “ reassessing recent political history” or “ suggesting an alternative” .

Immediately the argument moves from content to style, describing the kind and type of films in terms of assumptions about their purpose and content: “The new films exploring the fascist sensibility are among the most interesting and challenging work being done in the film today. When they are at their weakest, these films substitute melodrama for a sustained dramatization of the circumstances under which capitalist countries have resorted to fascism.”

The general characterization of the aims of these films is thus supported through an implicit description of the way they work. At their best, they offer “a sustained dramatization,” at their weakest, melodrama. This use of key critical terms simplifies the conception of both drama and melodrama by assimilating them to an implicit understanding of some sort of realism, as though the film must make present and account for large social and political movements.

This assumption is repeated throughout the ar­ ticle. For example, “A film treating the origins and methods of fascist power should concern itself with the social and historical milieu in which the charismatic leader con­ vinces the masses of people to follow him.”

A further implication within this approach is to assume that the forces within a particular society that lead to unrest, civil disobedience and perhaps insurrection can be adequately grasped and described within the terms of any theory. Even if you accept that this is what these films attempt, it

“ In his refusal to deal with the politics of fascism, concentrating as he does on the evocation of milieu, Visconti too abstains from the question of resistance and why it failed. The cause lies in his lack of interest in dramatizing the history of the period.”

This kind of comment betrays an uneasy apprehension that perhaps the theory about the connections between sexual life and fascism doesn’t fit the films as exactly as it might. So we are offered a curious reason for the small part played by the fascists: “ Illustrating the directors’ awareness of the tran­ sitory impact of fascism is the disappearance of any theory of government or coherent program of change at the end of the films they dominate. And at the end of The Conformist in 1943 the fascist party disappears as if it had never existed,”

Apart from a fairly crucial distinction that needs to be drawn between ‘fascism’ and ‘the fascist party’, Bertolucci may have been interested in other kinds of change. Why, after all, does change need to be ‘coherent’, except on a social planner’s diagram? Correspondingly, the level of insight offered into what the theory does allow on screen is at times disappointing: “Z, The Damned and Investigation illustrate how the more secret the working of an organization, the greater its power.”

The steady and complete transference of the critic’s vested interests to the filmmaker’s work appears in Mellen’s final paragraph: “Yet it is no less true that because the distortions of the personality make people both susceptible to fascism and poorly equipped to transcend it, man is not absolv­ ed of the important task of creating a social environ­ ment which will produce saner human beings. It is this dimension which we miss in the recent anti-fascist films.”

This dimension (of sensitivity? common sense? responsibility?) may be missing in the recent anti­ fascist films, but it is not the business of criticism to restore the balance. Essentially this style of criticism interprets and unifies artistic experience in terms of a felt moral urgency. The critic has taken up the crusade that he finds represented on film. Politics has become a matter of simple moral absolutes; the actors, the motivation and probable destiny are declared beforehand.

Partly for this reason, such criticism deals largely in plurals, in centralized groupings, and tends to ignore specific differences which might alter the entire pattern. Explanations of particular films tend to be either predictive or therapeutic.

So we find phrases like “the important task of creating a social environment which will produce saner human beings” or “the quest for psy­ chological health in these films” or, in The Con­ formist, “a call for solidarity for those oppressed by fascism.”

Such criticism identifies the point of view of a director with a simple and consistent program and confidently locates fragments in any of his films.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 143

POLITICAL CINEMA

So the critic can refer equally to the director or his films in any given context. This pervasive tendency fails to respect the autonomy of the ar­ tist, both because it summarizes and because it summarizes wrongly. It assumes that the artist, as well as the critic, is simply a social engineer, that his works can be explained and interpreted in terms of a prior commitment to social change, if not revolution. It also assumes a surprisingly literal correspondence between the verbal language of the theories the films are supposed to exemplify, the language of the criticism itself and the effects achieved on screen.

The article I have discussed is not an isolated case, but focuses a contemporary and fashionable critical interest in relating sexual and political behaviour. In a later article in Film Quarterly, called Sex and Politics, James Roy MacBean takes on the same field although he extends his coverage.

MacBean does mention the article by Joan Mellen, but, although he disagrees on points of detail, he accepts her basic assumptions. Talking about the implication that not all homosexuals display a compulsive sado-masochistic pattern, he says, quoting Mellen:

Above: The Conformist

“ ‘The implication is not that homosexuals all dis­ play such a pattern. Too many homosexuals are artists, rebels and gentle people for that.’ Here I think Mellen misses an important point: the implication which needs guarding against is not the obvious oversimplification that all homosexuals are fascists, but rather the more insidious oversimplification that all fascists are homosexuals or have latent homosexual tendencies.”

The whole argument bears a curiously tangential relation to the film that is supposed to have started it all, Z. The only real link lies in the murderers Yango and Vango, and how many peo­ ple remember them? In a more general sense, it’s odd that Costa-Gavras is regarded as the originator of “this new genre” . His films actually reinforce the two crucial elements of traditional propaganda films: firstly their instrumental in­ terest in politics and a concern for the mechanics and not the causes of violence; and beyond that, they focus always on the exercise of violence rather than the way in which power is used and played upon.

This confusion of violence and political power only reflects an essential simplification that in­ volves the other traditional element — an attempt to teach a simple lesson through cardboard enter­ tainment. As Costa-Gavras has remarked, “You don’t catch flies with vinegar.”

His first attempt came with Z, made in French, just a year after the worker-student uprisings in France. Essentially what the film attempts is to draw out the threads of a state system of con­ spiracy. It takes a striking political gesture — the assassination of the deputy Lambrakis — and carefully follows through, picking up clues, to associations between the murderers and the government. The editing is tight and insistent, the musical score by Theodorakis pulsating in rapid, menacing rhythms. The drama focuses on the role of the prosecutor, played by Jean Louis Trintig­ nant as he slowly unravels the connections and comes to understand that the government is im­ plicated at the highest levels.

Costa-Gavras has heightened the tension by simplifying and reducing the conflicts. He has laid out the mechanics of the assassination, relying upon speed and shock to sustain the drama. He cuts rapidly between the Bolshoi ballet and the protest meeting in a nearby square. The camera focuses in unexpected and disconcerting close-ups on the generals and colonels at the film’s opening as they listen to a lecture on the moral welfare of the state.

But the director doesn’t intend to create any kind of surreal effect; the film relies for its tension upon an implicit acceptance that this is reality; closely-observed, external relationships.

The script betrays the film’s didactic intentions, hammering the clash between left and right. So the speaker tells his assembled military audience that the holy tree of national freedom is suffering from the dry rot of ideological mildew.

144 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Above: Bernardo Bertolucci’s The Spider’s Strategy. The village fascists.

Above: The Conformist: Marcello Clerici (Jean-Louis Trintignant) visits his father at the state asylum.

From this point, characters are rapidly in­ troduced — the power elite, who are middle-aged, gross, awkward and insensitive. Then the young protesters — sincere, direct, passionate in their dedication to a cause, and insisting that all they want is peace.

Costa-Gavras justified this particular piece of stylizing during an interview. He said this: “ I think all young people are good-looking. Even if they are ugly they are good-looking. If you take a person fifty or sixty years old, the government ministers, say, they are not good-looking not because of their function, but because of their age. I met something like twenty or thirty Tupamaros and they were all very good-looking. The same goes in France with young people who are extreme left wing, because they are you, you see.”

This view might well be termed a plastic mode of revolution or seen as a justification in purely aesthetic terms for continuous revolution as each generation topples their ripe elders. In Z the out­ standing figure is Yves Montand playing a young, dispassionate intellectual, trying to inject some asperity into flabby political views. Montand symbolizes resistance to unjust repression, but his combination of innocence and determination is conveyed in his shining eyes, his erect physical stance. He appears moulded to the part.

And so the film continues to play off one smooth surface against another. Incidents follow each other rapidly: protest, murder, riot. Then to the hospital where the fatally-injured deputy has been taken: long-shots of operating theaters and X-ray rooms. The film plays upon a fascination with technique and this reflects exactly its in­ strumental approach to politics. Political values, exist outside individuals: in the relation between general, prosecutor, victim and the anonymous mass who never enter the film, except as a jostling crowd on cue.

With the entry of Trintignant, the film’s focus settles down. He is the hero, the hope that law will re-assert the individual’s rights against tyranny.

But this hope is never made specific. We don’t see just who the individuals are, nor are we shown why the generals cling to power. The ends are all assumed, it is only the means that are in question.

Characters summarize their own existence in their appearance; a gross, fat man is clearly despicable and it is only appropriate that he should mouth right-wing cliche's about the degeneracy of long hair, drugs, sex, literature, pop music and, possibly, the Jesus freaks.

The very simple ideological distinctions between left and right wing imprisons individuals.

They exist simply to give shape to a clash between abstract forces that are never adequately iden­ tified. This stems partly from the film’s refusal to admit any aspect of social life that doesn’t bear directly on the investigation. There are occasional flash-backs of Lambrakis, to an affair he once had, but these are fragmentary and irritating.

In general the time-sequence is direct and un­ complicated. The film’s plot exists in a rapidlymoving present; the past is done away witn and the future awaits only as a long list of suspended liberties at the end of the film. This uncluttered simplicity gives strength and immediate direction to the intrigue, but once you know the answer, so to speak, the highly schematic development appears thin and unsatisfying. Yet Costa-Gavras has remarked, “ I try to condemn events by what they represent, in a sense to let events condemn themselves by what they are.”

Throughout Z nothing is left to chance, nothing is ambiguous. Politics is viewed in terms of moral absolutes: the nature of events accords exactly with their appearance; the exercise of violence, and resistance to it, constitute the central political relationship. The film makes great play with a conception of justice, but nothing is ever said or implied about legitimacy, about the roots and strength of a particular social and political order.

Politics becomes a grand jigsaw in which the pieces are hammered into place through acts of in­ dividual violence.

Thefollowingyear, in 1970, Costa-Gavras made The Confession, and in 1972 State of Siege. Each of these films repeats the same formula, the same simple strategy, in different cultures and settings.

Once you have disclosed the mechanics of how repression operates, all you can do is trick it out with a little local color. State of Siege is set in Uruguay and centers on a kidnapping carried out by the local urban guerillas, the Tupamaros. As with Z, the drama is presented in an apparently documentary style, although the attempt to dis­ guise parable as current affairs has become more direct.

So State of Siege establishes in painful and ob­ vious detail the ramifications of American in­ trigue and subversion in this small South American state. The foreign training courses are listed and even the names of those who took part in them. This is, after all, real drama.

Above: The Conformist: stylized movements that express an emotional flux, an opportunity for action that is never seized.

The involvement of American advisers with the local police is made clear; the gifts of cars, weapons and torture equipment. We are spared nothing, including a public demonstration of shock therapy’. The film’s whole interest lies in the technical aspects of treachery, in the connec­ tions between events whose pattern and logic is never questioned.

Costa-Gavras uses extended press conferences to convey background and thematic development, just as the interrogation of the American stresses the essential kindness and justice of the terrorists.

They are insistent, fair-minded and irresistible. As one of them asks the kidnapped American adviser Santore: “ You are a technician?” “ I am a technician.” “ In the police?” “ Yes.” “And a policeman’s duty is to preserve order?”

“Yes.”

This scene is cut to a shot of torture and then to a slogan about order and progress. We return to the youthful guerillas and Santore asks for a glass of whisky. “ Sorry,” they say, “here there’s just water.” As the interrogation continues, and the film draws reluctantly to a close, Santore starts to betray his real self. “We policemen,” he says, “all have the same vocation for order. So we don’t approve of change.” He emphasizes, “We don’t believe in real men. Just in equality.”

The same might be said of Costa-Gavras. And the point is not that he stylizes political protest in representative figures, but that he reduces com­ plex relations to easy parody. State of Siege plays insistently upon what we are presumed to know is the case in South America. Social observation that might add density and strength to these portraits is discarded; as is any insight into values or responses that cannot be easily stirred into a simple political equation. Costa-Gavras has found that he cannot just repeat the mechanics of Z, so he has simply insisted on the same points more loudly.

The impact and limitations of propaganda become apparent in the heavy didactic purpose of these films, in their apparent documentary realism and their instrumental view of politics.

This reduces politics to protest and repression; from conceptions of power and legitimacy to con­ ceptions of indiscriminate violence and expedien­ cy. For all their tightly-edited, rapid movement, these films are chaotic, loose and repetitive. And for all the focus on Montand, they betray little psychological suggestiveness, except the classic smile of weary resignation. Literally nothing approaches except death following the inquisition.

The films of Bertolucci don’t depend on the sorts of simplification that we find with CostaGavras. Although two of them are explicitly con­ cerned with fascism and all three of them with politics, they take up the world of politics in a quite different, even metaphoric sense. In each of his three films, The Spider’s Strategy, The Con­ formist and Last Tango in Paris, the central character is attempting to discover and assert his

Above: The Conformist: a dazzling rhetorical Him of brilliant inventions and studied effects.

own identity by exorcising a particular relationship from the past.

The young man in The Spider’s Strategy, Athos Magnani, returns to a small Italian town to find out just who his father was. The story is based on a fragment from Jorge Luis Borges’ Theme o f the Traitor and the Hero. I t’s about a revolutionary who is killed in mysterious circum­ stances and it’s not clear whether he died in defending or betraying the revolution. But an in­ vestigator decided, two generations later, that he was a traitor and Borges’ short story concludes with this sentence: “After a series of tenacious hesitations, he resolves to keep his discovery silent. He publishes a book dedicated to the hero’s glory; this, too, perhaps, was foreseen.”

What Bertolucci does is to make the in­ vestigator the son of the revolutionary and con­ centrate on the son’s discovery of himself by tak­ ing on and playing out the role of the father. Ber­ tolucci has not tried to convey the elusive sense of Borges, that human events are subject to a strange and even ironic control. Rather he has relied on a better-documented, and perhaps less interesting, psychological theory about fathers and sons.

Something of the same explicit interest emerges in The Conformist, which derives from Alberto Moravia’s novel. This is about a 34 year old man, Marcello Clerici, who, as a young teenager, suf­ fers a traumatic experience when he is sexually at­ tacked by the family chauffeur. For the rest of his life he desperately seeks security, even to the point of acting as a secret agent for the fascist government.

These two protagonists are both involved in politics, or rather drawn into a political system.

But Bertolucci doesn’t intend to show us what that system is and how it operates beyond what is necessary for the development of his character.

Much has been made of the theories of Wilhelm Reich in relation to these Films, and especially the notion of a latent homosexuality that Finds relief only in continued acts of violence. So the critics connect sexual repression with susceptibility to fascism. Joan Mellen says that Clerici in The Con­ formist, is “covering up conscious homosexual tendencies aroused by a movement pronouncedly oriented towards feats of male strength.”

The overall attempt to explain Bertolucci’s Films by recourse to a highly explicit theory of personality type and its relation to a political

system seems again to miss out on what’s genuine­ ly original in his Filmmaking. This has much more to do with a complex control of texture and color and lighting in order to convey subtle and elusive effects; to pattern and stylize ambiguity, menace and indecision in imagery like the last tango itself.

Of course fascism does appear in the Films but fascists hardly do at all. The fascist system rather affords Bertolucci a stage, a ready-made organization of essentially private feelings ex­ pressed in frozen public attitudes. And it is this background of repression that enables him to develop his characters’ search for identity or security.

This process becomes clear in The Spider’s Strategy. As the credits unroll, we are shown a series of animal paintings by Ligabue. They are highly colored, even exotic pictures of birds, snakes, tigers, gorillas. They are very formal sketches, brilliantly blocked out in sharp colors, yet fantastic, expressing the energy and power of these creatures in strangely distorted surfaces.

And across the sound-track plays fairground music. The pictures and the music suggest associations from the past that almost become concrete in the present — but they are gone and the Film has moved on.

This highly-stylized opening reflects the ways Bertolucci creates effects throughout the Film. His approach is to constantly raise suggestions, make associations that are momentary and elusive but steadily bind the viewer. The credits pass into the opening shots, a tiny and apparently deserted village. A train draws in and a young man gets off, together with a sailor. They are photographed against the dense green background -of sur­ rounding trees and contrasting sandstone buildings. Again, the line and color create a for­ mal and unreal setting, as though we are looking at the way a man might imagine his own past.

As the camera follows the young man through the town, other Figures appear. But they move as though they’re playing parts in a play; they have no past and no future. And this is the tension upon which the Film depends. The young man, Athos Magnani, has returned to the village where his father was murdered by fascists. He wants to dis­ cover the truth of his death and he will only Find out by playing his father’s role, as far as this is possible.

Continued on page 191

Cinema Papers, July-August — 145

THE REMOVALISTS Jim Murphy “ If roots were hamburgers, you could feed a bloody army” is the sort of one-liner which has made audiences cringe. Socalled Australian humor on the stage and screen has often been nothing more than locker room phrases tossed in for hopeful shock effect and emerging like poor vaudeville, which is bad enough, or hand-me-down Cockney comedy, which is in­ tolerable.

David Williamson’s ability to conjure with the heightened Aussie argot and use it to perfectly valid comic or dramatic effect is the mainstay of his own film adaptation of his play The Removalists. Without diminishing the excellent cast and good production values, it is Williamson’s dialogue which is the focal point of the film and makes one overlook the basic in­ appropriateness of the material for the medium.

That Williamson can make the above-quoted wisecrack (which is not much of a line, even by vaudeville standards) fit naturally into the flow of dialogue and get its required laugh without seeming awkward or embarrassing testifies to his strong grasp of character and his ear for the rhythm of Australian speech. It was evident in Stork and Petersen. It is more refined in The Removalists.

The film — or, rather, the play because it is nothing more than a confined two-set theater piece perfunctorily opened out for the cameras — does not fit snugly into any category. The dividing line between comedy and drama is hard to perceive for most of the time and blurs completely in the final half­ hour. It is too funny to be called a drama, but too desperately black to be remembered for just its humor.

Williamson uses six well-drawn characters and his skill as a writer sees to it that all interrelate throughout the play. Even when one is merely observing the others, he’s observing in a way that says something about him. There are few unproduc­ tive moments.

Williamson begins slowly and amusingly with two coppers manning a small sub-station in a crime-prone Sydney suburb.

Constable Ross (John Hargreaves) is fresh out of training college, non-too-bright and bristling with enthusiasm, even though he was sick the week they studied practical human psy­ chology. He is reporting expectantly for his first posting under Sergeant Simmonds (Peter Cummins), an amateur Bilko who manages to operate the station without doing anything con­ structive. It’s too small a unit, he tells his new subordinate, to handle the big cases, and the minor offences are not worth worrying about.

The most important document in the office is the TV Times; it supplies the program listings for the television set hidden un­ der the counter. Simmonds is proud that, in 23 years in the Force, he has never made an arrest, never drawn his gun and never left a bruise on a victim. It’s a nice touch that when we first see him he is strolling to work pounding a rolled newspaper in the palm of his hand with just a hint of aggression.

Ross is impressionable, and Simmonds wastes no time in making an impression on him. He imbues the novice with his cynical approach to police work (“Stuff the rule book up your arse; life’s got its own rules”) and gets an early chance to put it into effect when two young women come to the station to make a complaint.

Marilyn Cater (Jacki Weaver) has left her husband and she has been pushed by her pretentious, snobby North Shore sister, Kate (Kate Fitzpatrick) into seeking police intervention.

Not only has the lout beaten her — and she has the bruises to prove it to the goggle-eyed young constable — but he has refused to let her take the furniture out of their home.

Simmonds, having given Ross a subtle lesson in the niceties of perving on good-looking sheilas while pretending to be solicitous, assumes the guise of Good Samaritan. He calls a removalist friend to send one of his vans around to the Carters’ flat, and the police set off with the girls to supervise the moving of the furniture. So much for Act 1.

The second half — much the stronger — takes place in the flat where Kenny, the husband (Martin Harris) is minding his own business watching Homicide re-runs on TV. He vehemently objects to the intrusion of the police, but Sim­ monds knows how to deal with aggressive loudmouths, es­ pecially those who insult womanhood, even their wives. He has Kenny handcuffed to the room divider and cheerfully thumps him every time he says something out of order.

This proves unfortunate for Kenny, because he is one of those types whose talent for colorful abuse is uncontrollable.

Peter Cummins, Kate Fitzpatrick and Jacki Weaver in the film version of The Removalists.

Sergeant Simmonds (Peter Cummins) has Kenny (M artin Harris) handcuffed to the room divider and cheerfully thumps him every time he says something 'out of order’.

The more he’s hit, the more he’s inspired to further out­ pourings of invective. Like a moth circling closer and closer to the flame, Kenny invites his own destruction.

It is the build-up of violence by the policemen — watched with almost complete detachment by the two women and the driver of the removal van (Chris Haywood) — which is the crux of the play.

It isn’t so much sadism or anger as over-enthusiastic pursuit of a misplaced ideal. Simmonds, following his own peculiar logic for dealing with offenders, just loses his grip on the reins — in his eyes, the only mistake he has made in his whole police career.

It is Williamson’s message that toleration of a certain amount of violence is only a step away from total barbarity.

He makes his point incisively by exercising a light-hearted approach to the First manifestations of brutality. We laugh, we are guilty too, even though he forced our complicity.

As a sideline, he hands out some neat jibes at cowardice, hypocrisy, sexual frustration and the good old bureaucratic games of buckpassing and bludging on the job.

The acting is first-rate, with honors shared by Peter Cum­ mins and Martin Harris. It is not surprising that both were inCinema Papers, July-August — 147

REVIEWS

’volved in early stage productions of the play. At no point does Cummins let the character of the sergeant degenerate into caricature. He is a ruthless product of bigotry and hangups, perfectly illustrated by his bellow “self-control is the test of manhood” as he beats the living daylights out of his handcuff­ ed prisoner.

Martin Harris has the most testing role as Kenny, being called upon to switch at the end from ranting vituperation to pathetic docility. He handles it superbly — as sadly funny as anything you’ll see.

John Hargreaves does nicely as young Ross, conveying a gormlessness that stems from inexperience and uncertainty and not from congenital imbecility as could happen in a less perceptive approach, and Chris Haywood is a good con­ trasting type as the whingeing Pom removalist, forever bleating about “the $10,000 worth of equipment I've got tick­ ing away outside” .

The girls come off slightly less well, which may be inherent in the script. Jacki Weaver has little to do except look and act cute, which she does to perfection, while Kate Fitzpatrick’s role is a little overdrawn and she seems rather uneasy with it.

Producer-designer Margaret Fink has spent the $240,000 budget wisely. It’s a Film without extraneous matter, efficiently directed by Tom Jeffrey within the limitations imposed by the two interior locations and crisply edited by Anthony Buckley.

In terms of cinema, The Removalists has little to offer. But in making David Williamson’s admirable play available to the widest possible audience, it is an object splendidly achieved with a high degree of professionalism from all concerned.

THE REMOVALISTS. Directed by Tom Jeffrey. Distributed by M argaret Fink. Produced by Margaret Fink. Associate Producer, Richard Brennan. Screenplay by David Williamson. Photography, Graham Lind. Edited by Anthony Buckley. Production Designer, _ Margaret Fink. Music by Galapagos Duck: Music Directors, Nathan Waks, Horst Liepolt. Players, John Hargreaves (Constable Ross), Peter Cummins (Sergeant Simmonds), Kate Fitzpatrick (Kate Mason), Jacki Weaver (Marilyn Carter),. Martin Harris (Kenny Carter), Chris Haywood (Removalist). Eastmancolor. 93 min. Australia 1974.

Above: Hijack on a New York subway train in Gerald Greenberg’s The Taking of Pelham 123.

THE TAKING OF PELHAM 123 John C. MurrayIt is still something of a rarity these days to Find a Film as ef­ ficiently conceived and organized as The Taking of Pelham 123. From Peter Stone’s script, which pares away a good deal of the padding in John Codey’s novel, through casting decisions that show a perception of the current rolepossibilities of actors like Walter Matthau and Robert Shaw, to Joseph Sargent’s and Gerald Greenberg’s economical direc­ tion and editing, Pelham 123 never strays outside the limits of its ingenious-crime-by-ruthless-men conventions.

That it is a formula Film is hardly in doubt. The gang which hijacks one car of a New York subway train to gain a million­ ' dollar ransom for its passengers’ lives is composed of types we have met many times before. There is the cold mastermind Mr Blue (Robert Shaw), the nervous aide Mr Green (Martin Balsam) frightened by the violence but determined to see the job through, the near-psychotic enforcer we know will sooner or later defy his leader’s orders and put the scheme in jeopardy Mr Brown (Earl Hindman) and the unthinking but utterly dependable assistant, Mr Grey (Hector Elizondo) who, the rules dictate, will be the First to go when the^hooting starts.

Up at ground level, so to speak, we are in equally familiar company. The subway security chief Lieutenant Garber (Walter Matthau) is everything such a character in such a Film should be: unsentimental, tough-humored, and capable of matching his adversary step for step in cunning. His aplomb, and that of his right-hand man (Jerry Stiller), both pillars of stability as the crime takes its course, are set against the rawnerved frenzy of the train controller and his staff, watching the boards which indicate that rail traffic is piling up all over the system.

And so the conventions emerge: vacillating public officials and politicians, confused cops, terrified passengers, the wild race against time to get money to the subway before the next hostage is executed, and, classically, the identification of the one surviving criminal by a fate-decreed mischance.

In many respects Pelham 123 could hardly fail to capture and retain interest. Mr Blue’s plan is so ingenious and the situation so fertile (criminals locked below ground as the city above falls into confusion) that they almost defy mishandling.

But what is notable about Joseph Sargent’s treatment is its sureness and intelligence of touch. To takejust a few instances, one of the hostages is a deadbeat drunk (another formula item, by the way). Her failure to comprehend what is going on around her could have been played ponderously for laughs.

But she receives very little screen time. Her presence is es­ tablished early, and she is visually referred to on a couple of occasions as the story develops. The point that she is in the situation though not of it is made by one single shot. Lying fast asleep on a seat, she slides forward like a projectile when the runaway carriage hits a trip-lever and grinds to a sudden halt.

14 8

— Cinema Papers, July-August

Equally restrained is the handling of a nervous patrolman who finds himself caught between the hijacked car and a team of police snipers hiding in the recesses of the subway tunnel.

Wanting to play a part in the action but knowing he dare not shoot at the shadowy figures he can see in the car, he bunches his hand into a make-believe pistol and silently shoots Mr Grey. Worth noting too is the moment when one of the passengers in the careering car closes his eyes and intones a Zen meditation chant.

Seemingly small items like these are important to Pelham 123. To call them ‘touches’ might be to suggest they are only engaging indulgences on Sargent’s part, but given its nature the film cannot really afford to play around with characteriza­ tion other than that degree of it needed to give Lt Garber and Mr Blue a dimension.

The sense that there are people — human beings — involved in the crime and its effects has to be generated by these obser­ vations and others: the wavery-voiced tension of the two policemen exchanging small-talk as they wait to drive the ransom money from the bank to the subway against the clock, a police commander’s disappointment when he is ordered not to mount a death-or-glory charge down into the tunnel, the influenza-ridden mayor assessing the vote-winning potential in the situation, the prostitute among the hostages insulted at Mr Brown’s labelling her a $20 hooker.

But among all the achievements in the film, not least of which is the sharply timed and placed intercutting between the flurries of activity in the brightly-lit exteriors and interiors of the city and the grimly dark and silent tunnel, there are some small disappointments.

For one thing, we never gain any insight into the criminals’ reasons for having taken on such a dangerous scheme. Even at best we could not have learned very much about them, but Sar­ gent leaves the men almost wholly anonymous, to the extent that the small suggestion that Mr Green is seeking revenge for his unfair dismissal as a subway motorman remains uncon­ firmed.

The complaint might be offered too that the ending (different from the novel’s) is perhaps excessively anticipated throughout the film. The underscoring of Lt Garber’s sneezes heard over the intercom system rather gives the ironic finale away ahead of time. But if these are weaknesses, they are minor flaws in a film which is elsewhere so thoroughly and attractively under control.

THE TAKING OF PELHAM 123. Directed by Joseph Sargent.

Distributed by United Artists. Produced by Gabriel Katzaka, Edgar J. Scherick. Associate Producer, Stephen S. Kestern. Production Com­ pany, P alom ar P icture-Palladium ^ P roductions. D irector of Photography, Owen Rolsman. Edited'by Gerald Greenberg, Robert Lovett. Music by David Shire. Art Director, Gene Rudolph. Players, Walter Matthau (Lt Garber), Robert Shaw (Blue), Martin Balsam (Green), Hector Elizondo (Grey), Earl Hinchman (Brown), James Broderick (Denny Doyle), Dick O’Neill (Correli). 104 min. US 1974.

THE GODFATHER PART II Mark Randall “Everyone can relate to a story about a family."

— Fred Roos, co-producer of The Godfather Part Two.

Francis Ford Coppola’s sequel to his $200 million grossing The Godfather is an infinitely more seductive piece of film­ making than its predecessor.

It is beautifully executed. The cinematography and art direction are dazzling virtuoso examples of Hollywood’s for­ midable technical-creative arsenal working at peak capacity.

The production values of the film are to be marvelled at. The dollars are up on the screen with scenes of breathtakingly romanticized re-creation. It is a feast for the senses. An epic distraction, reducing complex and disturbing realities into readily digested hunks, not of the new Hollywood ‘realism’ (a la The French Connection), but of new Hollywood myth. What Sam Peckinpah has done for the Western, Coppola has done for the crime syndicate.

Part II pretends to be a lot more than the violent melodrama the original was, and with a budget of $13 million, Coppola has given full rein to his florid ‘classical’ directorial style. Soft focus photography, melancholy autumnal golds and browns (a dash of Vermeer through the drapes), historical minutiae from the props department, a cast of thousands, ex­ otic European and Latin American locations, and the clever use of sub-titles — the heady stuff of Coppola’s wide-screen myth-making.

Part II moves leisurely through the past and present history of the Corleone dynasty. Back to where it all began in the Old Country with vendetta violence and forced emigration to the States for the young Vito Corleone, up to Michael Corleone’s presence before a Senate committee hearing on ‘The Family’ and its nefarious activities.

The film’s scope, in terms of narrative, is flung wide, and in the telling it rarely falters, considering its episodic structure and length (three-and-a-half hours). We see the building of an empire and the personal tragedies bound up in its realization and maintenance. At the end of the film, Michael Corleone is a lone monster — having killed his brother, several rivals, and separated from his wife — and God knows what we are meant to feel for him. Pity?

A1 Pacino gives another well-controlled, low-key perfor­ mance as Michael. He suffers agonies with his big brown eyes — whether or not to kill poor brother Fredo — and we wish he’d just relax a bit and enjoy the good things of life, like murdering his opponents. But it’s hard not to like Pacino’s Don — Coppola knew this. If he looked like Sam Giancana we’d hate his guts.

Robert Duvall gives his expected stolid support, but the acting honors finally go to the Master of Method, Lee Strasberg. Strasberg’s dying Jewish overlord, Hyman Roth, is a great performance.

REVIEWS

What really keeps us inside the film, however, is Coppola’s style: that of the ready-made classic. Coppola feeds it to us like a narcotic. There is a feeling of time and place suspended, a baroque unreality about it all suggested by the lighting, the soft colors, the heavy emphasis on violins in the musical scoring, and the anachronistic dialogue (“What did Papa think deep in his heart?”), sometimes bordering on mock-biblical absurdity, like the worst of Hemingway.

The crisp edge of definition is missing, as if it were a dream, a memory, the Mafia holidaying in The Garden of the FinziContinis. We are held in this suspended lush state, while the mobsters go about their grisly business.

Coppola seems to be saying that the Corleones are just a family, but with a difference (what a difference!). They are a super-family trafficking in dark regions of sudden engulfing malevolence and infinite venality. We can know them as men, but we cannot touch them. They are twentieth century titans with something to hide. They can be killed (by each other), but not defeated. This is Coppola’s million dollar myth at work. A myth we can well do without.

And what about the real Mafia?

“There was no opposition from the Mafia during the filming. They loved the first film about themselves and were with us all the way for its sequel.’’ Fred Roos No doubt they were. Through The Godfather they’ve become celebrities. There’s your reality.

THE GODFATHER PART II. Directed by Francis Ford Coppola.

Produced by Francis Ford Coppola. Associate Producers, Gary Frederickson, Fred Roos. Production Company, Param ount.

Screenplay by Mario Puzo, Francis Ford Coppola. Director of Photography, Gordon Willis. Music by Nino Rota. Art Director, Dean Tavorlaris. Players, A1 Pacino, Robert Duvall, John Cazale, Diane Keaton, Robert De Niro, Lee Strasberg. US 1974.

Robert de Niro (right) as the young Vito Corleone in The Godfather Part II

ALICE DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE Virginia Duigan

Al Pacino as The Godfather in Francis Ford Coppola’s The Godfather Part II.

You can call it popular entertainment if you don’t want to take it seriously, but implicit in Coppola’s direction and scripting is that something significant is unfolding before us.

The measured pacing and sombre atmospherics demand that you take it all seriously, which is fine if you’re dealing with reality, but Coppola is out creating illusions, working on an operatic level twice-removed from life. The only thing you can take seriously is his dishonesty — the film is a brilliant cheat.

Francis Ford Coppola shows us that Mafia padrones and their hatchet men are human like us. Sure they kill people sometimes, but it’s just part of business. Rubbing someone out is their way of putting in a hard day at the office. They have families, domestic problems, career worries, sleepless nights . . . family life with the Corleones is open to us all on a reduc­

ed level of shared daily experiences, like sitting down to dinner or having a fight with your wife.

This ‘humanizing’ sleight of hand is cunningly used. Vito Corleone blows a rival Don’s head off and goes home to cuddle his baby son. Vito, back in Sicily to finish off a vendetta, slits an old man’s guts from navel to chops (admittedly the old man shot-gunned his mother) and is then seen with baby Michael waving goodbye to relatives. And so on and so on. That’s not to say these things don’t happen, but Coppola uses heavy­ handed juxtapositions to keep us caring for our ‘heroes’ and to dilute our revulsion at their brutality.

All these events are rendered with equal emphasis, too. All things are placed on one plane. Thus a murder is ultimately no more disturbing than a wife’s miscarriage.

Having made a tough-guy debut with Mean Streets, Martin Scorcese is obviously bent on proving he has a heart. His se­ cond feature, Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore, is an em­ barrassingly unabashed weepie, a kind of ill-conceived Paper Moon or John’s Wife, incorporating some of the grimmer aspects of an Ash Wednesday.

The film is built around the depressingly lacklustre exploits of Alice, played by Ellen Burstyn, who has made good use of her dramatic experiences in The Exorcist. Ms Burstyn seems to have decided, or perhaps the casting directors did it for her, that crises are her forte. She is confronted here by a series of unhappy traumas to which she responds by bursting, with somewhat depressing predictability, into tears. Her mother was doubtless one of those believers in the virtues of a good cry.

Not that one does not sympathize with Alice. Early in the film we experience a profound distaste for her domestic cir­ cumstances. At 35, married to a caricature, mother to an equally unsufferable male offshoot, Alice remains the kind of tough pioneer doormat who talks stoically about meaningful family relationships while her husband rants on about respect.

Within the first 10 minutes, however, he is obligingly written off in an automobile accident. Faced with this stroke of good fortune, Alice bursts into floods of tears before packing her son and all her worldly goods into the back of a station wagon and eriving off into the cruel daylight in search of a better life in Monterey. One wonders about the comfortable home she leaves behind; was it all being paid off on HP? Idle' speculation aside, it transpires that Alice, when young, was a singer of some pretention. In order to keep the wolf from the door she bravely casts around the small-town bars for work and finally lands a spot in an average-seedy es­ tablishment. She also picks up a guy anyone could have told her from a mile off was bad news.

The rest of this irksome film details Alice’s brutal comeup­ pance at the hands of this character, a desperate flit from the motel, and then — waitressing at an horrific greasy spoon in Tucson. Where, between crying into the steak and two veg, she catches the twinkling eye of bearded David, a local ranchowner mysteriously given to eating at this joint.

David, played jovially by Kris Kristofferson, is everything a nice girl like Alice could have wanted: waiting a decorous in­ terval before bedding her and chuckling devotedly at her childhood anecdotes. But he queers his pitch with Alice, while cementing himself in the audience’s affections, by losing his temper with young Tommy and dealing him a mild swipe across the backside.

Tommy proceeds to take up with his precocious 12 year old girlfriend, who introduces him to shoplifting and plonk, thus indicating to his foolish parent just how much in need of the providential kick in the pants he was. All, however, is not lost, this being the kind of just-deserts film it is, and honor is Cinema Papers, July-August — 149

REVIEWS

The film is not only drab but also curiously scruffy, as though shot on sub-standard film stock and edited in a hurry.

If realism was the intention, again it is thoroughly dispersed in the sillinesses of the story. There are moments, some richly comic scenes, some times when one is willingly entertained, even moved, but they occur rarely.

They have the effect of uncomfortably jolting one’s otherwise negative response; they do, however, prevent one from writing off the film completely. It is possible to gain some semblance of understanding of Alice and her situation, but the honesty which could have saved the film is thrown out in favor of fairly glib cameos and an artificial ending.

Mean Streets suggested that Scorcese had the beginnings of an interesting talent. One can only hope that Alice is a tem­ porary aberration, a brief sortie into the mawkish meadows of matinee-land.

ALICE DOESN’T LIVE HERE ANYMORE. Directed by Martin Scorcese. Executive Producer, Larry Cohen. Produced by David Susskind, Audrey Mass. Associate Producer, Sandra Weintraub.

Production Company, Warner Bros. Screenplay by Robert Getchell.

Director of Photography, Kent L. Wake'ford. Edited by Marcia Lucas.

Production Designer, Toby Carr Rafelson. Players, Ellen Burstyn, Kris Kristofferson, Billy Green Bush, Diane Ladd, Lelia Goldini, Lane Bradbury, Vic Tayback, Jodie Foster. I ll min. US 1974.

NADA Lindsay Amos

Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore — Alice, waitressing in Tucson, cracks under the pressure of her own misfortunes.

been a strong point in the film’s favor; the fact that one holds it against the film testifies to an overall lack of style which generates an absence of sympathy for the characters.

Alice and Tommy’s relationship, which could have been astringent and engaging, comes across as derivative and irritating, partly because Tommy is one of those permanently bored, petty tyrants, partly because Alice is so resolutely the all-American mother, which nowadays apparently means smart-arsing the kid one minute and grovelling the next. And partly, and this applies to the film in general, because their in­ teraction is treated with a superficial gloss which effectively stands in the way of any real involvement.

At the outset, it should be noted that the version of Nada screened at the Sydney Film Festival and, presumably, the one which will go on general release eventually is 26 minutes shorter than the British print. Even though a reliable source tells me that the cutting was supervised by Chabrol for the American market, twenty per cent of a film is an awful lot, and here it results in some irritating holes in the narrative — at least one of which seems to be quite important.

This said, Nada as it stands is a singularly disturbing film, especially for those who, like myself, have succumbed to the discreet charm of Claude Chabrol. And despite the director’s characteristically off-hand description of it as a ‘Punch and Judy show with bullets’, Nada is an interesting contrast.to another film also screened at the festival, The Orders, which deals with a similar subject — the sudden eruption of police state procedures in a putative democracy — but the dramatiz­ ed documentary style of the latter seems very dull for all its good intentions next to Chabrol’s totally fictional treatment.

In Nada, a motley group of anarchists known as Nada (Spanish for ‘nothing’), successfully kidnap the US Am­ bassador to France and hole up in a remote farmhouse lent to one of the group. The operation begins smoothly enough, but a

Ellen Burstyn in the Academy Award winning role of Alice from Martin Scorsese’s Alice Doesn’t Live Here Anymore.

satisfied at the caff next day in an improbably public display of sentiment.

It is always tempting for a reviewer to engage in easy mockery at the expense of a bad film, but some films simply do not deserve to be taken seriously. Whether or not Martin Scorcese thought he was making a different kind of film — dealing a well-intentioned blow for Women’s Lib, perhaps? — it remains that he has produced what used to be called unkind­ ly a women’s flick. Put Elizabeth Taylor in the leading role, and any similarity would have to be intentional. Certainly Ellen Burstyn does a solid, quivering upper-lip job — and is dealt an Academy Award for her pains — but she has an uphill fight to spark much interest in Alice’s soggy saga.

There is a drab quality about the film that appears to have been deliberately accented in the settings, real as they are; the ' endless motel rooms and bars, the harsh lighting and discor­ dant colors. Those gaping Arizona streets with their cheap, depressing buildings remind one disconcertingly of being on the skids in Australia. All this worthy authenticity should have

150 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Above: Tom Laughlin as Billy Jack in The Trial of Billy Jack. An experiment in commercial political cinema.

REVIEWS

other like a couple of prizefighters in the first round. The farmhouse siege begins as Bonnie and Clyde picaresque and becomes a cynically engineered massacre.

Goemond is quite ready to sacrifice the Ambassador in order to swing public opinion against the terrorists — though ' the tactics used to accomplish this seems like a classic case of overkill (in its most literal sense) and, in fact, he becomes snared in his own trap. The suspended Goemond, in a futile stand to save his own political skin might be smart enough to lure the surviving Diaz back to his death, but Diaz is even smarter; he knows how to make it a mutual arrangement.

This final sequence is very satisfying dramatically, and could be the product of any one of Chabrol’s American men­ tors. To somebody who has tasted the power which goes with Goemond’s position, Chabrol implies, the next step from political suicide, to somebody as unstable as Goemond, could well be the r<*al thing.

NADA. Directed by Claude Chabrol. Produced by Andre Genoves, Claude Chabrol. Production Company, Les Films la Boetie (Paris), Italian International (Rome). Screenplay by Jean-Patrick Manchette.

Director of Photography, Jean Rabier. Edited by Jacques Gaillard.

Music by Pierre Jansen. Players, Fabio Testi (Buenaventura Diaz), Mariangela Melato (Veronique Cash), Maurice Garre! (Epaulard), Michel Duchaussoy (Treuffais), Michel Aumont (Goemond), Didier Kaminka (Meyer), Lon Castel (D’Arey), Andre Fakon (The Minister), Lyle Joyce (Ambassador). Eastmancolor. 108 min. France 1974.

THE TRIAL OF BILLY JACK Freya Mathews

Nada: a Punch and Judy show with bullets.

policeman and an American agent are killed as the gang make their getaway. The escape is filmed by a government security agent strategically situated across the street and the Minister for the Interior (Andre Falcon) seizes upon the opportunity for a stage-managed show of strength.

The bulk of the film concentrates on the interrelationships of the Nada gang, while simultaneously underlining ‘similarities in the tactics of the authorities and the terrorists in ,achieving their respective political aims.

Some years ago, Chabrol almost grudgingly admitted in an interview that he ‘supposed he must be a leftist’ and even today his equivocation is reflected in the political stance of Nada.

Nobody in the film gets off lightly. Certainly the microcosmic police state which is defined by the Nada gang’s whereabouts is a measure of Chabrol’s cynicism. The zealous Police Com­ missioner Goemond (played with unctuous relish by Michel Aumont), after being placed in charge of the case by the bland Interior Minister, can hardly wait to match the ruthlessness of the terrorists. The itinerant Ambassador can be relied on to keep only one regular appointment—at an exclusive brothel—which is where the kidnapping takes place. The security agency responsible for the filming of the getaway is currently out of favor with the Ministry, with its chief in jail.

Even so this obvious disenchantment with the forces of law and order and almost gleeful depiction of their mendacity and peccadilloes alike is countered by a similar treatment of the anarchist group. The ostensible leader, Diaz (Fabio Testi), who is everybody’s idea of a fiery Spanish revolutionary, com­ plete with broad-brimmed black hat, is finally reduced to blurting out his political manifesto to a disinterested pair in the car he hijacks at a gas station. Treuffais (Michel Duchaussoy), the only intellectual in the gang, has second thoughts, drops out prior to the kidnap itself and is later instrumental (albeit unwittingly) in the subsequent massacre of the others. Veroni­ que Cash (Mariangela Melato) has no apparent political

motivation at all, preferring a casual affair with the ageing, former communist militant Epaulard (Maurice Garrel). “ I don’t care if I’m politically dumb!” shouts the alcoholic D’Arey (Lou Castel) at one point, which could sum up the at­ titude of the entire Nada gang — until the realization that the gang is not so much interested in social change as in a grand gesture where the right of the individual to choose his own death is of paramount importance.

The filming of the escape during the kidnap sequence and rapid identification of the participants defuses a traditionally stock situation — the painstaking tracking down of the kid­ nappers. The assumption is that Chabrol is more interested in the inevitable confrontation between two equally ruthless fac­ tions. In other words the central section of the film, the bloody ‘shoot ’em up’ scene around the farmhouse, looks suspiciously as if it was what attracted him to the material in the first place.

The quick discovery of the gang’s hide-out enables this un­ deniably brilliantly staged set-piece to become the focal point of the film.

However a synopsis of Nada clearly shows that much of the behind the scenes, interdepartmental give-and-take which takes place in the longer version could shift the emphasis of it in the terrorists’ favor. For example, the head of the security agency which did the filming is apparently calmly released from jail in return for the all-important film, which here pops up inexplicably in the form of nice, clear blow-ups.

What is clear in Nada, is that Chabrol is not only good at showing genteel murder among small-town bourgeoisie. The kidnapping itself embraces several shifts in mood, from Epaulard gently knocking out the ladies in the brothel (including the indignant madam, who’s paying police protec­ tion) to the botched-up escape where an agent is shot and D’Arey kills a cop with a catapult.

Later when Goemond and the Minister meet to discuss strategy they peer around a large table lamp, sizing up each

Here we have ostentatiously committed, polemical cinema.

Nothing subtle; but then, it’s not really subtle to be subtle about things like My Lai, Indian victimization, child abuse, and the various other ultra-emotive issues that the Billy Jack films address. The message is wisely dished up with lashings of melodrama — you could even call it home-made myth, the myth of Billy Jack.

But what is the message? In considering this, it would be naive not to notice that Tom Laughlin and Dolores Taylor, the husband-and-wife team who, between them, wrote, directed, starred in, edited, produced and finally distributed the films, appear to be the most analytical capitalists in the film business, having reformulated and revamped the old techni­ ques of film distribution and exhibition to dazzling effect, The first Langhlin film, Billy Jack has, since its re-release on revis­ ed Laughlin-imposed terms, grossed SUS31 million, while The Trial of Billy Jack has so far grossed S13 million.

The effectiveness of the Laughlin marketing techniques is indicated by the fact that when Billy Jack was given an initial run by Warners under conventional conditions, it was a virtual write-off.

It would be hard to reconcile this capitalistic facility of the filmmakers with any claim of theirs to be making a radical statement. But they make no such claim anyway.

The films, for all their urgency, are spelling only a relatively tame liberal message; their commitment is to democracy — but true democracy, as preached by the Founding Fathers. The outrage is directed only at the abuses of democracy tolerated under the present American system; it is not directed at the system itself.

Even so, the populism of the films, and the acumen with which Laughlin markets them, cannot help spawning some suspicions about his motivation, (and apparently it is his motivation; credits notwithstanding, she seems to be motivated by him*). Either he is an awesomely hardnosed and artful exploiter of the liberal conscience and consciousness of his audiences, or he is a genuine though remarkably hard­ headed liberal, prepared to exploit — and even improve — the available Hollywood system, in order to secure optimal dis­ semination of his message.

Perhaps ideally the question of the director’s motives should not influence one’s judgment of a film. One could adopt a kind of Hegelian optimism in this respect — the Message has a devious autonomy, and finds expression for itself even through media which were not intended for it.

But taking this line we would soon be strangled in all kinds of conceptual tangles about the implications of judging a film.

Can a film qualify as a ‘committed’ film if the director is known to be a hypocrite? In other words, can ‘commitment’ be simulated — for the sake, presumably, of adding an extra dimension of frisson to the entertainment?

Can aesthetic judgment be indifferent to moral content? For instance, could a film with an explicit fascist theme qualify as a great film? And so on.

With these doubts and hesitations, I would venture to say that, for films in the glossy Hollywood tradition, Billy Jack and (particularly) The Trial of Billy Jack are impressively out­ spoken and ambitious, and that they have in effect defined a new genre — of popular liberal films. .There have been various precedents for this genre, e.g.

Strawberry Statement, Parallax View, but these have never succeeded. They have never achieved the appearance of _____________ •________________ Continued on page 154 *So the article on Billy Jack in Rolling Stone, July 3, 1975, implies.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 151

:iTf:;}/'-

Picnic at Hanging Rock

Top left: Edith runs panic-stricken down the slopes of Hanging Rock. The other three girls remain behind.

Top right: director Peter Weir with Rachel Roberts on the set of Picnic at Hanging Rock.

Center left: Sara, Dianne and Sergeant Bumpher. Sara is questioned about the dis­ appearance of the girls.

Center right: Rachel Roberts as the head­ mistress, Mrs Appleyard.

Bottom left: From L to R, Edith, Jane, Irma and Miranda leaving the picnic to walk to the base of the Rock.

Director ......................................... Peter Weir Executive Producer..................................... PatLovell Producers.................................................... JimMcElroy, Hal McElroy Executive Producer for South A ustralia.....................................JohnGraves Screenplay ..................................... Cliff Green 1st Assistant Director..............Mark Egerton Director of Photography...........Russell Boyd Art Director............................. David Copping E d ito r.........................................................MaxLemon Music ...................................... Bruce Smeaton Costume Design ......................Judy Dorsman Cast: Rachael Roberts (Mrs Appleyard); Dominic Guard (Michael Fitzhubert); Vivien Gray (Greta McGraw); Helen Morse (Di De Portiers); Kirsty Child, Anne Lambert, Karen Robson, Jane Vallis, Christine Schuler, Margaret Nelson, Ingrid Mason, Jenny Lovell, Janet Murray, Bridgitte Phillips, Jacki Weaver, A. Llewellyn Jones.

Story: The screenplay of Picnic at Hanging Rock, written by Cliff Green, is based on Joan Lindsay’s best-selling Australian thriller. It tells the story of a group of girls who, with a teacher, set out from an exclusive boarding school to picnic at the Victorian beauty spot, Hanging Rock, on St Valentine’s Day, 1900.

Some of the girls never return. Their dis­ appearance, never fully explained,’continually disturbs a number of exquisitely ordered lives.

Woven in with the mystery and drama, in­ tricate peculiarities develop within the characters — the girls at the school, the strange headmistress, other teachers and staff, the visiting English youth who could be the prime suspect.

Director ..................... Brian Trenchard Smith D istributor.................... ! .......................... BEF Production C om pany.................. A Golden Harvest-Movie Company Co-Production Executive Producers . . . . . . Raymond Chow, John Hasem Producers................................David Hannay, Andre Morgan Production Manager David Hannay Production Co-ordinator ............ Pom Oliver Assistant D irector....................Hal McElroy Script ......................

Brian TrenchardSmith Director of Photography......... Russell Boyd Editors ................Alan Lake, Ron Williams Music ........................................ Noel Quinlan Cast: Jimmy Wang Yu, Hugh Keys-Byrne, Ros Spiers, Rebecca Gilling, Frank Thring, George Lazenby.

Story: A Hong Kong cop (Jimmy Wang Yu) corhes to Australia to extradite a prisoner. “ I wrote the final draft of the film to function on two levels. On the surface it’s knock-down, drag out, non-stop action picture aimed at the widest possible audience; but underneath we tried for a rich vein of humor in which we parody the conventions of the thick-ear thriller” .

— Brian Trenchard Smith.

The Man from Hong Kong

Top: Jimmy Wang Yu flying his kite over Sydney Harbour; Center right: Ros Spiers flies her kite over the Police Academy parade ground in Hong Kong.

Bottom left: George Lazenby and Jimmy Wang Yu come to blows at a lavish garden party. | Bottom right: a car crashes through a house — opeTof the many extraordinary stunts in The Man From Hong Kong. -M

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Cinema Papers, July-August — 153

REVIEWS Continued from page 151 authentic commitment that makes the Billy Jack films so effective.

The Billy Jack saga concerns a half-breed Indian (played by Tom Laughlin) — Kung Fu ace, war hero. Sickened by his Vietnam experiences and the moral climate at home, he has retreated to an Indian reservation, where he acts as protector of the Indians and thorn in the flesh of the local bigots, while he works on his spiritual improvement under the tutorship of a cliff-dwelling Indian sage on the reservation.

Close to the reservation, Jean (Dolores Taylor) runs what she calls a Freedom School, where children who are persecuted, abused or otherwise disturbed can come to practise self-expression in some creative or constructive form. The presence of this ‘hippy’ school on their outskirts is also an irri­ tant to the local townsfolk, who tirelessly concoct new ways of harassing the children, thereby keeping Billy Jack, defender of the oppressed, constantly on his toes.

Billy Jack and Jean, both besieged outsiders, are drawn together and fall indistinctly in love. Their relationship is en­ tirely understated, but potent — his broody, magnetic darkness and thoughtful violence, her fair and blue-eyed clarity, and between them a real electric attraction, unspoken, not exposed in any sex displays, but generating a powerful presence of sex in any case. This mysterious, invisible relationship creates a force field from which the films derive much of their impact.

From the rape of Jean by the son of the town’s reactionary political boss in Billy Jack to the campus massacre and numerous actual political references in The Trial of Billy Jack, Laughlin proceeds from a perspective oriented largely to per­ sonal experience to a more overtly political perspective.

Laughlin has announced* that we can expect further progress in this direction in subsequent Billy Jack films.

The critical charge that has been consistently levelled against The Trial of Billy Jack is that it cannot support the weight of all the issues to which it makes reference. But this charge ignores the film’s attempt to provide a context — in the shape of the Freedom School, which is a kind of incarnation of the dissident, liberal, pacifist consciousness of the American campus of the late sixties — which justifies these references.

For the roots of this consciousness, the roots of the phenomenon of campus revolt, are in reality ramified widely and deeply into the foundations of American society. Thus any portrayal of campus revolt will entail — or at least accom­ modate — reference to a wide, range of American issues. The unity beneath this tangle of reference is that they art American issues —■they are all inextricable components of a particular national outlook in a particular era. The breadth of the spectrum of issues which the Billy Jack films try to encompass is thus not gratuitous. But it is ambitious.

Finally, Billy Jack himself is best seen as a superhero of the Left, a kind of Liberal Avenger, whose exploits are as ex­ aggerated as those in a comic strip, and as predictable in their outcome. And his audiences seem to react to him in just this manner, cheering him on, relishing his victories in advance, hissing the baddies and celebrating the retribution inventively accorded to them, one by one, by Billy Jack. ' The trouble with the Billy Jack films, however, is that they are what you might call bio-degradable — they deterioriate rapidly upon being exposed to, or stored in, grey matter. My own experience was of emerging from the cinema tingling with exclamation marks, only to awake next morning to find it all turned pretty much to mush in memory.

The indisputable and enduring value of the films, however, is as experiments in, and precedents for, a commercial political cinema.

THE TRIAL OF BILLY JACK. Directed by Frank Laughlin. Produc­ ed by Joe Cramer. Associate producers, Beverley Walker, Robert Schultz. Production Manager, William Beaudine Jr. Screenplay by Frank and Teresa Christina. Director of Photography, Jack A. Marta.

Edited by Tom Rolf, Michael Economou, George Grenville, Michael Karr, Ju ’es Nayfack. Music by Elmer Bernstein. Costumes by Moss Mabry. Set Decoration by George Tuers 2nd. Special Effects by Milt Rice. Players, Tom Laughlin (Billy Jack), Dolores Taylor (Jean Roberts), Teresa Laughlin (Carol), William Welman Jr (National Guardsman), Russell Lane (Student Leader), Michelle Wilson, Lyn Baker, Victoria Izay (Doctor), Riley Hill (Posner), Bong Soo Han, Gus Grey Mountain (Blue Elk), Patsy Littlejohn (Sachen Little Feather).

Technicolor. US.

SUNDAY TOO FAR AW AY Jack Clancy It is tempting to acclaim Sunday Too Far Away for merely comparative reasons, since it has clear title to the best Australian film to emerge from the great revival. To do so would be to underrate the achievement; this is a film which deserves praise at the international level, if not perhaps at the highest level.

Many of our feature films so far — the Alvins, the Bazzas, Petersen — have been unpleasantly contemptuous of their audiences. Even when commercial success has come, as with *Ro!ling Stone, July 3, 1975.

154 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Above: Striking shearers brawl with the scabs in Ken Hannam’s outback drama Sunday Too Far Away.

Alvin Purple and The Adventures of Barry McKenzie, there have been factors, like the novelty of the Australian film, the publicity value of some of the stars, the shock of daring R cer­ tificate scenes in an Australian context, to account for the success. An interpretation of the fate of the sequels seems to confirm this.

Others have been perhaps insufficiently aware of their audience. The True Story of Eskimo Nell created a fascinating sub-text on mateship and Australian sexuality without a main structure strong enough to support it or firm enough to drag the customers in.

And the otherwise admirable Between Wars, in its muted tone and strict avoidance of anything like melodrama, in its very evenness and thoughtfulness, took a terrible risk with Australian audiences and missed out on commercial success because those audiences weren’t up to it.

Praise or blame on this score is hardly responsible, let alone appropriate. In the still precarious climate for Australian films, those risky decisions by producers, directors and backers are made pretty much in the dark and failure of nerve in either direction is understandable until audiences, and film­ makers, have learnt a great deal more. (All of which, to my mind, makes the vituperative outburst by National Times critic McGuiriess against ‘public money’ being squandered on.

Eskimo Nell destructively short-sighted.)

Sunday Too Far Away is an episodic, almost anecdotal study of the life of Australian shearers in 1955. It is virtually plotless and though it starts with a car crash and ends with a pub brawl, there are not all that many memorable incidents.

Yet it keeps the audience constantly alive; they laugh happily or uproariously, they are touched, they are moved, they are enlightened and made to understand and feel sympathy.

All of this emerges from a patently felt and demonstrable honesty of approach, apparent in the unpretentious, yet effec­ tively direct, visual style, the individual and ensemble acting which rarely falters and marks Ken Hannam as a fine ‘actor’s director’ gnd finally in what can only be called a sense of ‘touch’.

The center of the film is Jack Thompson’s Foley, the former ‘gun’ shearer returning to the game to make a nest-egg big enough to give shearing away for good. Around him are a predictable enough assortment — the aged alcoholic, the learner, a couple of veterans with no ambitions and no il­ lusions, the young outsider who reads books and writes letters home and Arthur Black, the new competitor for Foley’s title.

The competition between Foley and Black Arthur is the only constant thread of action in the film’s structure; and it must be said that Arthur’s disappearance from the scene before the strike with which the film concludes is a disappointment and a weakness in the script, especially since the beautifully cool reserve of Peter Cummins’ playing of Arthur has led us to want more of the character.

Incidents are handled quietly and surely, relying on ‘touch’, a sense of rightness in script and acting. The language is naturalistically effective, yet fresh — with the prize going to

Foley’s classic one-liner. As the ‘cocky’ frets up and down the shed worrying about his stud rams surviving the shearing in­ tact, he starts to drive the men mad. “Tell him,” says Foley, “if he doesn’t stop racing round here like a chook with its head cut off, he’ll be ankle-deep in pedigreed balls.”

The succession of incidents has its touches of Lawson-like grotesqueness (the burial arrangements via Holden utility for a dead shearer) of rough and tumble (as Foley has to get rid of the mountainous and poisonously bad cook) and of beautifully effective understatement.

There is a marvellous moment as the ‘cocky’s’ daughter, having manoeuvred her way in to the shed to watch the shearing, says thank you as she leaves. The men, standing round the tea-table at the other end of the shed, give her the barest, or no, acknowledgement; she is a woman and like anything extraneous to the job in hand, she is an irrelevance.

For students of sexuality and/or sexism in Australian films it is a choice moment.

The same daughter is involved in the film’s weakest and most jarring scene, a completely unmotivated sequence where Foley, telling her about his early life, finally breaks down into sobs. It is not the Foley we know from the rest of the film and the scene proceeds from, and leads to, nowhere.

I would not, as some people have, level the same criticism at the conclusion. The ‘open-ended’ strike, the fight between strikers and scabs, the almost freeze-frame concluding shot and even the final information given to us in titles seem to me to fit appropriately enough to the pattern and texture of the film as a whole.

And this pattern, and Hannam’s sureness in controlling it, is the essence of the film’s strength. With the aid of John Dingwall’s script, Geoff Burton’s cinematography and an almost flawless group of performances, he achieves the very difficult task of keeping us interested and involved while never identifying totally with the men or the ethos.

Ultimately, beyond the mateship and the humor, the loneliness of these men is their own; the film allows us to glimpse but never penetrate, to sympathize but never finally to come too close. In this it is utterly true to its subject. Old Garth the alcoholic calculates that he has spent three years in 25 of His married life at home; the film’s title comes from the shearer’s wife’s lament, “ Friday too tired, Saturday too drunk, Sunday too far away” .

Something real and true has been caught here and it has been presented with honesty and insight.

SUNDAY TOO FAR AWAY. Directed by Ken Hannam. Produced by Gil Brealey, Matt Carroll. Production Company, South Australian Film Corporation. Screenplay by John Dingwall. Director of Photography, Geoff Burton. Edited by Rod Adamson. Music by Patrick Flynn. Players, Jack Thompson (Foley), Reg Lye (Old Garth), Max Cullen (Tim King), Robert Bruning (Tom West), John Ewart (Ugly), Sean Scully (Beresford), Jerry Thomas (Basher), Graeme Smith (Jim the Learner), Gregory Apse (Frankie). Eastmancolor. 94 min. Australia 1975.

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REVIEWS

SHADOWMAN John O’Hara Franju has described his films generally as examples of ‘cinéma fantastique'. By this he means three things: “Le cinema fantastique, properly speaking; le cinema de l’insolite', and le cinéma de l'angoisse. The fantastique lies in the form; the insolite, in the atmosphere; the anguish in the uncertainty, the unknown,” • Clearly Franju is attracted by the figure of Shadowman; his mysterious origin, his ability to take on a malevolent role and play with it, the tension between the apparent naivety of his ac­ tions and their murderous consequences. So Franju remarks that the film should be approached “rather like those carnival sideshows which require you to rediscover your innocence.”

This conceotion of a moral fable disguised as comic melodrama might have sprung from the mines of Jean-Louis Barrault in Les Enfants du Paradis . But the figure of Shadowman engages other references as well, especially the comic-strip heroes of the fifties: Batman, the Phantom, the Shadow. Their success doesn’t depend upon any sense of mysterious powers or problematic identity (we all know that Superman is Clark Kent) that might cause us to question ourselves, our sense of innocence or reality. The adventures of these characters depend upon a very clear distinction between reality and fantasy. And the opening shots of Shadowman rein­ force this distinction for the audience.

A scripted introduction tells us about the order of Knights Templar whose last Grand Master was burned at the stake on March 11, 1314. The order was reputed to have hidden fabulous treasure, and Shadowman is anxious to pry such an­ cient secrets from the grasp of an old historian, Maxime de "Borrego. The main action of the film concerns the relative success and repeated failure of different strategies to track down the treasure.

Franju relies upon recreating the surface appearance of the old serials with their fades, wipes, cross-cutting for suspense and flashbacks. Actions are deliberately stylized so the characters appear like puppets, springing about in a grotesque parody of comic-strip heroics.

Dialogue, too, follows closely the cliché versions of thousands of indifferent detective films. The butler, Albert, says to detective Sorbier in passing “ If you only knew . . .”

“Ah,” breaks in the alert cop, “then there is something to know.” Later he muses that “the butler lied to me, and I fell hook, line and sinker for it.” There are the usual small accom­ paniments: “You won’t regret it, I’m sure of that” , or “ I hope you’re right for your sake, Doctor.”

The problem with fidelity to the basic formula is that it doesn’t allow much imaginative scope or any unexpected com­ plexity. Much of the humor derives from recognition of the situations drawn from a deliberately absurd thriller. So we meet the historian seated at his desk, engaged in a trivial con­ versation with Albert. He explains what is quite obvious — that he is opening his mail.

Albert asks for time off to see the dentist. This scene is cut with shots of a concealed passage opening from the bookcase; stone steps wind down into an underground chamber, the scene of fantastic rituals. What interests Franju is the mechanism: the sliding door, the revolving panel and the air of apparent seriousness with which the historian clasps his graven idol and enters thè sanctuary.

This repeated combination of trivial encounters, vaguely menacing threats and a fascination with the techniques and in­ struments of sorcery and murder make up a good deal of the film’s appeal. But they issue in farce rather than any sense of mysterious unease.

Franju commented upon one scene in which a car drives into an empty courtyard and stops. “The simple fact,” he said, “of holding on the empty courtyard for five seconds made the spectator think: ‘Well, if he’s so insistent about it, he must have a reason’. What reason? There’s the uncertainty, the un­ known. And just then the car comes into frame. And since the car was a veritable apparition, it boded something. It was bringing a message; and since the scene took place at the morgue, it must be a messenger of death. But on another level, of course, it boded nothing since there was no message what­ soever.”

It seems to me the film doesn’t generate this sort of anxiety because of the satirical attempt throughout. Pauses simply appear as the exaggeration essential to cateh the spirit of such desperate teenage thrillers. But repeated exaggeration itself tends to become wearying, and there is curiously static quality about the film that derives from several sources.

The constant fades and dissolves break down tension; the storyline is-so thin and the dialogue so insistently cliché that there is little suspense in terms of the unexpected. Franju seems to have concerned himself mainly with the ingenuity re­ quired in setting up situations rather than resolving them in any necessary sequence.

When, for example, the murdered historian’s nephew Paul and his companion Seraphin are trapped in a museum by human robots, there is a long tracking shot of the slow advance

Above: Shadowman.

of these staring, clacking figures, waddling rather like geese.

Just as they are about to stab the two shrinking victims, one of them hits on the idea of wrapping a red cloth around his arm.

This apparently acts as a signal to the robots and they turn away. But the audience had no clue beforehand that such a simple measure would deter these programmed murderers.

Again there is a sequence aboard a train in which Shadowman scrambles along the roof, enters a compartment through the window, murders the occupant and steals what he wants. The action is surprisingly slow, perhaps because it’s made to appear just too easy. The idea of this novel burglary and how it might be carried out seems to have fascinated the director and he concentrates upon the small suction pads that enable Shadowman to clamber about the outside of the train.

Too often, the studied execution of novel ideas slows the pace of the film. It’s almost as though it is made up of a succession of cartoons.

Characters exist only in their appearance, like Dick Tracy.

The detective is a gross, lumbering figure who makes the most elementary miscalculations and scandalously neglects security arrangements. So too the police appear as inept, blundering figures throughout.

Shadowman moves with sweeping gestures in his blood-red hood, cape and gloves. He is less a character than a figure around which Franju organizes his comedy. So Shadowman sits like an executive in his underground cave, watching color television and browsing through office files. Or he guides his dummies through remote control radio gadgetry, or knifes his victims with a quick flick of the wrist. He is not an elusive figure but a vague one, endlessly plotting strategies whpse out­ come leaves the drama more or less where it was at the begin­ ning.

So at the end, he steals away and his escape leaves the way clear for a successor to Shadowman. His accomplice throughout is a striking-looking woman, played by Gayle Hunnicut, who appears as a sort of super-secretary, cool, ef­ ficient, capable of murder on the side, and quite properly, hav­ ing no sexual relationship with Shadowman. You wouldn’t want to risk the jeers of the jellybean gallery.

Above: Georges Franju’s Shadowman, a moral fable disguised as comic melodrama.

Shadowman is a film of fascinating surfaces and novel effects. It recreates so exactly the fantastic adventures of the master criminal that it’s difficult to tell where the satire begins and the literal copy ends. It’s enjoyable enough, and sometimes very funny but it doesn’t create the kinds of resonance Franju clearly expected.

SHADOWMAN (LES NUITS ROUGES). Directed by Georges Fran­ ju. Distribution Company, Filmways Australia Distributors Pty Ltd. Produced by Raymond Froment. Production Company, Terra Film (Paris)-S.O.A.T. (Milan). Screenplay by Jacques Champreux. Director of Photography, Guido Renzo Bertoni. Music by Georges Franju, Hec­ tor Berlioz. Players, Gayle Hunnicut (The Woman), Gert Froebe (Commissioner Sorbier), Josephine Chaplin (Martine), Jacques Champreux (The Man), Ugo Pagliai (Paul), Patrick Prejean (Seraphin), Clement Hatari (Dr Dutreuil). Eastmancolor. 90 min.

France-Italy 1974.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 155

LOCKED TOGETHER IN*FEAR RULED BY THE AWESOME POWER OF SISTER GERAUDINE Directed by DAMIANO DAMIANI Music by ENNIO MCRRICONE

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REVIEWS

PHANTOM OF LIBERTY Meaghan Morris From a reviewer’s point of view, one of the nicest things about Phantom of Liberty is that it completely releases you from the irksome if self-imposed responsibility to say somewhere what the film is about or, more crudely, to tell the story.

It would be impossible for this film, unless you were to reproduce the whole script. That’s only to be expected from a work which generates a lot of humor by playing with the con­ ventions of various human communication structures.

Bunuel makes it very hard to write the formal quickie con­ sumer’s guide to his film, but at the same time if you read reviews before seeing the film then you do so at your own cost.

The reviewer resorts to describing bits of the film, which then become mythologised in advance for most potential viewers — classic cases being the pornographic postcard scene, where the cards turn out to be views of tourist spots, and the ‘dinner’ scene, where the bourgeoisie charmingly meet at table to ex­ crete together and discreetly slip away solo to eat in closets. By the time you actually see these sequences, they aren’t quite so funny; the joke is on your expectations.

If it s impossible to tell the story of Phantom of Liberty, it’s because the joke is also on our tenacious expectations about narrative logic. A minimal story has a beginning, a middle and an end; or presents a certain state of affairs, then a transform­ ing event and then a new, reorganized state of affairs. There is some continuity of character, even if it’s only the narrator.

That particular way of structuring communication has existed in practically every art form, and of course attempts to destructure, distort, defy or downright ignore it have become just as common.

There’s nothing new about anti-narrative, but Bunuel’s at­ tack this time is doubly funny because he has exploited much the same methods as eighteenth-century French novelists did — especially Diderot in Jacques le Fataliste — and they were quite as embarrassed by the phantom of liberty in artistic crea­ tion as any of their descendants might be. So the film’s innova­ tion is bound to a very old tradition indeed.

What Bunuel does is to set you up expecting a ‘story’ of some kind, and then he just breaks it off at the most interesting point and blithely passes on to another. Characters are es­ tablished, a situation outlined, a transforming event shown as occurring or impending — and then it’s left hanging, all begin­ ning, middle but no end.

There are dozens of stories of all kinds which remain poten­ tial in Phantom of Liberty. In the first twenty minutes or so we pass from a gothic horror structure (threatened necrophilia in a Spanish church by a captain in the invading Napoleonic ar­ my) to bourgeois satire of the bourgeoisie (the postcard scene) to a surrealist tale (the father in bed watching his clock jump an hour every few seconds while roosters and women and postmen parade through his bedroom) and then to what seems to be the beginning of a story of Teal life’ (a nurse going to see her dying father).

The transitions between these half-finished stories all seem perfectly natural, because each method of transition is itself a convention of narrative. The shift from Spain under Napoleon to contemporary Paris is made because the Spanish part turns out to be a representation of a story being read out by a French nursemaid in a park. The children take the cards home from the park, the father mentions that his nights have been disturb­ ed and then we see what they are like; and then, of course, he goes to the doctor and there is, naturally, a nurse there who might perfectly well receive a telegram saying her father is ill.

It’s about this point that the unwary viewer starts to realize that this tracking from tale to tale is going to go on and on and on, with no return to what has been left behind. The only ‘character’ which gives continuity becomes the camera itself, which seems to develop a personality that it would not be too fanciful to describe as pathologically curious in a fickle sort of way. It observes a scene for a while, then loses interest to follow a bystander or a minor character to show that person in the midst of their own story, and then it is off again following someone else who happens to be around.

There is a sharp contrast between situations which are presented as being the very stuff of narrative and an ‘observer’ oblivious to the demands of that sort of logic; oblivious like the birds who stare out of the screen (or back at the camera/narrator) looking mildly amazed by something for a moment, then disappearing.

As a result, Phantom of Liberty is a frustrating but tantaliz­ ing film to watch; it makes you feel like you're chasing a phan­ tom. Something is always just out of reach, or being snatched away from before your eyes.

The film takes you on a most peculiarly guided tour of society, with the camera playing a paradoxical, picaresque role, like the eighteenth century narrator who hated narration, the observer roaming through society following only the dic­ tates of chance and fortune, yet in the exercise of this very liberty’ returning inevitably to his point of departure.

And it is chance, ‘le hasard’, which is deliberately celebrated in the hilarious inn sequence by the hat manufacturer of Nimes, when he takes an extraordinary collection of people

Phantom of Liberty

Luis Bunuel during the shooting of Phantom of Liberty.

gathered there by the accident of a snowstorm and submits them to his own particular order of performance, or visual spectacle.

The film itself, of course, returns to its point of departure; it begins and ends with the cry “Vivan las caenas!" (“Long live chains!”) or as Bunuel’s own subtitle puts it, “A bas la liberté” . The film, in its refusal of one kind of ordering of events, produces another order; the perfect — and absurd — form of the circle.

The idea of linear progression is confronted by that of cir­ cularity. On one level, the whole of the film is a parody of the concept of linearity, political and historical as well as aesthetic. One thing follows another all right in Phantom of Liberty, but by means of a principle of random, ‘free’ selec­ tion. We get causes without effects, or we are not permitted to perceive the effects, or the effects are not at all what classic linear models lead us to expect.

If parody and dislocation of conventionalized ways like narrative, of ordering communication is a general structural principle of the film, that same principle is reproduced inside the film on a thematic level. At the beginning a painting comes to life and becomes a story; then a statue in the story comes to life and thumps the captain who had come to life from the painting. People ‘read’ messages all the time in the film, sometimes in a way which is equivalent to our own (the nurse’s telegram, the father’s correction of his daughter’s interpreta­ tion of the spider pictures), sometimes following a code which is entirely different (the ‘pornographic’ postcards).

A similar thing happens in the comedy of social exchange structures in the film. The social meanings of eating and ex­ creting are simply inverted, the disappeared child is ‘found’ only when the police chief decides she may be considered to have achieved that state, the courtroom becomes a place where a sniper is condemned to death to receive everyone’s con­ gratulations and go free.

The film becomes a satire on the arbitrary nature of signs, in fact. One can be surprised by this, taken unawares like the man in bed expecting that the sweep of a clock must ‘mean’ that an experienced hour of time should pass. Or one can accept it, like the prefect of police who passes calmly from one world where he is interpreted as a paranoiac impostor to another where he really is the double of the prefect of police and politely chats with him before going to some unspecified crisis at the zoo. He just crosses a threshold.

And again, as with the remark about chance, there is a com­ ment inside the film itself about its own process; a teacher of police mumbles on at length about the relativity of things. His class is, of course, continually interrupted and his lesson never finished.

The title and the use of the Goya painting at the beginning seem to me also to be jokes about expectation in the unwary.

One expects, I think, an overtly or explicitly political film, or at least a predominance of social satire. In the introduction to the script of the film published by L'Avant-Scene du Cinema, Roxane Saint-Jean claims that Phantom of Liberty is Bunuel’s revenge for the reception of The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie. He has repeatedly refused to be associated with symbolism, yet his films are persistently interpreted as allegories of the decadence of capitalism. I suppose you could do this to Phantom of Liberty as well, but you’d come up with something pretty pallid (e.g. liberty can’t be imposed, or liber­ ty haunts us but can never be seized and held, and aren’t the bourgeoisie ridiculous?).

The film certainly does have political implications, but they need to be read in the way the film turns in upon itself; it’s a film about film, if you like. Even the dinner sequence seems like somebody’s misquotation of The Discreet Charm of the Bourgeoisie.

One other interesting point is the element of parasitism in the social satire of this film. The role in which Buñuel is best loved often tends to be a rather chic trend-setting one. You look about you at interval, and it is quite disturbing to hear people laugh and cheer at satire of what is pretty much their own lifestyle — one which they are not likely to abandon because of Buñuel.

Maybe the final phantom is the liberating effect of the cinema.

T H E PH A N TO M OF LIB ERTY (LE FA N T O M E DE LA LIBERTE). Directed by Luis Buñuel. Distributed by Fox-Rank.

Production Company, Greenwich Productions. Executive Producer, Serge Silberman. Produced by Serge Silberman. Screenplay by Luis Buñuel, Jean-Claude Carriere. Photography, Edmond Richard. Art Director, Pierre Guffroy. Players, Adriana Asti (sister of the Prefect of Police), Julien Bertheau (1st Prefect), Jean-Claude Brialy (M Foucauld), Adolfo Celi (Dr Legendre), Paul Frankeur (The Innkeeper), Michel Lonsdale (The Hatter), Pierre Maguelon (The Policeman, Gerard), Francois Maistre (The Professor), Helene Perdriere (The Aunt), Michel Piccoli (2nd Prefect), Claude Pieplu (The Com­ missioner), Jean Rochefort (M Legendre), Bernard Verley (The Cap­ tain), Milena Vukotic (The Nurse), Monica Vitti (Mme Foucauld).

Eastmancolor. 104 min. French dialogue, English subtitles.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 157

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TOTAL IN -H O U S E FACILITIES

• Complete 16m.m. & 35m.m. Eastman Color

• Film to Video Tape Transfers

• Licenced Technicobr Super 8mm. Loading Station

• Complete Complété Sound Mixing Facilities Fa

• Opticals, Liquid Gate Printing, Titling & Animation

16mm&&35m.m.

35m.m.C.R.I. C.R.I.— —Color Color Proof Printing ••16mm.

• A & B Roll Hazeltine Color Analysers

Ektachrome16m.m.

16mm. Color Color FReversai •• Ektachrome

..

35 MM

PR O D UC TIO N SURVEY

35mm PRODUCTION SURVEY Music D ire c to r....................................Bob Young Sound R ecordist.......................... John Mulligan Sound R ecordist...................-..............Phil Judd Focus P u lle r............................ Peter van Santen IN PRODUCTION Assistant D ire c to r..............................Gerry Letts 35mm PREPRODUCTION Camera A ssista n t......................................... ChrisLofven Camera O p e ra to r......................Frank Hammon Boom operators .....................Brendan Comyn, Camera A s sista n t...........................John Clarke Phil Sterling Boom O p e ra to r..........................Jack Friedman C lapper/Loader.......................... Robert Marden Continuity .....................Margaret Rose-Dunphy G a ffer...............................................Ian Dewhurst ANGEL GEAR THE DEVIL’S PLAYGROUND Still Photography ..........................Chic Stringer Continuity ..................................Sylvia Stephens D ire c to r.........................................................EsbenStorm D ire c to r............................. Frederick A. Schepisi S tunts.............................................................. PeterWest, Grip ............................................... Dennis Wright, Screenplay .................................. Lewis Bayonas Screenplay ........................Frederick A. Schepisi Frank Lennon Nick Luhowsky P ro d u c e r........................................................ LynBayonas Producer ............................ Frederick A. Schepisi Electrician........................................ Brian Gross Assistant E d ito rs........................................... ChrisLofven, Executive Producer ................... John Andrews Production co m p a n y ................. The Film House Assistant e d ito rs ....................................... HowardBracken, Peter Whitmore' Production company ............... Qulnkan Films Cast: Nick Tate, Arthur Dlgnam, Charles Pauline Lind Best boys ............................ Wolfgang Knochel,' Cast: John Ewat, John Waters, Justine Saunders McCallum, John Frawley, Jonathan Hardy, Wardrobe ............................... Carmen Mendoza, Mike Ewan Synopsis: Story of truckdriver and hitchhiker on Thomas Kenealiy, Gerry Duggan, Peter Cox, Darrelyn Gunsberg M a k e u p ...........................................................Joan Cooley long cross-country haul.

Simon Burke.

B u d g e t..................................................... $100,000 R unner..................................Andrew Sutherland Director of P hotography................. Mike Edols M u s ic ........................................... Bruce Smeaton Progress .......................................... Release print B u d g e t........................................................$80,000 E d ito r.........................................................Anthony Buckley Director of Photography....................... Ian Baker Color process ........................................ Eastman Length .....................................................110 min.

Production Manager ............. Hayden Keenan E d ito r.............................................................. BrianKavanagh Color process .........................................

Eastman Art D irector................................... Monty Fleguth Production Manager ...................... Greg Tepper SIDECAR RACERS Progress ..................................................Shooting Sound R e co rd ist.......................Laurie Fitzgerald Art D irector............. ..........................Trevor Ling Mixer ............................................. Peter Fenton C ostum es/W ardrobe...................................BryceFinlayson D ire c to r.......................................... Earl Bellamy Assistant D ire c to r......................... Michael Lake Sound R ecordist..............................................DonConnolly S creenplay........................................................JonCleary Camera O p e ra to r...................Malcolm Richards Assistant directors .......................... Mai Brying, P ro d u cer.................................................... RichardIrving 35mm AWAITING RELEASE Camera A s s is ta n t......................................... BrianBansgrove Rhonda Schepisi Cast: BenMurphy, Wendy Hughes, John Boom O p e ra to r............................................ MaxHeuser Camera Operator .-................................ Ian Baker Clayton, John Melllon, John Derum, Serge Continuity ............................................... Lyn Gaile Camera A ssista n t.............................. Peter Sykes Lazareff, Peter Graves .

PICNIC AT HANGING ROCK Second Unit Photography ......... John Rhodes Boom O p e ra to r................................................JoeSplnnelli Synopsis: Drama set around sidecar racing in M a k e u p ........................................................... LizMltchie Clapper/Loader......................................WolfgangKressDirector ............................................... Peter Weir Sydney.

Screenplay ......................................... Cliff Green Technical A d v is o r................. Kenworth Trucks G a ffe r.............................................................. BrianAdams M u s ic ............................................................... Tom Scott P roducers........................ Jim and Hal McElroy B u d g e t................................................... $300,000 Continuity .............................................Jan Tyrrell Director of Photography................................PaylOnorato Executive Producer .......................... Pat Lovell Grip .............................................Joel Witherden Length ............................................... Two hours E d ito r......................................... Robert L. Kimble Executive Producer for S.A...........John Graves Progress .................................... Pre-production Assistant E d ito r................................Rodney Jay Production managers .......................Jim Hogan, Cast: Rachel Roberts, Dominic Guard, Vlvean Still Photography .......................... John Gollings Panavislon.

Warrack Freeman Gray, Helen Morse, Kirsty Child, Anne Lambert, Best B o y ........................................................DenisNikolic Sound R ecordist............................................JohnHeath BARNEY Karen Robson, Jane Vallls.

M a k e u p ............................................................ AnnPospichill Mixer ............................................. Les McKensle D ire c to r.............................. David S. Waddlngton S yn o p sis: S to ry of the m yste rio u s d is ­ T itle s .......................................................... Al Et Al Assistant d ire c to rs ............................. Jim Hogan, P ro d u c e r...........................David S. Waddlngton appearance of three schoolgirls from the ex­ B u d g e t..................................................... $300,000 Les White, Mike Midlam Cast: Undecided clusive Appleyard College, during a picnic at Length ....................................... 90 min. approx.

S tunts...................

Everett Creech Synopsis: A children’s feature. nearby Hanging Rock (1900).

Color process ......................................... Eastman APA Manager .................................. John Danlell Director of Photography___Brian Probyn BSC Director of Photography...........................RussellBoydCostumes ......................................Gloria Payten Progress .............................. Shooting May/June Production Manager ..............Richard Brennan E d ito r............................................................... MaxLemon T itles............................................... Universal Title Art D irector........................................Barry Adler Art D irector.................................. David Copping END PLAY B u d g e t................................... $1,000,000 approx.

Production Secretary.............. Doreene Patenal Assistant Art Director .................Chris Webster Length .......................................................100 min D ire c to r............................................. Tim Burstall Sound R e co rd ist..............................................DonConnolly Production Secretary........................ Pom Oliver Color Process ..................................... .Colorfllm Screenplay ....................................... Tim Burstall Assistant directors ........................Errol Sullivan, Production A cco u n ta n t............. John McIntosh P ro d u ce r...........................................

Tim Burstall Stephanie Clnls SAFC A ccountant.......................Phillip Smythe Associate Producer ........................ Alan Finney SCOBIE MALONE (HELGA’S WEB) G a ffe r........................................ Brian Bansgrove Executive Producer’s Secretary . . . .Jill Wishart Production c o m p a n y .............................

Hexagon D ire c to r..........................................................TerryOhlsson Continuity .......................................Jilda Berachla Consultant to D ire cto r..................

Martin Sharp Cast: George Mallaby, John Waters, Ken S creenplay........................ Casey Robinson and Still Photography .......................... Robert Taylor Sound R ecordist............................Don Connely Goodlet, Robert Hewett, Kevin Miles, Charles Graham Lockwood M a k e u p .......................................................... JosleNolan Assistant D ire ctors....................................... MarkEgerton, Tlngwell, Belinda Giblin, Walter Pym, Mai Bryn(Story by Jon Cleary) Wardrobe ..........................................Carol Berry Kim Dalton, nlng, Barry McQueen and Reg Gorman.

P ro d u cer....................................Casey Robinson C atering......................................................LarnachJones Ian Jamieson Synopsis: Mystery-thriller based on the Russell Associate Producer .......................... John Shaw Length ....................................................... Feature Camera O p e ra to r..........................................JohnSteele Braddon novel beginning with the murder of a Production Com pany............................. Rampton Progress ........................................Preproduction Focus P u lle r............. '............. David Williamson young hitch-hiker on Melbourne's Maroondah Distribution Company ....................Cemp-Retent C lapper/Loader........................... David Foreman Highway.

(Australia) EVI Entertainment Continuity ....................................Gilda Baracchi Director of Photography.............Robin Copping Ventures Inc. (Overseas) Grip ........................................... Georgle Dryden CADDIE Editor ................................................David Bilcock Cast: Jack Thompson. Judv Morris, Shane PorStill Photography ..........................David Kynoch Production Manager ......................Ross Dimsey D ire c to r............................................Don Cromble teous, Jacqueline Kott, James Condon, Joe Mar­ M a ke u p .............................................................. LizMltchie Screenplay .........................................Joan Long Art D irector..................................Bill Hutchinson tin, Cul Cullen, Noel Ferrler.

Electrician....................................Geoff Simpson Sound R ecordist..................................Des Bone P ro d u c e r.................................. Anthony Buckley Synopsis: The body of a beautiful playglrl Is Wardrobe Consultant...................... Wendy Weir Assistant D ire cto r.............................Ross Dimsey Synopsis: Based on the story of a young woman found deep in the labyrinth of the Opera House. .Wardrobe Supervisor ...............Judy Dorsman Focus P u lle r.....................................................IvanHexter and her two children during the twenties and Wardrobe A ssista n t.................................. MandySmithScoble Malone is assigned to solve the mystery, Camera A ssista n t........................................... DanBurstall thirties. the outcome revealing the different strata of Assistant E d ito r........................................... Andre Fleurin Boom O p e ra to r........................................Graham Irwin Dubbing Editor ................................. Sherry Bell Director of P hotography..............................PeterJames Sydney society.

Clapper/Loader......................................... GordonPhillips B u d g e t................................................... $386,000 M u s ic .................................................Peter Clark P ro p s ........................................... Graham Walker G a ffe r..........................................................Lindsay Foote Progress .................................... Pre-production Director of Photography.............................. KeithLambert Standby P rops............................................. MontyFleguth Continuity ..............................Alison Loftus-Hills E d ito r...................................................Bill Stacey B u d g e t.................................................... $300,000 Grip ............................................. Joel Witherden Production Manager ............................. J. Shaw Length .................................................... Feature MAD DOG Still Photography ............................. Susie Wood Art D irector..................................Bill Hutchinson ' Progress ...........................................Editing stage Director ........................................Philippe Mora M a ke u p ............................................................ LoisHofenfels C ostum es/W ardrobe............................ Anusska Screenplay .................................... Philippe Mora Wardrobe ......................................... Kevin Regan Mixer .................................. David McCommlchie P ro d u cers................................ . Jeremy Thomas B u d g e t.....................................................$244,000 Camera O p e ra to r...........................Guy Furner and Philippe Mora Progress ...........................................Editing stage Continuity ..........................................Sue Milliken 35mm IN RELEASE Synopsis: The film Is based on the legends and Still Photography ..........................Peter Carrette TRILOGY facts surrounding the tragic and spectacular M a k e u p ............................................Peggy Carter career of bushranger Daniel Morgan (1830­ (W o rkin g title) T itles........................................... Amanda Newtorv 65).

B u d g e t.................................................... $285,000; D ire cto rs........................................................DavidBaker, PLUGG Director of P hotography.............Michael Molloy Osvaldo Malone, D ire c to r..........................................................TerryBourke Length ..................................................... 100 min B u d g e t......................................................$350,000 Bruce McNaughton Progress ............................ Release print stage.

S creenplay.................................................... TerryBourke Length ...................................... Approx. 100 min S creenplay....................................................DavidBaker, P ro d u cer....................................Ninki Maslansky Color Process ................................ Eastmancolor Osvaldo Malone, Executive producers ........................ Bob Roget, Progress .................................... Pre-production Bruce McNaughton Peter McNamara For details of the following films see previous Anamorphic Panavision P ro d u cer.............................. Bruce McNaughton Associate producers ...................Terry Bourke, issues: Associate Producer ......................... David Baker Rod Hay Inn of the Damned Production c o m p a n y ................................ArandaFilmsProduction co m p a n y................................ Romac Promised Woman Cast: (to include) Peter Cummins, Beverly Cast: Peter Thompson, Cheryl Rixon, Norman The Removalists Phillips, Judy Johnson, Gus Mercurio, Lorraine Yemm, Reg Gorman, Phil Cleary, Edgar Met­ The Great McCarthy West, Ray Chubb, Christopher Pate, Julie Day, calfe, Allan Casseu, Joseph Furst.

The Cars That Ate Paris Daphno Miller.

Synopsis: Feature length sex-comedy set In Sunday Too Far Away Synopsis: A trilogy of fiction films.

Perth, relating the misadventures of a bumbling Alvin Purple Director of Photography . . . Bruce McNaughton private eye in his efforts to close down the Alvin Rides Again Pussycat Escort Agency.

Production managers ............ Sylvia Stephens, Bazza Holds His Own John Morgan Director of Photography . . , .Brian Probyn BSC Petersen Production Manager .......................Pat Clayton Art D irector..................................Robbie Perkins Above: Dave and Jeff — the winning pair in The True Story of Eskimo Nell Music D ire cto r...........................Bruce Smeaton Art D irector....................................... Barry Adler Sidecar Racers.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 159

16 MM PR O D UC TIO N SURVEY

¡6 mm PRODUCTION SURVEY 16mm PRODUCTION SURVEY ADAM D ire c to r............................................Paul Bugden Screenplay ......................................Paul Bugden P ro d u c e r............................................David Perry Production co. . . . . . . . Quest Fllms/Paul Bugden Cast: Wayne van Heekeren, Bob Hughes, David Calcott, Luda Aplnys, Noel Brady, Jeremy Chance.

Synopsis: A young man’s inability to cope with his own sexuality when confronted with It through an unfulfilled relationship with an older man.

Photography...................................... David Perry E d ito r............. ........................ Ronda MacGregor Production C o-ordinator........... Debbie Symes Sound R ecordist................................ Chris Doig Lighting assistants ......................Kym Newman, Russell Mulcahy M a k e u p ..........................................Robert Dallas B u d g e t...........................................................$2000 Length .........................................................30 min Progress ......................................... Release print

ALCESTIS D ire c to r............................................Ken Qulnnell Cast: Angela Korvislanos, Colin James, Virginia Sewlckls, Kent Sanderson, Graham Pitts, Chipe; Synopsis: “ A contemporary ritual presentation of Euripides’ melodrama” — Ken Qulnnell.

Photography......... .......................... Russell Boyd E d ito r......................................... Vince O’Donnell Production Manager ...................Box and Dice Sound R ecordist............................ Carlo Tarchi Special E ffects..........................Lauchlan Wilson P ro p s ......................................... Derrick Chetwyn Lengtn .........................................................30 min Color Process ........................................Eastman Progress ..........................................In production

ANTONIO GAUD! — TO A DANCING GOD Director ........................................ Theo Matthews S cre e n p la y........David Rapsey, Theo Matthews Synopsis: Documentary on Spanish architect Antonio Gaud! (1854-1926); his works and philosophies.

Photography ...................................... Phillip Bull E d ito r............................................. David Rapsey B u d g e t...........................................................$5000 Length .........................................................30 min Color process ........................................Eastman Progress .........................................Release print

APPLAUSE PLEASE D ire c to r....................................................Ivan Gall Cast: Max Gillies, Bob Thornycroft, Joe Balza Synopsis: A co-operative effort by the director and cast to create a satire on our daily commer­ cial ‘television diet’ and its viewers.

M u s ic ............. Frank Zappa, Franciscus Hankie Sound ............................................David Hughes Length ..................................................... .20 min Color process .................................... Eastman Progress ..................................................Editing

Assistant Director Camera operators

Lighting .....................

Second Unit Director Grip ..........................

Special e ffe cts.........

Budget .....................

■Length .......................

Color process .........

Progress ...................

.............. David Huggett ......... Flannagan Bros,i David Wakely, Oscar Scherl, Eddy Van Der Madden .................Oscar Scherl ...............David Huggett ........... Manfred Yergen Eddy Van Der Madden

..........$ 100 ,000 - $ 120,000

.. 3040 metres (90 min) ..........................Eastman ...............Editing stages

CEREMONY D ire c to r............................................. David Grelg Cast: David Leahy, Beverly Slulter Synopsis: A film of ritual and confrontation between an artist and a woman.

Photography....... Wolfgang Kress, David Grelg E d ito r................................................. David Grelg Production C o-ordinator........Deborah Ranson P a in tin g s........................................... Paul Mason Sound ............................................... Daryl Evans B u d g e t...........................................................$3000 Length .........................................................25 min

DAFFY D ire c to r........................................... David J. King S cre e n play......... Robert Davies, David J. King P ro d u cer........................................David J. King Cast: David Smith, Helen Kostiuk, Julie Rysdale, Robert Davies.

Synopsis: The last days of a perverted student’s life.

Director of Photography . ............ David J. King E d ito r..................... ...................Ian Harvey M u s ic .....................

Sound Recordist .. ...................Ian Harvey Continuity ............. ......... Phyllis Hodgkins R e-recordist......... . .Gable Summertime Prods Length ................... .......................... 17 min Progress ............... . Final post-production

THE DEVIL S PARTY D ire c to r............................................... Don Friend Screenplay ......................................... Alan Bond Original S to ry ................................ Trevor Scahill P ro d u ce r...............................................Alan Bond Cast: Yvonne Kurener, Trevor Scahill, Daryl Hood, Morris Hatter, Christine Croome, Paula Samuelson.

Synopsis: Four young people attend a mystery surprise party with bizarre and deadly conse­ quences.

Photography......................................... Alan Bond Sound recordists ..........................Bob Cooper, Jim Dunn Lighting .................................................. Jim Dunn Continuity ......................................... Don McNair B u d g e t.........................................................$3,000 Length ..................................................30-40 mins Color Process ........................................Eastman Progress .........................................In production

DON’T TALK TO ME ABOUT THE BLUES, BABY

D ire c to r.......................................... Jean Buckley S cre e n play.....................................Jean Buckley P ro d u ce r........................................ Jean Buckley Cast: Janet Collins, Colin James, Graham Pitts BO DREAM Synopsis: A young housewife leaves her hus­ D ire c to r...................................................... Gordon Muchband and children after a violent fight and is Screenplay ..................................... Gordon Much raped by a hitchhiker.

P ro d u ce r.....................................................Gordon Much Photography............................ David Sanderson Associate Producer ............. Peter Conyngham Production Manager .....................Ken Qulnnell Production co. ....... Nova-Narma Productions Music D ire cto r............................... Janet Collins Cast: Bo Dlddley, Cookie Vee, Jeff St John, Sound ............................................. Carlo Tardls Kahvas Jute Band.

Camera A ssista n t......................... Martha Kaye Synopsis: Opening of the Opera House and the Length .........................................................30 min variety of entertainment and events celebrating Progress ..........................................Editing stage it. A musical fantasy seen through the eyes of Bo Dlddley.

Art D irector.......................Nigel Blackburn-Elllot Production Designer ....... .

Delana McLarty DOUBLE DEALER Script A ssista n t.......................... Delenda Much D ire c to r...............................................Allan Dickes Music D ire c to r.................................... Bo Dlddley Sound R ecordist.............................................. MaiReadScreenplay ......................................Phillip Avalon Executive Producer .......................Phillip Avalon Mixer ...............................................................APA

160 — Cinema Papers, July-August

. . . Smart St Films Distribution Company Associate Producers ............... Neville Stevens, ............... $150,000 B u d g e t........................

Allan Trott, Length .......................

Anthony Fields, ....... ........... 90 min ........... .

16mm Gauge ........................

Richard Bradley, Starting 2 months Progress .....................

Michael Farr-Comlni Production Com pany...................Phillip Avalon Cast: Guy P enlston-B Ird, P h illip Avalon, David Calicot, Sharon Smith, Rusiland Richards, GIVE US THIS DAY Bob Lee, Tony Fields, Lorna Leslie, Sue Church, Joan Bennett, Judy Matthews, Michelle Napier.

OUR DAY IN THE SUN Synopsis: Story of an undercover dope ring in D ire c to rs ........................................... Bruce Usher, Sydney.

Russell Sheppard, M u s ic .............................................John Robinson S creenplay........................................ Bruce Usher, Director of Photography......... Richard Bradley Russell Sheppard, E d ito rs ........................ Allan Trott, Allan Dickes Phil Sheppard Art Directors......... Scott Davis, Neville Stevens P ro d u cers..........................................Bruce Usher, Production C o-ordinator.............Lionell Slutzkin Russell Sheppard, Production Secretary................................YvonneForster Phil Sheppard Costum es/W ardrobe................... Karmen Doran Cast: N. Cains, Simon Anderson, Mark Warren.

Sound Recordists . . . . Jim Bursan, Neil Jaeger Synopsis: A look at the way Australians escape Special Photographic Effects . . . . Rick Bradley from the cities spanning the country from the 1st Assistant Director ..........................Peter Bell Nullarbor to Surfers Paradise.

Camera operators .. Mike Kings, Rick Bradley Budget .................................................... $10,000 Camera A ssista n t.......................... Larry O’Shea Length .........................................................25 min Boom O p e ra to r...................................... Peter Bell Color Process ........................................Eastman Clapper/Loader..............................................JohnCollins Progress ..........................................Release Print Continuity ........................................... Julie Miller Set Decorator .........................................c. Smith Grip ....................................................Peter Callas HARD KNOCKS Still Photography ...........................John Collins Director ................................................. Philip Bull Hairdresser....................................Karmen Doran Screenplay ..........................................Greg Flynn M a k e u p ......................................Derek De Niece P ro d u ce r.......................... .................John Fiocco S tunts......................................... Peter Armstrong Cast: Frank McKallister, Geoffrey Gibbs, Olwyn Electricians....... Jim Williams, Mlcha Musslnon S u m m e rs , R o b e rt F a g g e tte r, N ic o le Casting....................................•........ Nora Burnett Desmarcheller, JonTyrrell, James Setches, B u d g e t......................................................$25,000 David Witt, Steve Jodrell, Wendy Arnold, Tony Length ......................................................... 90 min Watts, Thea Calzoni.

Color Process ....................................... Eastman Synopsis: Satire concerning a footballer/polltiProgress ............................................. Editing July clan set in an Australian context.

Photography.................................................. Philip Bull E d ito r..............................................................Philip Bull Production Manager ...................... John Fiocco DR. K Sound R ecordist..........................Aneurin Smith Assistant D ire c to r....................... Roger Hudson D ire c to r............................................... Phil Noyce Camera A s sista n t........................ Harry Bardwell Script E d ito r.......................... Anne Brooksbank Lighting A ssista n t........................ David Valentine P ro d u ce r..................................... Richard Mason M a k e u p ......................................Suzle Craddock, Production Com pany..................Film Australia Liz Maddock Cast: Henri Steps, Peter Cummings, Robin B u d g e t.........................................................$8,000 Leven, Martin Harris, John Gaden, Kevin Healy, Length .........................................................

50 min Ben Gabriel Color Process . . . . ' ................................ Eastman Synopsis: Part documentary and part drama­ tized fiction, Dr. K. traces the life of Dr. Archie Kalokerinos and his work with aborigines In the northern New South Wales town of Collarenebrl.

HISTORY OF AUSTRALIA B u d g e t...................................................Unknown D ire c to r............................................. Bruce Petty Progress ............................................... Unknown S crip tw riter........................................Bruce Petty P ro d u ce r........................................Errol Sullivan, Richard Brennan Cast: Jude Kuring, John Derum, Gordon Chater, THE FAR OUT ADVENTUR ES OF Noeline Brown, John Gaden, Martin Harris, Max CAPTAIN COOL Gillies, Chris Haywood, John Stephan.

Synopsis: Australia Is given her first chance to D ire c to r..................................... Hayden Keenam contribute a role in the long running All Nations S creenplay................................Hayden Keenam Review. She makes it, but the cost is a loss of in­ P ro d u cer............................................. John Chew nocence.

B u d g e t.....................................................$150,000 Photography ............................. David Sanderson Length .........................................................90 min E d ito r.............................................Wayne Le Clos Gauge ........................................................ 16mm Art D irector................................................... MonteFleguth Progress.................................Starting 2 months Sound R ecordist..................... Laurie Fitzgerald Camera A s sista n t......................................... PeterMoss Boom O p e ra to r.......................

David Cooper G a ffe r........................................ Brian Bansgrove FLOATING Continuity ............................................. Lyn Galley D ire c to r........................................................... MikeEdols M a k e u p ...............................................................LizMichie Synopsis: The clash between white and black Production A ssista n ts___Stephen McClyment, cultures in the Northern Territory.

Patrick Cook Photography........................................Mike Edols T itles....................................Kazzan International E d ito r............................................... Esben Storm B u d o e t....................................................... $17,000 M u s ic ............... People of the Mowanjum Tribe Length ........................................................35 min Sound ............................................. Max Heusser Progress .................................................... Editing’ Assistant D ire c to r.......................... Leo McLaren N a rra to r............................................................ BobMaza Length ........................................................ 75 min Color process ....................................... Eastman Progress .......................................... Release print

THE FURTHER OUT ADVENTURES OF CAPTAIN COOL D ire c to r,......................................... Esben Storm Screenplay ......................................Esben Storm P ro d u cer............................................. John Chew

Above: A n g e lia K o rv is la n o s and Kent Sanderson in a scene from Alcestis, directed

by Ken Qulnnell.

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ILLUMINATIONS

MELANIE AND ME

SURFABOUT 75

A WINTERS TALE

D ire c to r...................................................Paul Cox D ire c to rs ..........................................Bruce Usher,' D ire c to r.......................................................... DavidElfick D ire c to r........................................... Chris Fitchett Russell Sheppard Phil Sheppard, Screenplay .............................................Paul Cox S cre e n play.................................................... DavidElfick Cast: Michael Carman, Sally Conabere, Debbie P ro d u c e r.........................................................Tlbor Markus P ro d u ce r............................................. David Elfick Burke, Annie Ryall Screenplay ...................................Phil Sheppard Production c o m p a n y .............................VoyagerFilms Executive Producer ....................... Tlbor Markus Photography...................................... Ellery Ryan P ro d u cers....................................Phil Sheppard, Associate Producer ............... Rodrick McNicol!

Distribution com pany................................. SevenKeys Music d ire c to rs ........Simon Jones, John Shaw Russell Sheppard, iProduction C om pany.......................Illumination ¡Sound R ecordists................. Michael Cremean, Cast: Various international surf stars.

Bruce Usher Film Production John Ruane, Tim Smart Synopsis: An entertaining coverage of the Production C om pany.........................Peninsular Distribution Company .................. Illumination Assistant directors ......................... Julie Steiner,. world’s richest surfing contest held in May 1975.

Rim Productions1 Film Production Andrew Cruickshank Interviews Include: ‘Rabbit’ Bartholomeu (winner Cast: Nat Young, Midget Farrelly, Wayne Lynch, Release Date .............................. November 1975 of eating contest, record 2.8kg of rice, Continuity ......................................... Cass Peters Gerry Lopez, Michael Peterson.

Still Photography ..................... Peter Edwards vegetables and fruit) and ‘Snowy’ McAlister, C ast: Gabi Trsek, Tony Louw elen-Jones.

Synopsis: Current surf trends in four countries 'Norman Kay, Athol Shmith, Sheila Florence, winner of Bondi Title 1975.

G ra p h ic s .................................... Gordon Fitchett — Australia, New Zealand, Hawaii, South Africa. iAIan Money.

B u d g e t...........................................................$5000 T itles.......................Cummings Optical Services Photography..........................Russell Sheppard, Synopsis: A young couple live in an almost Length .........................................................50 min Length .........................................................11 min Phil Sheppard Progress .............................. Final editing stages hallucinatory world. The film makes an attempt Progress .............................. Release print stage N a rra to r............................................. ‘Tom Farley’ at extending consciousness beyond the limits B u d g e t.......................................................$15,000 imposed by our ego.

Length ........................................................ 90 min M u s ic .......................... Norman Kay, Alex Berry THE UNDERSTUDY Progress .............................. Release print stage ON ANY MORNING Director of Photography . . . . Wolfgang Beilharz D ire c to r............................................. Eric Luighal D ire c to r............... ........................ David Sumpter E d ito rs ........................ Russell Hurley, Paul Cox Screenplay ........................................Eric Luighal S cre e n play..................................David Sumpter Art D irector.............................Alan Stubenrauch P ro d u ce r........................................... Eric Luighal P ro d u cers.................................. David Sumpter, Production Designer ........... Alan Stubenrauch Production company . . . . Sandbar Productions ¡Production Co-ordinator and .

Bn view of the rapid growth of Phil Sheppard, Cast: Jeanne Drynan, Don Barkham, Frank [ Dialogues .....................................John Morphy Russell Sheppard, AustraHan production the co­ McTearnan, Robin Bowering, Graham Pitt, Ivar Music D ire c to r....................................... Alex Berry Alan Rich, Kants. ordinator of this column would C ostum es/W ardrobe................ Brigitte Lindsay Production c o m p a n y ......................... D. S. Films Synopsis: "A film within a film and what tran­ Sound R e co rd ist........>................ Russell Hurley Cast: Wayne Lynch, Geoff Halkman, Paul be greatly assisted by in ­ spires when actors don’t relate to a situation as Mixer .............................................. Russell Hurley Neilson etc. the director believed they would" (Eric Luighal) dividual producers and direc­ Sound Editor ................................. Russell Hurley Synopsis: Surfing film — waves and laughs.

Photography................................ Gaile Tattersall Special Photographic Effects ..............Paul Cox tors sending their production M u s ic ................................................. 'Shadowfax' Production Manager ..................... Errol Sullivan Assistant D ire c to r.......................... Bernard Eddy Photography..................................David Sumpter details and stills to: Production Assistant .....................Chris Morgan Camera O p e ra to r...................... Edward Keogh: E d ito r.............................................David Sumpter Sound R ecordist.............................. Carlo Tachi Production Survey, Camera Assistant .....................Brian Gracey B u d g e t........................................................ $8,500 Assistant directors ........................ Errol. Sullivan,» Boom O p e ra to r............................ Mauric Hambur Length ............................ ............................83 min Cinema Papers, Diana Kearns >Clapper/Loader............................ Andrew Jones Progress .............................. Release print stage Camera O p e ra to r................. Malcolm Richards 143 Therry Street, G a ffe r.....................................................Ken Wright Lighting ................................... Brian Bansgrove Continuity .................................. Brigitte Lindsay Melbourne, Victoria, 3000.

B u d g e t............................................... $24,000 Second Unit Photography ................... Wim Cox ONCE Length .........................................................90 min Assistant Art Director ....................... Alinta Uren Color process ......................................... Eastman Directors .. Mark D’Arcy-Irvine, Gerry Archibald Set Decorator ............................Sandra Leveson Progress ....................................... Pre-production Producers Mark D’Arcy-Irvine, Gerry Archibald Still Photography ............. Julie Higgenbotham Synopsis: Animated film satirising the world and T itle s ......................................................Julian Eddy Above left: Paul Cox directs Tony Llewellynits constant urge to destroy Itself by nuclear B u d g e t...................................................... $25,000 Jones and Gabi Trsek in Illuminations.

ON THE TRACK OF weapons.

Length ......................................................... 90 min UNKNOWN ANIMALS E d ito r........................................... Peter Blaxland Color Process ........................................Eastman N a rra to r....................................Roger Newcomb Above right: Bob Weis’ Children of the Moon.

Progress ......................................... Editing stages D ire c to rs ........................................Gordon Glenn, Animation .Mas Sani, Garry Archibald, Mar Keith Robertson D'Arcy-Irvine S cre e n play....................................Gordon Glenn, Animation ........................................... Mas Sani, Keith Robertson Gerry Archibald, JOG’S TROT P ro d u cers......................................Gordon Glenn, Mark D’Arcy-Irvine D ire c to r............................... John Papadopoulos Keith Robertson , Inking and painting supervision .. .Judy Lengal Screenplay .......................................... Sally Blake Executive Producers ...................Gordon Glenn, B u d g e t.......................................................... $2300 P ro d u c e r.............................' ........ Harvey Shore Keith Robertson Length ................................................. Seven min Associate P ro d u c e r......... John Papadopoulos Production C om pany.......................Acme Films Production c o m p a n y ............... Pendragon Films Distribution Company .....................Acme Films Cast: Arthur Dignam Cast: Keith Robertson (Reporter), Rllla Martin, Synopsis: Film chronicles the after-life of the SUMMER SHADOWS Graeme Martin, Ted Harrison, Alan Bailey, Bob main character Jog. A born loser, he goes D ire c to r.......................................................... ScottMurray Warneke. through the process of changing his self-crea­ Screenplay ............... Scott Murray/SImon Scott Synopsis: A wildlife documentary that turns into ted hell into a personal paradise.

P ro d u cer............................................Simon Scott a who-done-it. The film explores the possibility Director of Photography___Brian Probyn BSC Executive Producer .....................Gillian Murray of the existence of a large, unknown striped Art D irector......................

Sally Blake Associate Producer .............................. Ian Mills animal on the Australian mainland.

M u s ic ............................................Charles Pilesco Production co m p a n y.........-. Summer Shadows Sound R e co rd ist................................. Carlo Tachi ......... Gordon Glenn Photography Distribution com pany.........................Acme Films Continuity .............................................Fred Blake ......... Gordon Glenn, Editors . ..' ..

Release date ........................................ November M a k e u p ................................................. Sally Blake Keith Robertson Cast: Katie Morgan, Michael Truebenbacher, E lectrician................................ Brian Bansgrove ........... Andrew Pecze Sound Recordist . . .

Nick Scott, Sue Hurley, Fiona Russell, Pat Wardrobe ......................................Rose Jackson ........................ A.P.A. Mixer .......................

Scevington, Debbie Nankervls, Rod Bishop.

B u d g e t....................................................... $25,000 .............. Scott Murray Sound Editor .........

Synopsis: Sensitive study of a fa lte rin g Length .........................................................45 min ......... Andrew Pecze, Sound re-recordists relationship between two young people.

Progress ........................................Editing stages Ian Armet, Director of Photography..........................GordonGlenn Alan Kidson E d ito r.............................................................. ScottMurray ............. Terry Norris N a rra to r.......

Sound R ecordist......................................... LloydCarrick ....... Keith Robertson T itles.............

Camera A ssista n t......................................... PeterJensen MAY FLY .. 55 min (1,800 feet) Length .........

Boom O p e ra to r.........................Chris Goldsmith Eastmancolor (V.F.L.) Color Process D ire c to r......................................Kevin Anderson G a ffe r................................................. Rick Nelson ....................In release Progress . . . .

Cast: Walter Dobrowolski, James Robertson, Sound Re-recordist ...................Bob Gardiner Maureen Sadler Assistant E d ito r..........................Sylvie le Clezio Synopsis: Twenty-four hours In the life of a crime B u d g e t........................................................$20,000 writer, in which he confronts the characters in his Length .........................................................80 min latest novel.

Black and white s to c k .......................Ilford Pan F Photography.............................. Kevin Anderson Progress ......................................................Editing Production Assistant .................. Tony Stevens Sound R ecordist.........................Darryl Gladwin Continuity .................................... Dianne Glulieri Progress ........................................Editing stages

Cinema Papers, July-August — I6l

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PR O D UC TIO N SURVEY

GENERAL

PRODUCTION SURVEY Paul Witzig island Films Project: Rolling Home

AUSTRALIAN FILM DEVELOPMENT CORPORATION

Film projects given financial support January-June 1975.

Preproduction Approvals Bruce Beresford Brixton Productions Pty. Ltd. Project: The Getting of Wisdom

$2,000

D. Chidal, I. Barry, H. Hall, B. Walker Project: The Wild Colonial Boy

$2,400

Mary Hayward Project: Ballad of a Country Girl

$736

Chris Lofuen Project: Oz

$1,910

Tom Jeffrey Samson Productions Project: The Reckoning

$3,250

J. P. O’Sullivan Project: Old Charlie

$3,050

David Elfick Voyager Films Project: Newsfront

$4,000

Production Approvals H. Crawford Crawford Productions Project: The Box

$115,000

D. Waddington Waddington Productions Project: The Territorians

$836 (loan)

Richard Brennan B. C. Productions Project: Promised Woman

$4,131

Anthony Buckley Project: Caddie

$150,000

C. E. Bulenda Australiana Films Project: The Last of the Stoneage People $700 H. Crawford Crawford Productions Projects: Thorn, Hotel, Hoop

$243,498

Phillip Adams Monahan Dayman and Adams Project: Don’s Party

$50,000

David Waddington David Waddington Productions Project: Barney

$80,000

David Baker Stoney Creek Films Project: Squeaker’s Mate John Duigan Project: Trespassers

$3,000 $20,000

Philippe Mora Motion Picture Productions Project: Mad Dog

$170,000

South Australian Film Corporation Project: Storm Boy

$82,101

Ronda MacGregor Project: Wheels

$10,000

Post-Production Approvals R. Raymond Robert Raymond Associates Project: The Australian Ark Margaret Fink Margaret Fink Productions Project: The Removalists P. Cornford Span Films Project: Birdman

$3,600

$40,000 (loan)

$1,319 (loan)

David Baker Stoney Creek Films Project: Salute to the Great McCarthy

$7,800

JEWELLERY

A ROAD IN TIME

D ire c to r..................................................John Dick D ire c to r......... ............................... Terry Jennings Executive Producer ................... Malcolm Smith Screenplay . . . ...............................................Terry Jennings Production c o m p a n y ........Boslsto Productions Producer .......................................Terry Jennings Taries Distribution Synopsis: History of roadmaking in South Aus­ Synopsis: Three short films on jewellery.

United Sound tralia.

Photography..................................... John Ellson Project: Between Wars $1,675 Length ........................................................ 20 min E d ito r............................................... Kerry Regan Everglades Productions Gauge ...........................................................16mm Production C o-ordinator......... Penny Chapman $12,580 Project: Naturally Free Color process ......................................... Eastman Length .........................................................23 min Gauge ...........................................................16mm Bruce Petty STARRING JACK THOMPSON Color process ......................................... Eastman Project: History of Australia $2,500 Executive Producer ...................Malcolm Smith Production c o m p a n y ....................... Scope Films THE MIKADO AND THE GONDOLIERS Synopsis: Documentary on the making of Sun­ Director (film version) .......................Gil Brealey day Too Far Away Synopsis: Film version of stage performance.

Length ........................................................ 24 min Photography................................................. MiltonIngerson, Gauge ...........................................................16mm Paul Dallwitz, SOUTH AUSTRALIAN Color John Ellson E d ito r..............................................................KerryRegan FILM CORPORATION Sound R ecordist...........................................BarryBrown Length ................................................. Two hours WEST LAKES Gauge ...........................................................16mm D ire c to r........................................... Brian Bergin AN EXPERIMENT IN MEDIUM DENSITY P ro d u cer.................................... Milton Ingerson Executive Producer ............................... Jill Robb D ire c to r........................................... Brian Berger Synopsis: The commercial development of West P ro d u ce r......................................Milton Ingerson MONARTO Larkes.

Executive Producer ..............................Jill Robb D ire c to r.............................................................BobTalbot E d ito r.........................................G. Turrey-Smith Synopsis: Medium density housing at West Screenplay .....................................Russell Porter Sound R ecordist................................ Bob Allan Lakes P ro d u cer...........................................................BobTalbot Length ......................................................... 12 min Photography................................ Milton Ingerson Synopsis: Documentary on town of Monarto.

Gauge ...........................................................16mm E d ito r......................................... E.-Turrey-Smith Photography.............................. Gordon Bennett Sound Recordist ................................ Bob Allan Sound R ecordist........................ Don Jenkinson WOMEN IN THE WORKFORCE Length .........................................................15 min BURNS Gauge ...........................................................16mm Screenplay ..........................................David Tiley Color process ................................... Ektachrome P ro d u cer....................................... Malcolm Smith Screenplay .....................................Russell Porter Executive Producer .................... Terry Jennings Research................................... Chris Schoefield Length ......................................................... 20 min Synopsis: Documentary on three families who MOTIVATING READING Gauge ...........................................................16mm have had burn accidents in the home.

D ire c to r........................................ Ron Sanders Color process ......................................... Eastman Length .........................................................15 min P ro d u cer......................................Malcolm Smith Progress .......................................... Script stages Gauge ...........................................................16mm Synopsis: Motivated reading for students of all Color process ......................................... Eastman ages.

■ TRANSPORT PLANNING Photography.........................Edwin Scragg, ACS E d ito r..............................................................Kerry Regan Screenplay ......................................Brian Bergin CONCEPTS Production Manager ........................ Sue Mogg P ro d u cer....................................... Malcolm Smith D ire c to r.............................................................RonSanders Sound R ecordist................................. Bob Adler Synopsis: How transport might affect future Screenplay ............................ Sophia Turkiewicz Length .........................................................22 min urban form and life.

P ro d u cer...................................................Malcolm Smith Gauge ...........................................................16mm Length ....................................................15-20 min Synopsis: In service training for teachers Color process ......................................... Eastman Gauge .......................................................... 35mm Photography.......................................Gus Howard Production Manager ...................... Sue Mogg Music D ire cto r...................S. Ostoja-Kotkowski Still Photography .......................... David Kynoch A n im a to r.......................................... David Kynoch Length ........................................................ 10 min Gauge ...........................................................16mm Color process .......................... .’ ...........Eastman $1,398

DEMOCRACY Screenplay ............................ Sophia Turkiewicz P ro d u ce r...................................................Malcolm Smith Synopsis: A stimulating film to combat ignorance and apathy Length ........................................................ 20 min Gauge ...........................................................16mm Color process ......................................... Eastman Progress ........................................... Script stage

EXPRESSIVE ARTS D ire c to r.............................................................RonSanders S cre e n play....................................................... RonSanders P ro d u ce r...................................................Malcolm Smith Synopsis: Expressive and performing arts in the primary school.

Photography.........................Edwin Scragg, ACS E d ito r............................................ Wayne Le Clos Production Manager ........................ Sue Mogg Sound R ecordist.................................Bob Allen Length ...................................................10-20 min Gauge .....................................

16mm Color process ......................................... Eastman

FURTHER EDUCATION D ire c to r........................................... Brian Bergin S cre e n play......................................... David Tiley P ro d u ce r...................................................Malcolm Smith Synopsis: Six short films on further education in South Australia.

Photography................................ Milton Ingerson E d ito r......................................... G. Turney-Smith Production Manager ....................Nick Cockram Sound R ecordist..............................Rod Pascoe Length , . . . ................................................. 40 min Gauge ...........................................................16mm

Above: David Baker on the set of The Great McCarthy.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 163

Bolex announces the H16EL, with a new kind of meter that is ultra sensitive to light changes and built for hard use.

The motor is electronically controlled. When you stop, it stops. And the shutter closes. You can use your original film without having to cut frames from both ends of each take.

The viewfinder has high brightness and 13x magnification, plus built-in comfort with either eye. Two red light diodes in the viewfinder indicate correct aperture. No waiting for a needle to settle down. The diaphragm of the new Vario-Switar 12.5-100mm f2 lens is fully open for accurate focusing and closes down automatically when you squeeze the button.

Power is supplied by a Ni-Cd battery. Take your choice of two power packs, two chargers. ' .

With the usual Bolex attention to detail, a full range of accessories is available, including a removable 400 foot magazine that is used with a take-up motor providing constant Film tension.

The whole unit is built like a tank. It is a rugged and reliable piece of gear that is as fail­ safe as Bolex know-how can make it, despite its light weight (about 71bs for body and power pack).

The Bolex Shoulder brace provides excellent stability with good weight distribution, and frees the camera­ man’s hands to operate camera and lens.

Contact Photimport in your state for further information or a demonstration.

Photimport (Aust) Pty Ltd Melbourne 38 6922 Sydney 26 2926 Brisbane 52 8188 Adelaide L H Marcus 23 2946 Perth L Gunzburg 28 3377 PBO5076

A built-in light meter once turned even, a ruggedly built pro camera into a delicate instrument.

Enter the H16EL, with a silicon cell instead of the conventional CdS cell. Results: 1. Instant response to light variations. Shift from blinding light to deep shadow with perfect results. 2. No sensitivity to temperature variations. 3. No corrections needed, because of its straight response curve. 4. Equally responsive to all colours from blue to red.

Manual light measurements are made through the lens in the body of the camera so the camera can be fitted with any optics, including long telephotos, macrolenses, even extension tubes. For extreme changes of light, use a lens with built-in automatic exposure adjustment.

Bayonet lens mount for quick and precise changes. So strong that you can carry the whole camera by the lens.

Film speeds 10-50 fps, single frame, reverse and crystal control are electronically regulated and are coupled automatically to the meter, with a selector knob rated from 10 right up to 630ASA.

if

Could you describe your approach to scoring a film from the initial con­ tact with a director to the recording sessions?

When I’m together with the direc­ tor I try and find out who he is and what he is. I’m terribly interested in his approach.

I’ve almost come to the conclusion now that I loathe reading scripts. It’s the old complaint — the film isn’t like the book. If I read the script my approach is similar to the book; I hurl myself into it and try to make it come alive and inevitably I build up enormously strong ideas of what the characters are like, who they are, how they react.

Would it be commonplace in your experience in this country for the person who is writing the music to be come involved in the film at script level?

No, it’s not. Actually that’s a terri­ ble thing; sometimes you get the feel­ ing that you’ve been brought in as ,some sort of unimportant element.

In fact it’s even gone so far on a few things I’ve done that they actual­ ly sent the film off for opticals before I was approached — and then there were the most horrendous timing problems.

So, providing the film hasn’t already had its opticals done . ..

Well, then I’m usually dragged off to see either rushes or rush cuts.

The director is obviously in­ terested in my reaction to them, and I try to be honest. I try not to be a director or a film editor.

Then, if he’s professional — which is also stunningly rare — he’s worked out some things in his own mind.

And, if he’s buried in his film and really believes in what he’s doing, he’s basically talking emotions.

It’s important to me that a direc­ tor knows what he wants more than any other thing because I may mis­ interpret what I see on the screen.

Bruce Smeaton is one of the few well-established names in a comparatively new field for Australian musicians — film scoring.

Since 1973 Smeaton has worked on five feature films, scored numerous TV series and features, and has been involved to vary­ ing degrees in composing literally hundreds of soundtracks for commercials, documentaries and audio-visual presentations.

Smeaton’s most recent projects include the new ABC TV series Ben Hall and Peter Weir’s latest feature, Picnic at Hang­ ing Rock.

Ivan Hutchinson and Peter Beilby interviewed Bruce Smeaton recently at his home in Melbourne.

Maybe he’s deliberately got the ac­ tors to underplay the whole thing because he wants to topple it a cer­ tain way with music — that’s why he’s got to tell me what to do.

From then on we’re usually in dead trouble in Australia, because at that stage they usually take out the latest LP they’ve bought and play it.

So, depending on how broke I am, I either submit or dig my heels in as early as I can or resign the job on the spot, because if that’s what the direc­ tor wants, the LP perhaps, he should have bought it or he should go and do a course at the Conservatorium. I’m not here to help him out as a sur­ rogate.

But anyway we move past that.

It’s then terribly important to get the film editor in — and he has to be as sensitive as the director to minute changes of rhythm in the film. Often he is — more so.

One thing I’ve learned the hard way is that you need a good visual trigger to get the music in. So with the music editor, I look for the precise point to bring the music in and the precise point to take it out.

Getting out is the thing.

This is before you’ve written anything?

I haven’t written a thing. My mind’s probably flopping around like a blancmange. I’ve got no real idea.

It’s important to keep your mind as vague as possible for as long as possible.

Besides, at this stage we haven’t talked budgets or anything at all. So what’s the use of me saying, “ Yes, I can hear 500 bass flutes come howl­ ing in here,” when they might only have enough money to pay for a banjo?

So we go through all these points and we add up the total amount of music. At this stage we’re talking about money, and it’s at this stage that I usually find out that no provi­ sion has been made for budget — none whatsoever — and they usually say they’re hoping to mix it the following week.

I eventually get to the stage where I’ve got some sort of idea going in my head and I’ve got a fair idea of what I physically need to bring a thing off. Then it’s largely a matter of sitting down with the timings in feet and frames, breaking them down into seconds with the aid of an electronic calculator, then cor­ relating them with a digital metronome.

At that stage I usually get around to booking the musicians and the studio, and try to break things down onto a m echanical core with reco rd in g ca lls. I t ’s u su ally preferable to try and start with a lot of musicians and gradually work through to fewer and fewer until you’re finished. At the end of that we mix and it goes off to the film editor who lays it up in sync with the film and the other sound tracks.

I prefer to attend the film mix, although I’ve only been invited once in my life.

It must be fairly important to be aware of what other sound effects are being used in a scene for which you are writing music. Are you kept in­ formed of what sound effects are be­ ing used?

By an intelligent person, yes.

Have you ever had the experience of finding that your music has vanish­ ed under the effects?

That doesn’t worry me, funnily enough. I regard a film as a whole in which the music is only one element.

In fact I like a lot of films that have no music, and I believe would be ruined if they had. As a matter of fact I advised David Baker only a couple of weeks ago not to put music Cinema Papers, July-August — 165

BRUCE SMEATON

in a brilliant film of his called Squeaker’s Mate. I could ha've made myself a few hundred bucks and kept the studios rolling, but it would have ruined the film.

McCarthy there’s one section, dur­ ing the rag-time theme, where the sound I wanted I had to make myself. There was no musical equivalent.

There was a sequence in “The Cars That Ate Paris” that was very ex­ citing because the music was quite different —• in sound and concept — from anything I’d ever heard on the screen. I’m referring to the scene where the first car was lured off the road. Just before the crash there was tremendous tension built up with the sound.

On the other hand, the music that you wrote for “ Seven L ittle Australians” was a deliberate attempt to write in the musical style of the period.

The sound I used there was produced by a new synthesizer called a qaser. It has an enormous advan­ tage'over other synthesizers; you can control the length of a portamento.* In this case, I put a massive logarithmic portamento from the beginning of the sequence to the end and I triggered it so that when it reached the end it let out this howl and fell away.

There were a few other things I did there, though. I used those toy super­ balls on the end of a stick dragged across tympani and piano frames, which also let out a most terrible howl.

Do you experiment a lot to achieve these effects?

Yes, I do. I experiment until I’m satisfied.

I try and think what would I like to hear and, in the same way that I demand an emotional approach from a director, I try to make my first kickoff a totally emotional one. Then I look for the equivalent — how it can be physically produced.

For exam ple, in The Great *A continuous sliding from one note to 'another.

The producer of Seven Little Australians, Charlie Russell, left me with an incredible impression of what he wanted, which was music not untypical of the period, but allowing him all the dramatic content he need­ ed — which to the average listener could have been music from that period.

We eventually used the full Mel­ bourne Symphony Orchestra, but to get dramatic interest I found I used a lot of techniques that are associated with the twentieth century rather than the nineteenth. Although in one sense it was a very straightforward job, in actual fact it was quite a com­ plex one. Even the melody of Seven Little Australians, which is seeming­ ly so simple, was a pig of a thing to orchestrate.

“The Great McCarthy” called for music to run with football scenes.

How did you do that?

Number one, talked the director out of what he wanted.

matter of- fact, the crowd always seemed to be treated en masse unless there was a bit actor emerging from them. Never did you actually get in­ volved with the crowd — which may be a strength or weakness of the film.

The crowd was there, like at the Roman games, and one of my first kickoff points was that amazing divi­ sion between the spectators and the players. So my problem was to get across the excitement of football, but as a stylized ritual.

Eventually I based the music on a South American Indian rhythm — which I then altered. It was im­ mensely difficult to record, but basically it’s a rhythm section with something over the top. I also used a wordless soprano.

You’re currently working on your second film with Peter Weir — “Pic­ nic at Hanging Rock”. The book of “Hanging Rock” has a lot of mysti­ que, a sense of unease: this must have been a very challenging concept for a score.

I should say at the outset that since seeing Picnic at Hanging Rock I regard Peter Weir as a major direc­ tor. I also regard Picnic at Hanging Rock as a major film.

But my contribution to it is minimal. Some films need music.

Picnic has music but didn’t need it.

It was a successful film before effects and music were laid. The music is ic­ ing — attractive, I hope, but icing.

tablishing a theme which has to carry over a successive number of episodes, sometimes up to 26 or even more.

How do you approach scoring for a series?

The big problem with TV series is the lack of money. Imagine you have 26 one-hour episodes and each episode requires ten minutes of music — and that’s being incredibly modest — then there’s 260 minutes of music! So there is an immense budget problem.

This is usually overcome in a number of ways. One is to use library music, in whch case I never get to first base. Another is to write theme music. And then the problems are entirely different — the theme has to have long legs; it’s got to carry the mood of the series; it’s got to attract people’s attention in the same way that a television commercial has to.

It should obviously be melodic but I don’t believe — probably because of my distaste of the sung word — that it should be sung. Aren’t films visual?

From that point on I usually try to pick a few key scenes that desperate­ ly need music and write specifically for these. I then produce a generaliz­ ed library which can be drawn upon as the series progresses. If they need more specialized music they call ex­ tra sessions.

Is this the function of a music editor?

What did he want?

He wanted lots of people singing pie-type songs and banging beer cans together. But I felt that the way the footy things were shot — with a sense of purpose and drama — that it just didn’t require people singing and rattling their cans together. As a

I found it next to impossible to create an original idea.

Working on a TV series must present you with particular dif­ ficulties, because you’ve not only got the problems of each individual episode, but also the problem of es­

Below and right: a music flow sheet — to Bruce Smeaion’s specifications — shows the music, dialogue, effects and action in rela­ tion to frames and electronic metronome clicks for the first car crash in The Cars That Ate Paris.

Bruce Smeaton M.A.G.A 259 (Vic: Div.) a

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166 — Cinema Papers, July-August

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BRUCE SMEATON

One of the functions of a music editor. One of the others of course — at least in the States — is to take full responsibility for the synchronising of the music and all the nitty gritty of briefing the composer and organizing the recording.

Have you got any favorite writers that you particularly like to hear on film? I know you have a great liking for some of the Italians.

I love Nino Rota because of the way he and Fellini work. I also ad­ mire Morricone, Rustichelli and some of the John Barry stuff. A lot of other composers I admire as craftsmen but not as musicians.

Music can date a film very easily.

Do you try to avoid themes that may work to the detriment of the film in the future?

Yes, and I have actually warned some Filmmakers about it. Some care.

When jazz entered — probably via Mancini with Peter Gunn and a few other things — it wakened the greedy producer to the possibility of laying any form of music whatsoever up against film, as long as it is ‘com­ mercial', and then making immense amounts of money by selling it separately. This still dictates the selection of a lot of American film music.

I thought that Malik’s “Badlands” was one of the most exciting films of the last 10 years. Often the music in that — written by George Tipton — was the complete opposite of what you saw on the screen, but it worked extremely well.

This is what Rota does. That’s where the whole adds up to more than the sum of the parts and that’s the whole business of integration.

Obviously the director and composer

have got together and talked about what they’re going to do before a shooting script is even produced.

If you think of 8 Vi, a lot of the music in that, which gave you a most incredible yearning feeling for something you didn’t even know, was in fact vulgar and banal circus music.

ly speaking there is hardly any knowledge whatsoever or very little interest in the recording of film music in Australia.

You indicated in the answer to an erlier question that you found inade­ quacies working in Australia, par­ ticularly in the area of equipment and facilities generally.

Yes, inevitably there must be, because original music for films is quite a new thing. Even someone like Hector Crawford virtually never uses original music, despite his professed great love of music. This could be a budget problem.

In terms of facilities, a lot of studios here grew up and were paid for by doing television and radio commercial soundtracks. So there’s a large emphasis on what the adver­ tising agencies require. I don’t think the standard is anything to be ashamed of, in fact it’s high in some areas — but certainly not as high as it should be.

I also think that the lack of train­ ing for sound engineers is a bit of a pity. I know of no studio that en­ courages study or breadth of outlook via internal or external training programs.

There doesn’t seem to be an apprenticeship system like the United States has. One typical thing in Australia seems to be the lack of providing for the future in areas like this.

In film recording I’d say that most of the knowledge is based on finding out the hard way from TV and radio commercials. But I find that general­

Do you think it’s still necessary in Australia for people who want to score films to travel overseas?

I don’t think there are any oppor­ tunities here, except perhaps at the ABC. I’ve received six bi-monthly newsletters from the Film and Television School and I don’t think the word ‘music’ was even used once.

There was certainly no discussion on the subject. Sound got one mention.

Obviously there are much more important priorities but music is im­ portant to film. I believe there should be something, even if only on the m ech an ics of b u d g etin g and scheduling. Otherwise we’re likely to produce a race of m onsters, descending upon me or my fellow composers.

FILMOGRAPHY (Main Credits from 1972)

FEATURES 1973

Libido (two segments — The Priest and The Fami­ ly Man) The Cars That Ate Paris The Great McCarthy Picnic at Hanging Rock Devil's Playground

1974 1975 1975 1975

TV 1972 19721973 19731974 1974 1975

Drop in the Ocean (feature) 73 Seven Little Australians (series) Castaway (series) 74 Rise and Fall of Wellington Boots (series) Games for Parents and Other Children (feature) Birds of Passage (feature) *Ben Hall (series)

DOCUMENTARIES 1972 1973-74 1973-74 1974 1974 1974 1974

Solstice Dartmouth My Brother Wartovo Zulu Romeo Goodnight Kangaroo Island (award) Spokane Expo Birds. Books and Breeders

Bruce Smeaton M A G A 2§9 (Vic Div.)

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Cinema Papers, July-August — 167

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Filmography

Noel Monkman

Although originally a musician, an abiding in­ terest in natural history led Noel Monkman to ex­ periment with photomicrography — first with a still camera and eventually with films.

Monkman screened some of these films for Fox Movietone News, who bought a newsreel item from him and requested further work.

These first efforts were also viewed by Frank Thring Snr., who had launched the Efftee Film Studios in Melbourne. Thring offered him work as a photographer, but Monkman proposed that he and Thring form a new company, Australian Educational Films, for the production of short natural history films.

In 1931, Monkman went to the Great Barrier Reef for six months to produce five short films: Ocean Oddities, Coral and its Creatures, Strange Sea Shells, Birds of the Barrier, and Secrets of the Sea. The series won popularity with critics and the public. Further shorts followed, among them The Cliffdwellers, Nature’s Little Jokes, and The Winged Empress.

Thereafter, Monkman’s work was varied. He produced, wrote and directed two feature films — Typhoon Treasure (1938) and The Power and the Glory (1941) — and served as an underwater cameraman on several productions, including Lee Robinson’s King of the Coral Sea (1953) and the American film The Sea Around Us. Monkman also made documentaries for the Commonwealth Film Unit — such as Makers of Wine (1948) — and wrote books on natural history and his travels — Escape to Adventure (Sydney, 1956), and Quest o f the Curly-Tailed Horses (Sydney, 1962).

He gained most recognition for his work as a naturalist and underwater photographer, but his two feature films have been undeservedly forgotten.

A staunch and active supporter of government aid to the Australian film industry, Monkman worked with great energy and dedication to launch his two feature productions, even working without pay on Typhoon Treasure. Although his two features were given warm press reception and were moderately successful at the box-office, Monkman became disillusioned after the failure of the Quota Act in New South Wales and the vir­ tual shut-down of feature production during and after World War 2. He then turned to concentrate on his scientific work in northern Queensland.

He was assisted in all his work by his wife, Kit­ ty (credited in Typhoon Treasure by her maiden name, Kitty Gelhor). Since Monkman’s death in 1969, she has been preparing a biographical study of his career.

TYPHOON TREASURE

THE POWER AND THE GLORY

(193S, sepia, 89 minutes) Production company: Commonwealth Film Productons. Directed by Noel Monkman. Screenplay by Noel Monkman and John P. Macleod.

Photography by George Malcolm. Underwater photography by Bruce A. Cummings. Art director: Harry Whiting. Production manager: R. P. Wilkinson. Continuity: Kitty Gelhor. Music: Tchaikovsky’s “ Swan Lake". Distributed in Australia by United Artists.

Cast: Campbell Copelin ................ .............................. Alan Richards Gwen Munro .........................................................Jean Roberts Joe Valli .............................................................Scotty Macleod Douglas Herald ............................................... Buck Thompson Kenneth Bram pton................................................. Alfred Webb Norman French ................................................... Patrol Officer U ta n ........................................................................................Utan Marshall Crosby Moncrieff McCallum Ossie Wenban Douglas Channell Benjamin Brown Premiere: St James Theatre, Brisbane, September, 1938.

Dedicated to that force as ‘elemental’ as the typhoon, The Spirit of Adventure, Noel Monkman’s first feature, was a very active schoolboy yarn told with a minimum of dialogue and a maximum of novelty and action.

The story follows the adventures of Alan Richards, the sole survivor of a pearling lugger wrecked on Pakema Reef during a typhoon.

Richards sets out to retrieve the pearls, taking a treacherous overland route through dense jungle, which is the haunt of headhunters.

Most of the film was shot on locations in coastal Queensland, although the story was nominally set in New Guinea. Since Monkman was known for his nature studies, scenes of wild life were woven into the story, with the hero disturbing a huge flock of birds or fighting savage crocodiles. .

Romantic relief was provided by Gwen Munro, an Australian actress who had won attention for her role in Ken Hall’s Orphan of the Wilderness (1936). Campbell Copelin, who played the hero, was an ac­ complished actor usually seen on both stage and screen in the role of a suave ‘lounge lizard’.

In the early !950’s, rights to the film were bought bv George Malcolm, who had photographed the film, and it was re-released in a substantially shortened version under the title The Perils of Pakema Reef.

(1941, b&w, 93 minutes) Production company: Argosy Films. Directed by Noel Monkman.

Screenplay by Noel Monkman and Harry Lauder Jr. Based on a story

by Noel Monkm an. Photography by A rthur Higgins. Aerial photography by George Malcolm and Bert Nicholas. Edited by Frank Coffey. Art directors: Laurence Johnson and W. Baker. Special effects

by W. Goodridge. General manager: Frederick Daniell. Distributed in Australia by MGM. Cast: Katrin Roselle . . . Elsa Marnelle Eric Bush . . . Ted Jackson ' Lou Vernon . . . Professor Marnelle Eric Reiman . . . Van Schweig Peter Finch . . . Frank Miller Sidney Wheeler . . . His Excellency Charles Kilburn . . . John Burton Joe Valli . . . Mack John Fernside . . . Dr Vass Max Osbiston . . . Flight Leader Beatrice Wenban . . . Freda Harry Abdy . . . Fritz Grubler Horrie Cleary . . . Wong Raymond Longford . . . Nazi Admiral Premiere: Mayfair Theatre, Sydney, April, 1941. .

This adventure yarn was intended as an attack on fifth columnist ac­ tivities in Australia. An introductory title declared: “ Out from the mists of man’s early beginnings springs the brutal in­ stinct to kill and destroy. So today, if civilised man would survive, he must groan under the burden of armaments to protect himself from the primitive beast, who even yet would deluge the world in blood.”

The story follows the persecution of a peace-loving scientist who es­ capes from Czechoslovakia to Australia, bringing with him a valuable formula for a new motor fuel.

The Nazis in the film are stock caricatures of evil: leering, paranoid and vicious. More sinister still are the Australian fifth columnists who, to all appearances, are normal Australians, watching a military parade in Martin Place or being ‘one of the boys’ in the RAAF. The film’s highlight is the climatic aerial sequence, with a spectacular dogfight, staged for the film by the RAAF. Also of special in­ terest is the acting of Peter Finch, his first major role in an Australian film. The veteran Australian director of The Sentimental Bloke, Ray­ mond Longford, can be identified in an early scene as a Nazi admiral.

Above left: The Nazi high command in Noel Monkman's The Power and the Glory. Sydney Wheeler (centre).

Raymond Longford (far right) as an extra.

Above right: Noel Monkman on the set of The Power and the Glory.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 169

ASSOCIATION FOR A NATIONAL FILM AND TELEVISION ARCHIVE This column is the first to appear in Cinema Papers concerning the activities

'

of the recently-formed Association for a National Film and Television Archive.

Earlier detail of the Association’s . progress can be found in a letter publish­ ed in the March/April issue of this year, but since that time a steering committee has been formed and has held four meetings — three in Sydney, one in Melbourne. All meetings so far have dealt with the Association’s draft prin­ ciples and long-term plans.

At the recent Sydney and Melbourne Film Festivals, the Association issued a leaflet stressing the need fo r an autonomous and conveniently-located film and television archive in Australia. It was the first public move made by the Association, and was well responded to, with a large number of people requesting further information and submitting $10 each as foundation sponsorship.

Receipts are now being sent out, and the sponsorship has helped cover the printing cost of the ‘Films in Peril’ sheet as w e ll as the p rin tin g o f th e Association’s Principles and a suggested archive ‘Growth Plan’.

It was felt that the Association was ex­ posed to the danger of criticizing production and archive concerns for the work they haven’t been doing to date, rather than trying to develop a constructivè relationship. The need to circularize industrial and political links was also regarded as crucial, and to this end the Association intends to circularize a questionnaire to organizations that might have an interest or involvement in the preservation of film and television material.

The president of the Association’s steering committee is Barrie King, who has long advocated the setting up of an autonomous film archive. He Is being assisted by vice-president Ross Cooper, a Melbourne historian; chairman and secretary Graham Shirley, a freelance director and researcher; with Ian Griggs as treasurer and membership secretary.

The Committee will serve in this manner until the Association adopts a con­ stitution.

The Association hopes to take an in­ creasingly active part in pressing for a national film and television archive, and might even influence the preservation of the TV series Rush, which 'the festival leaflet says has been marked for destruction by the ABC. For enquiries about the Association’s activities, write to: The Secretary Association for a National Film and TV Archive P.O. Box 137 Gordon, N.S.W. 2072.

THE AUSTRALIAN CINEMATOGRAPHERS’ SOCIETY The annual presentation of the Milli Award has become the Australian Cinematographers’ Society’s highest recognition for the most outstanding professional skill displayed in film production.

In addition to the Milli Award, there are also the Golden Tripod and Merit Awards for entries in various categories.

The presentation of awards in May, at the University Theatre of the Macquarie University, attracted more than 200 peo­ , pie from the film industry.

170 — Cinema Papers, July-August

The screening of the films began at 6 p.m. and ended around 9.30 p.m., dur­ ing which tim e the awards were presented.

Bert Nicholas ACS, who made the presentations, was given a standing ovation. He was retiring from the industry and the occasion was a fitting climax to a man whose life and efforts have been so closely associated with the pioneering of the film industry in Australia.

Compere Stuart Wagstaff’s light­ hearted and witty praise of those in the industry portrayed the congenial and sincere relationships evident in the in­ dustry in Australia.

In- congratulating the winner of the Milli Award, Russell Boyd, we also con­ gratulate winners of the Golden Tripod Award, the Merit Award and all those who participated.

ACS Sydney must be commended for organizing this year’s Milli Award presen­ tations. The standard was high, even higher than that of the previous year.

Thanks, too, for the hospitality extend­ ed to the Victorian president, Mr Vic John, by Mr Bruce Hillyard and the com­ mittee of the federal body in Sydney.

Mr John said it was interesting to note that most entries were documentaries, followed by feature productions.

The presentation of the Milli Award to Russell Boyd was in recognition of his work on Between Wars. The outstanding camera techniques and superb lighting effects rank it alongside such films as Alvin Rides Again, Petersen, Scobie Malone, The Sidecar Racers and The Removalists.

Australian box-office successes prove that the application of professional skill, linked with modern technology, make the film industry here a major contributor to world film markets, and proves the skill of ACS members in film production.

THE AUSTRALIAN COUNCIL FOR CHILDREN’S FILMS AND TELEVISION The Australian Council, for Children's Films and Television evolved In 1958 from the express request of State Coun­ cils for a national body to co-ordinate the activities of those Interested in the children’s cinema movement Since then, under the guiding Influence of Its president, Mr W. H. Perkins, (recently retired) the Council has grown from an organization whose principle con­ cern was to encourage screenings of suitable films for children, to one which Is actively Involved in the purchase, promotion and distribution of e n te rta in m e n tt film s fo r c h ild re n throughout Australia.

Since its inception, the Council has been closely linked with the Children's Film Foundation In Britain.

It was not long ago that no one con­ sidered there was a need for films specifically designed for children.

Parents and teachers alike were con­ tent with the mediocrity and ‘safeness’ of films, so long as they were rated ‘Suitable for General Exhibition’.

It took the inspiration and determina­ tion of the late Mary Field to persuade Lord Rank to set up the Children’s Enter­ tainment Film Division of the Rank Organisation which, in 1951, became the C h ild re n ’s Film Foundation. This organization is entirely run and sup­ ported by the British Film Industry without government assistance.

The simple theory behind this extraor­ dinary success story is the fact that people, even very little people, respond to quality. And quality Is the hallmark of

-

the CFF product.

The lists of credits include many of the ‘greats’ among the filmmakers — names like Hugh Stewart, Michael Powell, Emerlc Pressburger. Children play the principal roles, but supporting adults in­ clude such artists as Jimmy Edwards, Wilfred Bramble, Judy Cornwell and Patricia Hayes.

Many young actors and aspiring direc­ tors find invaluable experience working on films produced by the CFF. It Is this combination of high professional stan­ dards and constant re-assessment of children’s needs and interests, together with a continuity of production, that p ro d u ce s an end p ro d u c t s p e lt

E NT E R T AI NME NT .

With financial assistance from the Film and Television Board of the Australia Council, the ACCFT is now the principal distributor of the CFF In Australia.

Twenty-four features and an equal number of shorts are distributed with the co-operation of the independent cinema owners and the big chain exhibitors, with the pleasing result that more and more Australian children are ‘going to the pic­ tures’.

At a time when cinemas are fighting for survival and the novelty of color televi­ sion Is already making Its mark, good cinema habits need to be encouraged and supported.

A great deal of money Is being poured into the re-establlshm ent of the Australian film industry. In Britain, more than 60 per cent of the films being produced today are for children. Those in authority and those educators of our future filmmakers may well be advised to lo o k to the C h ild r e n ’s C inem a Movement.

This Council believes that herein lies the audience of tomorrow, and we con­ tinue to plead that for children, only the best is good enough.

THE AUSTRALIAN FILM COUNCIL Now that Australia has become the se­ cond largest buyer of American films (Italy is first), It is important to know what it means to the local industry.

Consider the statements of Mr Jack Valenti (or should that read ‘reconsider’ because I am sure most of us are aware of Mr Valenti’s presence around us?) as president of the Motion Picture Export Association of America, and as president of the Motion Picture Association.

Mr Valenti has made no secret of the fact that a major part of his task is to protect the commercial interests and enhance the prospects of American films in the international market, and is on record as saying: “We are engaged every day In fighting back foreign government attempts to strangle, smother, disfigure, alter and involve itself in our business abroad.” ; “A loss of only 10 to 15 per cent of the overseas market would cue an in­ dustry and Hollywood disaster.” ; and “We arexconstantly under attack lately by a foreign government from which we derive 50 to 51 per cent of all our income.”

These quotes leave no doubt that Mr Valenti and the American film producers see indigenous film production in­ dustries as the enemy.

In Australia as elsewhere, Mr Valenti can achieve his objectives by striving to hold the situation where open entry, the control of distribution and exhibition out­ le ts , and th e e x is tin g m a rk e t

arrangements allow American films to block off local competition at a token level.

American film companies operate in Australia through the Motion Picture Distributors’ Association. Their domina­ tion of and influence on film distribution and exhibition in Australia is detailed in the Tariff Board report.

I hope the new Media Minister, Dr Moss Cass, and the new Media Depart­ ment head, Mr Spigelman, have read it.

THE AUSTRALIAN WRITERS’ GUILD It has always angered me to see stu d e n ts ju m p in g up and down protesting about the state of the nation or, seemingly, anything else for that matter — without the tiniest clue on how to solve the problem or, perhaps worse, without having even an alternative method of handling the situation.

So it is with me with grants. Not that I am like a student or that I am jumping up and down, but while I feel that too many grants are being made to too many people, I am not sure whether anything can be done about it.

However, I think the various govern­ ment bodies, at this particular stage of the industry’s growth, would be better served if they forgot about the word ‘ex­ perimental’ when assessing applications for funding.

It seems that simple storytelling has lost its appeal; that a kinky, plotless, formless submission will somehow be favored over a standard, sequential, well-rounded synopsis with a beginning, a middle and an end.

By all means let us look for originality, freshness and creativity, as long as it is a disciplined form.

Free thought must be kept within bounds. It is one of the most important lessons the young radical has to learn If he is to be truly creative.

Any country, to be creative and productive, must have its freedom dis­ ciplined. It is only out of that discipline that true freedom can spring.

Indeed, allow a child to have complete freedom and it destroys itself and everyone around it.

In writing, as In any creative process, we must know the rules before we can break them with success.

All I ask, perhaps, is that the goodly government bodies be aware of the fact. Is there, after all, any point in granting applicants the money to run, before they can walk?

Peter Scott, President

FILM EDITOR’S GUILD OF AUSTRALIA The committee of the Film Editors’ Guild of Australia not only organizes monthly meetings for its members and the annual editing workshops for trainee editors, it also represents the members on the board of the Australian Film Coun­ cil. This is an important part of FEGA’s operation as the Film Council gives the film industry a collective voice in some important areas. A representative of FEGA also attends meetings of the Australian Standards Association.

Our April general meeting was held at Atlab film laboratory in Sydney. This was a tour of the facility, and senior members of the Atlab staff were on hand for dis­ cussion. We felt it was an opportunity for our members to keep up with the latest

COLUMNS

innovations in laboratory work, and aiso to be able to discuss openly both editors’ problems with the labs and the lab’s problems with editors.

The May general meeting was a screening of two Australian-made historical stories. The first was one of the episodes of Luke’s Kingdom, the joint Channel 9-Trident TV series. The editor of the episode, Richard Hindley, answered questions after the screening.

The other film was a dramatized d o c u m e n ta ry a b o u t th e P rim e Ministership of Billy Hughes during World War 1. This was made by the ABC and won an Impressive list of awards.

We have regular screenings of films which we think hold Interest for our members. We are always pleased to hear from anybody who has a film which might interest our members at one of our screenings.

TH E F I L M P R O D U C T I O N ASSOCIATION OF AUSTRALIA Our Association’s recent activities have, by necessity, been centered on the survival of our film and television production industry. We were actively in­ volved during and after the passage of the Film Commission Bill, and will be m ost v ita lly concerned w ith the forthcoming Performers’ Protection Act. Our copyright and ownership in a film package we produce must be protected, just as much as the rights of an actor or writer, otherwise we will not be able to attract financial investment in production to employ them.

Several producers attended the recent MIP-TV market in Cannes prior to this year’s Film Festival. It was pleasing to see how well our local TV programs com­ pared with the European, British and American average budget production (excluding naturally, high budget programs such as Upstairs Downstairs and The Six Million Dollar Man. Sales were made to the fringe markets, but very few significant sales have yet been achieved with the more lucrative British and American markets.

At the conclusion of the TV market, The Film Production Association of Australia, on behalf of the Australian producers sent the following cable to the then Minister for the Media, Senator Douglas McClelland: ‘‘The Association is now more than ever firmly of the opinion that it is necessary for a reciprocal arrangement to be entered into with Britain and the U.S., whereby they purchase from Australia the same number of hours of program material as they-export to Australia. _ ‘‘It should be pointed out that the only English-speaking countries that have any meaningful economic value to our Australian industry are Britain and the U.S. These countries who find Australia so profitable for program sales must be made to realise that the ‘one way street’ is not giving Australia a fair go.

“We protect ail other industries from exports from these countries, and while at the moment we are not advocating tariffs, without an incentive such as we have recommended, our experience here at MIP-TV has shown that few if any Australian programs will be sold to these vital markets.”

With the increasing costs of local TV productions and the imminent cost of residual payments to artists, coupled with the claimed lack,of finance from television stations and networks, our sur­ vival depends on sales to the prime inter­ national markets of the U.S. and Britain.

Employment within our local film and television production industry is now at its lowest ebb. The current economic downturn has slowed up the production of local TV commercials. The lack of finance of networks and television stations has curtailed some long-running TV series, and the uncertain result of profits of Australian feature films has slowed up the 1974 rash of feature film production.

However, all is not lost. Australian documentary producers found a very receptive market in Cannes this year and on the home front Film Australia and the ABC are both busy with production, the

latter because of its involvement with co­ production, where overseas sales are en­ sured by the co-producing partner.

The industry’s survival, therefore, rests not just with massive injections of government funds, but also with protec­ tion, as outlined previously, for both television and cinema production, where the right to our own lucrative market must be bartered for by sales of Australian-produced product overseas.

THE NATIONAL LIBRARY In April, the National Library Council approved in principle the development of the National Film Collection’s fiim study resources to meet the demands of students undertaking such courses throughout Australia.

Over the next three to four years, it is proposed to purchase some 1200 titles from all periods and genres, bringing the National Film Collection’s total resources to support film study to over 2000 titles.

This development will follow the policy set out in a submission sent by the Film, Radio and Television Board of the Australia Council to the National Library in March this year.

Preliminary work has begun on the ex­ pansion of the collection, especially in the areas of A u s tra lia n cinem a, documentaries and the avant-garde films.

Arrangements have been made for all 17 of Ken G. Hall’s productions to be made available for study. This group in­ cludes the films Hall made at Cinesound in the 1930s as well as Smithy, which he made for Columbia in 1946.

In addition, there are four titles by Charles Chauvel: In the Wake of the Bounty with Errol Flynn, Heritage, Un­ civilised and The Rats of Tobruk with Peter Finch and Chips Rafferty.

Among other recent acquisitions are five cinéma vérité films by the DrewLeacock team, including Jane and Nehru. Titles by Emile de Antonio and Frederick Wiseman are expected shortly.

A large number of recent American experimental films is also being received for circulation through the film study collection. These include films by Bruce Connor (including Cosmic Ray and Marilyn Times Five), Ed Emshwiller (Relativity), Robert Nelson (Bleu Shut and On Dem Watermelons), and Gunvor Nelson (Take Off and Schmeerguntz).

PROFESSIONAL MUSICIANS’ UNION OF AUSTRALIA Submissions to the newly-formed Australian Film Commission made recently by the Professional Musicians' Union of Australia: The Union’s submission to the Com­ mission was that all background music used for films made by the Commission or made from funds allocated by them should consist of Australian-composed, a rra n g e d and re c o rd e d m usic.

Reference was made to the bad situation under which the Union operates at the moment, that is there is no performers’ protection legislation in existence in this country up to this time; but it was hoped that this would come into being very shortly.

As the Film Commission will no doubt be allocating monies for films to be used on television and possible series produc­ tions, the Union indicated that it would look at any proposal whereby the producer wanted to purchase the sole rights of the musicians’ work for an ad­ ditional fee.

As indicated in the press, the PMUA, in conjunction with three other television in­ dustry trade unions, banded together to fight for greater Australian content on commercial television stations. This campaign was headed under a docu­ ment known as “The Crisis in the Televi­ sion Industry” , which has also been sub­ mitted to the Australian Film Commission for consideration.

The unions also want each station to increase its specific Australian content each week to four hours of drama, three hours of variety, six hours of news and current affairs, and one hour of documentary.

Each station should telecast at least one hour of ‘approved’ children’s drama and four hours of ‘other approved’ children’s programs each week.

The document stated that, In order to offset the enormous price advantages enjoyed by overseas programs in the Australian market ($5,000 for imports, $35,000 for Australian drama), some degree of support was necessary.

An Australian television service was a n at i onal i nt er es t , d e s e rv i n g of assistance.

In the document the unions called for an $8 million injection into the television industry to cover the additional cost of the Australian content quotas.

The economy of television was currently so strained that the quotas, es­ - sential to protect employment and Australian television, would place an in­ tolerable burden on the system unless some assistance were forthcoming.

The Unions have called for a fund of $1.25 million to “ improve the standards and quality of Australian production” and a fund of $750,000 for investment in pilot programs “ to create a diversity of program types and producers” . The total financial assistance called for was $10 million.

SYDNEY FILMMAKERS’ CO-OPERATIVE LTD. Since its inception, our organization has been concerned with providing alter­ native services for filmmakers in dis­ tribution, exhibition and filmmaking resources. Our first concern was to provide a distribution service for film­ makers who could not obtain such a ser­ vice f r om e xi st in g c o mm e r c i a l enterprises. Since the formation of our association, filmmakers in other States have recognized similar needs, and we are now a part of a national network of filmmakers’ co-operatives.

The recent 3rd National Conference of Filmmakers' Co-operatives decided to co-operate more closely, particularly in the area of distribution. As a result of this decision we have just produced the first national catalogue for the states of NSW, Victoria, Queensland, South Australia, Tasmania and Western Australia.

It lists 600 films made by independent filmmakers, and contains many new titles not previously listed in any publication. It is a comprehensive production contain­ ing 200 stills from the films and several complementary indexes. The indexes are by film title, name of filmmaker and subject. There are 27 categories in the subject index which should help in selecting films with a particular theme.

Access to fi l ms for interstate borrowers has been simplified in several

ways. First, the National Catalogue links all existing Co-op film collections.

Secondly, a new service and handling charge incorporates freight bills which were previously the hirer’s responsibility.

The 15 per cent surcharge on the ren­ tal value of films covers freight within Australia. This will make it easier for other states to book films from the two main Co-op libraries in Sydney and Melbourne. Thirdly, each Co-op will act as an agent for any other Co-op, by booking specific films and answering in­ quiries about films held in other State libraries.

Since only Sydney and Melbourne Co­ ops have operating budgets for distribution, the Co-ops in Brisbane, Hobart, Adelaide and Perth will work for a trial period on voluntary labor until more funds become available.

The screening of films has always been important, although it was not until increased support from the Australian Government became available that we were able to operate a cinema. We have now been screening films for two years in the Filmmakers’ Cinema in St Peter’s Lane, Darlinghurst.

Our programming policy has varied during this period. and we are now following a modified, cinematheque for­ mat. This involves changing our program completely each week, and also offering a wide variety of films.

Our main promotion emphasis is for independent Australian films, but we also do children’s matinee shows at 2 p.m. on Saturday and Sunday. There are also shows at 5 p.m. and 11 p.m. on these days during special interest seasons. We recognize the need for increased ex­ posure for new Australian films and are planning to do longer runs than one week in the prime 8 p.m. sessions. We are also looking for new material, and welcome any suggestions for programs in the future.

We have recently begun organizing resource facilities for filmmakers, and in­ formation for those interested in learning more about filmmaking. We are In the process of compiling a resource book so our staff can handle any queries.

We hope to participate in the Film, Radio and Television Board’s proposals fo r equip m ent pools and workshop/learning exchanges for new and experienced filmmakers.

With nearly 300 full members, the Co­ op is able to serve and represent a large body of filmmakers. In addition, we offer a ssoci at e m e m b e r s h i p to n o n ­ filmmakers who are interested in our organization, particularly our screenings program. This group exceeded 700 In thei first 12 months of operation. We look forward to a continued level of support from the film community.

WANTED

FILM MAGAZ'NES AND BOOKS c m t,.

ANY SORT

WRITE TO THE LIBRARIAN, CINEMA PAPERS, 143 THERRY STREET, MELBOURNE 3000

Cinema Papers, July-August — 171

Left: Every Man For Himself and God Against All. Below: Vase de Noces (The Wedding Trough).

OFFICIAL GUESTS: Louis Malle (France) Shuji Terayama (Japan) Thierry Zeno (Belgium) Dominique Gamy (Belgium)

ENTRIES (some unconfirmed at publication date)

Above: Good And Evil.

Right: Pure SHit.

Black Moon (Louis Malle, France); Every Man For Himself and God Against All (Werner Herzog, Germany); A Woman Under the Influence (John Cassavetes, U.S.A.); Mutter Kuster, Faustrecht der Freiheit (Rainer Werner Fassbinder, Germany); F for Fake (Orson Welles); Véronique ou Lete Mes 13 Ans (Caudine Gullman, France); Lancelot du Lac (Robert Bresson, France); Touch of Zen (King Hu, Hong Kong); Moses and Aaron (Jean Marie Straub, Germany); O Thiassos (Theodore Angelopoulos, Greece); Chac (Rolando Klein, Panama); Hearts and Minds (Bert Schroeder, U.S.A.); Sunday Too Far Away (Ken Hannam, Australia); Pastoral Hide and Seek (Shuji Terayama, Japan); Good and Evil (Jorgen Letts, Denmark); Gina (Denys Arcand, Canada); Konfrontation (Rolf Lyssy, Switzerland); Souvenirs d’en France (Andre Techlne, France); Marjoe (Howard Smith, Sara, Kernochan, U.S.A.); Abachurina Post Office (N. Lakshminaryan, India); Mes Petites Amoureuses (Jean Eustache, France); Vase de Noces (Thierry Zeno, Belgium); Idaho Transfer (Peter Fonda, U.S.A.); Pure Shit (Bert Deling, Australia); Bruno The Black (Lutz Elsholz, Germany); Lacombe Lucien (Louis Malle, France); Walkabout Bilong Tonten (Olivier Howes, Australia); India Song (Stéphane Tchalgadjieff, India); A Bigger Splash (Jack Hazan, U.K.); Malatesta (Volker Scharndorf); Les Tours Gris (Iradj Azlmi, France); The Occasional Work of A Female Slave, Artists at the Top of the Big Top: Disorientated, Yesterday Girl, The Middle of the Read Is A Very Dead End (Alexander Kluge, Germany); The Intrigues of Sylvia Couski (Adolfo Arrleta, France) and more . . .

Innaloo Cinema, PERTH August 8-21

International Women’s Film Festival In Sydney and Melbourne more than fifteen feature films will be screened along with numerous documentaries, shorts and animated films. The other States will offer selections from the main pr ogr am. ; y . . y - '■ ■,

Venue Sydney Capitol Theatre $16.00 ($8.00 Vi subs.)

■

Melbourne Palais Theatre $16.00 (no Vi subs.) : ' Hobart State Theatre

Date

Contact Address

Aug. 9-17

PO Box 245 Broadway 2007 P h .6607108

Aug. 21-30

66 Carlton St Carlton 3053 P h .3472146

Sept. 5-7

239 Harrington St Hobart 7000 Ph. 302435 (a.h.)

Subs $8.00 Adelaide Cinema Europa Subs $8.00

, Sept. 12-14 ’ .

Perth Octagon Subs $8.00

Sept. 20-23

Canberra Coombs Lecture Theatre Sept. 26,27, 28 Subs $8.00 , Brisbane Paddington Theatre

Oct. 3-5

.

.

S.A. Media Resource Centre Union St Adelaide 5000 P h .2231600

.

. c/o Guild of Undergraduates University of W.A. Crawley 6009 P.O. Box 5 Ainslie ACT 2602 P h .485150 ,

;

Video Centre Coronation House 109 Edward St Brisbane 4000 P h .210987

Features

The first Australia-wide, International Women’s Film Festival consisting entirely of films directed by women. Sponsored by Inter­ national Women’s Year and the Film Radio and Television Board.

India Song, Marguerite Duras (France 1975); Cool World, Shirley Clark (USA 1969); Lions Love, Agnes Varda (France/USA 1969); The Cheaters, McDonagh sisters (Australia); Promised Lands, Susan Sontag (1974); A Very Curious Girl (Bloody Mary), Nelly Kaplan (France 1969); Love Under the Crucifix, Kinuyo Loneliness (Olivia), Jacqueline Hendry (France 1957); Dance Girl Dance; Dorothy Arzner (USA 1940); The Girls, Mai Zetterllng (Sweden 1968); Duet for Cannibals, Susan Sontag (Sweden 1969); Christopher Strong, Dorothy Arzner (USA 1940); Binding Sentiments, Marta Mezsaros (Hungary 1965); The Blue Light, Leni Riefenstahl (Germany 1932); Maedchen in Uniform, Leontine Sagan (Germany 1931); Lady from Constantinople, Judlt Elek (Hungary 1969); Love and Anarchy,

Lina Wertmuller Haly (unconfirmed).

Documentaries

The Passionate Industry, Joan Long (Australia 1970); Antonia, Portrait of a Woman, Coiiins & Godmllon (USA 1974); Behind the Veil, Eve Arnold (USA 1971); Women of the Rhondda, London Women’s Film Group; Stirring, Jane Oehr

(Australia 1974)

Im age and Influence: Studies in the Sociology of Film

by Andrew Tudor: Allan & Unwin 1975.

Recommended price: $18.90 Mick Counihan Not the least of the merits of this volume is its accessibility to non-specialist audiences. Image and Influence is both level­ headed and relatively free of extravagant typologies and sociological jargon. As Tudor constantly stresses, his aim is less to provide some grand synthetic theory — a hopeless task given the meagre and misconceived empirical work on which such a theory would have to be based — than to draw attention both to areas in which work needs to be done, and to some general models and guiding images which might profitably in­ form such detailed studies.

Some may see Tudor’s reiteration of the tentative and provisional nature of his enquiry as excessive humility, a mere authorial conceit; on the contrary, by resisting the temptation to indulge in flights of theoretical fancy, the author ensures that sociological hypotheses about the relationship between cinema and society remain in intimate contact with human reality.

To summarize the wide range of problems and materials surveyed in this book is impossible here, but mention should be made of the overall logic of the exposition. The book falls into two parts; firstly, after, a chapter on general models of the communication process, Tudor examines film communicators and film audiences, which together constitute the cinema as a (sub)society, with its own culture and social structure.

The second part raises questions, at a macrosociological level, about the interaction of this film world with the culture and social structure of the over-arching society. Successive chapters explore film movements, including a case study on German Expressionism, and popular film genres in which the Western, gangster movie and horror film are singled out for special attention.

Bridging the two parts is a chapter on film language for Tudor, quite correctly, sees the problem of meaning as central to any investigation of a cultural domain such as the cinema.

Obviously this summary gives the impression of a schematicism which Tudor opposes and successfully avoids. In fact the book, while inevitably uneven, contains a wealth of arguments and examples and draws freely on a diverse array of sociological and film studies.

A polemical strain runs through the book, and justifiably so.

Tudor is concerned to combat any sociology which reduces the complexity of the problems involved, whether by asserting simple cause-effect, or reflection, or one-to-one relations between films and society, or by ignoring the richness and sub­ tleties of film meanings. In particular the debilitating ‘mass society’ theories, which hold that film producers are omnipo­ tent manipulators, and audiences are passive ‘cultural dopes’, are subjected to a definitive refutation. Tudor emphasizes ‘interaction’ is the antidote to such unilateral theses.

However, on the question of the relationship between sociological approaches and actual film criticism, the book is less satisfactory. Would an adequate sociology complement or replace criticism? Generally Tudor stresses the former, for both sociology and criticism are seen as forms of disciplined subjectivity with different aims, but occasionally there are hints of the latter: “Critical acumen is still essential and will remain so until (emphasis added) we have a complete working knowledge of film language” . Even if this complete knowledge is an unlikely eventuality, the formulation contains unfor­ tunate echoes of the scientism Tudor has so capably attempted to exorcise.

Rather than attempting either to describe the book in detail, or to cruise through its pages doling out a plus here or a minus there, I will restrict the rest of this review to two questions: What is the conception of ‘theory’ operative in Image and Influence? And what are some of the implications of this?

What does the ‘sociology’ in the sub-title mean? For sociology is hardly a unitary, self-evident field. Tudor, after lamenting the dismal past, “the unthinking empiricism and cultural prejudice” of media research, comments: “ I wish I could claim to transcend these difficulties. But I cannot . . . it is a continual struggle to even avoid the same old traps . . . (however). In what follows I have tried to add my own small push away from the scientism and objectivism which has so often characterised media research.” In this case, not an anti­ empiricist reconceptualization, but a rather more thoughtful empiricism.

Tudor remains totally within the problematic which produc­ ed the work he deplores, despite the equivocations and apologetics with which he prefaces every substantive statement (‘this is a sketch of a sketch’ or ‘this is purely a preliminary, provisional framework’, etc. etc.).

By problematic, here I mean an empiricist conception of knowledge. Crudely, this involves writing discrete facts on bodies of information into models or simplified pictures through a process of abstraction, then confronting the model with further data (reality), revising it progressively, until “when most of the gaps have been filled in, he (the sociologist) might have something approaching an acceptable theory” .

Thus ‘theory’ is after the event, is an ultimate goal dependent on, and distinct from, the process of abstracting (non­ theoretical) facts into (non-theoretical) models. This, then, is a ‘theory’ (what else could it be?) whose specificity, in part, lies in the denial of itself as such.

The empiricist problematic, having banished ‘theory’ elsewhere, can now annex bits and pieces of other, incom­ patible, theories. But only on the condition that these are fragmented, defused, purged of, their ‘extremism’. Hence Tudor’s eclecticism. Here, Parsons, Smelsar, Etzioni: there, a little Marxism (non-vulgar variety) and some sensible struc­ turalism.

In Chapter 1 Berger and Luckman’s ‘Social Construction oj Reality’ is dismissed as no real advance. In the conclusion it is invoked as “especially relevant” . At one stage Pretz is cited at length. Then Tudor remarks that ‘formal’ techniques are uni­ que to film and can be analyzed “in terms akin to ‘grammar’, i.e. as a set of rules independent of semantic questions” , which is precisely the point Pretz has been arguing against in the arti­ cle used a couple of pages earlier. And so on.

Because theoretical questions are treated as some sort of im­ possible dream or optional extra, Tudor feels no obligation to debate alternatives or clarify issues at this level. Instead he rails at considerable length against ‘mass society’ notions, which if they haven’t been discredited by now, never will be.

Of the numerous other points that could be raised, I am restricted to one. Any attempt to relate cinema (and/or film?) and society, is obviously doomed unless the native of the society(ies) within which this cinema exists is specified. Tudor goes as far as an orthodox sociological culture/social structure distinction. But no further.

50 Superstars by John Kobal: Spectacular! The Story of Epic Films

by John Cary; and War Movies by Tom Perlmutter: Hamlyn.

Recommended price: $9.95 each Bill Collins I was recently asked by a student to recommend some worthwhile film magazines. She knew all about Sight and Sound and the intellectual film magazines. She wanted something else. So I recommended a popular British magazine which has good articles and is always well illustrated. A few weeks later, she told me that she had bought a copy of the magazine but was disappointed because it was “nearly all pic­ tures” .

What are films anyway? Surely one wants stimulation in pictures as much as in words. Films may be recalled by stills, even if the stills do not add up to an experience commensurate with seeing the films themselves.

This brings me to what I particularly like about the Hamlyn books — the pictures are worth as much as the texts. And the texts are as enjoyable to read as the pictures — black and white, color and huge gate-folds — can be gazed upon in awe.

Spectacular! The Story o f Epic Films was written by John Cary and edited by the ubiquitous John Kobal, whose ap­ parently inexhaustible supply of film memorabilia has provid­ ed this massive volume with illustrations to complement the subject matter. One of the special pleasures of this book, and so many of the Hamlyn film books, is the large number of pic­ tures in color.

Spectacles and spectaculars are often treated with contempt by connoisseurs, save a few instances, eg: Anthony Mann’s El Cid. I can remember, as an enthusiastic film buff in his teens, almost feeling guilty and lacking in taste because I loved beyond reason Mervyn Le Roy’s Quo Vadis. I have seen it many times since its early 1950’s release — when it was known as MGM’s ‘colossal’ Quo Vadis, and everything became

‘colossal’ overnight — and maturity, more or less, has enhanc­ ed rather than dimmed my ardour for this glorious example of MGMagnificence.

Surely any film addict, anyone seriously interested in film­ making must find something enthralling about the big pic­ tures. The sheer mechanics involved in manufacturing a spec­ tacle are sufficient to make their study fascinating.

This Hamlyn book should have an instant appeal. The text

by John Cary is reliable and informative, even if his critical judgment could arouse argument from those who find a favorite film given short shrift. I must admit he is pretty spoton about Richard Thorpe’s The Prodigal, although I think it is one of the greatest bad films ever made, monumental in its vulgarity, its idiocy and its Biblical nonsense.

One of the best sections in Spectacular! is an interview with director Robert Wise, whose newest project, The Hindenburg, is being cut and shaped for release. He comments about the making of Helen of Troy, one of the superior films in the genre, in spite of some miscasting, with a justification for do­ ing it neatly phrased: “ . . . maybe it was about time I found out about CinemaScope and . . . I was curious about my ability to bring off an epic. That’s what got me into it” .

The stills are well-chosen to illustrate Cary’s various chapters. I think his treatment of Gone With the Wind, among others, is a little brief to be adequate, but the film has been ex­ haustively discussed in other books, most intriguingly by Gavin Lambert in his book about the making of the film.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 173

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BOOKS

To pick faults with Spectacular! is to quibble about minor lapses in a volume which in pictorial brilliance, entertainment value and comprehensiveness is worth its nearly $10 cost.

What more can you expect of a book that gives you a gate-fold still from Ben Hur which is more than a metre wide?

50 Super Stars was compiled by John Kobal and bears an introduction by John Russell Taylor. When I say it is a disap­ pointing book, I do not intend that it be dismissed. It is worth every cent of its cost. It’s just that many of the stills in color are somewhat murky and untrue to their originals. Perhaps that is a minor point of criticism.

I like the sheet-music covers and the film posters, the fan magazine covers of the 1940’s and such rare items as a color lobby card of The Private Life of Don Juan with Douglas Fair­ banks, a stunning color portrait of Hedy Lamarr and some charming pictures of Jeanette MacDonald (with and without Nelson Eddy).

As with all such books on films, there are tantalizing glimpses of scenes from features one woud love to see just once — such as Secrets, with Mary Pickford and Leslie Howard, or Grand Hotel, with Joan Crawford and Wallace Beery. Candids, studio portraits with impeccable lighting, garish posters and scenes are juxtaposed in a kaleidoscope of Hollywood glamor and occasional realism from the silents to the recent past.

War Movies, written by Tom Perlmutter, with a chapter on special effects by Derek Ware, also has superb pictures taken from The Kobal Collection Ltd. London. It is not a definitive book on films of war and man’s inhumanity to man, but its well-written text is worth reading. Like the other three books, War Movies should find two eager audiences — dedicated film buffs, and anyone who has begun taking a serious interest in films and wants a useful book with which to make a start.

50 Years o f Movie Posters is a collection of reproductions of daybills and one-sheet posters, lobby cards and publicity material. Attention-getting displays, intended for ephemeral urgency and selling to the millions, are now elevated to something akin to twentieth century art.

This 176-page treasure is to be indulged in out of sheer obsession with the popular cinema. Since the cost of authentic posters is so high, and since they are largely unavailable anyway in Australia, this book is a dream come true in allow­ ing a buff to have a collection of posters at reasonable cost.

Once again I have some reservations about the color. The original, lustrous brilliance of a number of the posters is reduc­ ed to a murky spectrum — but many are still delightful.

Final Cut: The Making and Breaking of a Film

by Paul Sylbert: A Continuum Book. Recommended price: $8.75 ..........

Roger O. Thornhill

Embassy film The Steagle, which was directed by Paul Sylbert.

The film has never been released in Melbourne, nor to my knowledge anywhere else in Australia.

Final Cut is not a film business text as such, but its novel­ like structure has a wealth of information on American film industry practice, studio production concepts and backroom pressures. It is thus of more than usual interest.

Sylbert wryly describes his first meeting with Joe Levine in a cavelike office above the Avenue of the Americas, as Levine screams on the phone to Carlo Ponti in Rome over budget problems.

Sylbert’s style is acidic. The book is clearly the catharsis of what he sees as the destruction of his film by crass fat-cat money men. Avco Embassy’s cash flow was obviously tight at the time of Sylbert's problems with The Steagle, and he notes the straightjacket-like insistence on budgets of ‘a million five’ (the average feature budget in the U.S. is $1,700,000).

More damning is the casting pressure exerted on him by Av­ co. Levine forced Sylbert to cast an ingenue starlet in a most difficult part; the starlet apparently having an affair with a high level Avco executive at the time.

Sylbert is cleared as director on the project because he shares a mutual knowledge with Levine of an American painter. He claims that Levine never read the script.

Although Sylbert was forced to make The Steagle with a main role cast by Avco executives, he had a relatively free hand in the rest of the casting. Richard Benjamin and Cloris Leachman accepted the main roles. Crewing was also left to Sylbert, although a studio producer and staff became another heavy millstone.

Shooting, both in New York and on the sound stage at Burbank, went smoothly, but Sylbert refused to film sequences involving the executive’s girlfriend. The head office seemed to accept the decision.

But with the conclusion of the filming, the assemblage of the material, and the trimming and shortening of the footage down to a screening version, the ‘earthquake’, as Sylbert calls it, occurred.

While college students and associates of Richard Benjamin and Sylbert liked the film, exhibitors and the heads of Avco’s foreign and domestic distribution set-up gave it the thumbs down.

Levine took the film away from Sylbert, forbade him access to the print, cut it from 120 minutes to 91, and threw it into a first release in New York’s East Side with crummy ads, where it died after two weeks. It was finally re-released as the top half of a double bill with The Ski Bum, under the title The Playboy.

Sylbert suggests that Levine has no Thalberg-type sense of public taste, but merely an ability (evidenced in his initial block selling of films like Hercules) to con an audience with ham advertising techniques. Avco, of course, are now purely a distribution entity for all practical purposes, and Levine himself is no longer with them. Sylbert, on the other hand, has yet to make another film.

Final Cut emphasises, with example after example, the dichotomy between the commercial and creative elements of the film industry. There is no easy answer to the problem.

What appears to be necessary is more awareness on the part of the writers-director, more tolerance on the part of producers, more informed market research, and less seat-of-the-pants decision-making by the entrepreneurs.

STILLS THIS ISSUE cic Columbia Filmways Val Frost Hexagon National Library of Australia Andrew Pike Roadshow, Graham Shirley South Australian Film Corporation Terryrod Productions Tracks 20th Century Fox Universal Pictures United Artists Paul Cox Aranda Films Melbourne Film Festival Sydney Film Festival Perth Film Festival Cinemahouse Australia John Moran Sue Johnston International Women’s Film Festival Noel Purdon Bruce Smeaton B.E.F. Walter A. Granger Brian Brandt & Associates National Library of Australia Jack Tauchert Cineaction

CORRIGENDA Number 5 March-April 1975 page 31: The still on this page of Tony Buckley’s article You Know Where We've Been, But . . . is from Raymond Longford’s On Our Selection (1920) and not Ken Hall’s On Our Selection (1932) page 72: Comercial Production (1) The Egg Board’s “Shopkeeper” — a Grahame Jennings production — was edited by Richard Clark of The Kiwi Film Company.

(2) Camel’s “Ahab The Arab” — an East Coast Films production — was edited by David Huggett of The Kiwi Film Company.

(3) Mum Deodorant’s “Young Girl & Older Girl”

by Window Productions — was edited by Richard Clark, and post production was done by the Kiwi Film Company.

BOOKS SUBMITTED FOR REVIEW The Art of Walt Disney Christopher Finch Harry N. Abrams Inc. N.Y. Distributed by Walter A. Granger Pty. Ltd. $35.00 Jaws Peter Benchley Pan Books Distributed by William Collins $1.95 The Strange Case of Alfred Hitchcock Raymond Durgnat Oxford University Press Distributed by Faber & Faber $17.00 World Cinema: A Short History David Robinson Eyre Methuen Distributed by Hicks Smith & Sons $7.50

While books on film history, aesthetics, profiles of directors and stars and technical lexicons are being published at an astonishing rate, only in the last year has any material been published on the business side of film production. Much of this recent material is not available in Australia, even from specialist bookstores, and some of it is only contained in limited circulation American commercial law journals and syllabus courses.

The Final Cut is about the making of the Joe Levine-Avco Cinema Papers, July-August — 175

Ivan Hutchinson The current series of RCA recordings by Charles Gerhardt and the National Philharmonic Orchestra of extracts from famous film scores such as those of Korngold, Steiner, Herrman and Rozza, are a reminder to writers of film music that they are working in a field that is no longer unnoticed.

These works are enthusiastically snapped up by a large public desirous of recapturing some of the romance and idealism of their-youth.

Considering how rare it was for a composer of this period to have his ‘background’ music preserved on disc, it is amazing how much craftsmanship and imaginative orchestration went into its making. Today the preservation of a film score on disc is — at least for most major films — a matter of course.

Given the current interest in the music which is today rather tiresomely called ‘Hollywood’s Golden Years’, it is difficult to recall the snobbish attitude held by most critics about film music in those days. The general opinion seemed to be that such music, if it was to be successful, should not be noticed by the audience. The corollary of that attitude, of course, would seem to be that little effort or talent needed to be put into a score for a film; if, at its best, it should be so self-effacing as to go unnoticed. This might be the function, say, of Muzak, but it has never been the intention of such fine composers as William Walton, Vaughan Williams, Serge Prokofiev, Erich Korngold, Max Steiner and Bernard Herrman.

While the music had to be functional (in the sense that what was written had to accompany, not overwhelm, the visual) it by no means meant that such scores had to be merely twentieth century equivalents of nineteenth century salon music; nor did it mean that such music could be successfully written by anyone with the barest modicum of musical talent.

“Good composers,” according to Tony Thomas, “write

For Sisters (Entr’acte — ERZ7001 — Import), Brian De Palma spent a considerable amount of his budget to obtain the services of Bernard Herrman, a more than apt choice for what has been described as De Palma’s homage to Hitchcock.

Every dollar spent to obtain Herrman was worth it.

The opening music behind the bizarre credit design (featur­ ing foetuses in various stages of development) combined an agitated four-note theme on the horns, with pizzicato strings, overlain with glock, chimes and synthesizers, gradually work­ ing down into the darker reaches of the orchestra.

This, along with colors Herrman loves to use in his fantasy scores, immediately involved the audience with hints of the horrors to come. The record, conducted by the composer, is, unlike so many discs, completely worthy of the music as heard in the film.

The John Brabourne-Richard Goodwin recreation of Christie’s thirties thriller Murder on the Orient Express (EMI — EMC3054) was astutely set right in period, and Richard Rodney Bennett’s music is perfectly in tune with that approach.

The salon-type pastiche used behind the credits (redolent of french windows and potted palms) is a delight, as is the lilting waltz which accompanies the Orient Express on its journey.

On the other hand, the string harmonics, punctuated by the ominous orchestral chords, that accompany the kidnapping se­ quence are equally appropriate in an entirely different way.

Again, the recording is a worthy reminder of the film.

In Chinatown (Interfusion — L 35,319), Jerry Goldsmith’s music works well, but separated from the striking visuals it is not exceptionally interesting in itself.

Goldsmith, born in Los Angeles, came through CBS radio to television in the fifties (his music for Thriller first brought him to my attention), and throughout the sixties he firmly es­ tablished himself as a new force in film music, with scores as diverse as the jazz-flavored The Stripper (1963), to The Sand Pebbles and The Blue Max (1966), which featured symphonic orchestras and many classic compositional devices.

His score for Chinatown relies heavily on a beautiful and melancholy theme for trumpet (superbly played by Uan Rasey), some prepared piano and various string effects.

The Academy Award winning soundtrack of The Godfather Part II (Interfusion — L 35,425) scored by Nino Rota and Carmine Coppola has also been recently released — and is a bit of a rip-off. .

The best of the music (Rota’s main theme) was already used in Part 1, and recorded. This record adds very little. Rota himself can do, and has done, better than this. ★

good music, film or otherwise.” One of the happier results of the advent of the long-playing record has been to prove that statement beyond any shadow of doubt.

But all this is by way of a preamble to the situation of writing music for films in the seventies — a radically different proposition, in many ways, from writing music for films in the thirties and forties. The symphonic-styled romantic scores that seemed perfectly appropriate for the escapist films of those times would sound odd juxtaposed with the images of big city crime capers or blood-spattered Westerns.

The strong jazz elements which started to make themselves heard on such soundtracks as Bernstein’s Man With the Golden Arm and Sudden Fear in the fifties suddenly took over altogether, it seemed, by the beginning of the sixties. The com­ mercial success of Henry Mancini and others led to a virtual jettison by the film interests of the symphonic tradition, in favor of the more commercial pop-orientated composer.

Often, scores were given to people in no way known for their compositional work (such as Errol Garner and Peter Nero), but whose name on the screen, or an album cover, meant something to the record-buying public.

These days are not over, but there are hopeful signs that the occasions on which a film could be ruined by the intrusion of a ludicrously inept tacked-on theme tune, or the use of a jazz ensemble, purely for commercial purposes, are slowly passing.

Creative composers, well-versed in traditional compositional techniques, but aware also of the manner in which jazz, pop, or rock elements may be used to advantage (to say nothing of the electronic instruments and effects now possible) are here again, and some excellent scores are finding their way to film soundtracks, and, occasionally, on disc as well.

Four such soundtracks have recently been released: Sisters

by Bernard Herrman; Murder on the Orient Express by Richard Rodney Bennett; Chinatown by Jerry Goldsmith; and The Godfather Part II by Carmine Coppola.

/G ir

Film Review Information Service

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A werewolf stalks the corridors ot power in this hilarious homage to horror films set In the chaos of contemporary WEREWOLF could well be the DR STRANGELOVE Watergate.' S ig h t a n d S o u n d .

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The George Lugg Library P.O. Box 357 Cariton South Vic. 3053

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^FROM THE 1974 LONDON FILM FESTIVAL

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The George Lugg Library welcomes en­ quiries on local and overseas films. On request, photostat copies of synopses, ar­ ticles, reviews will be forwarded. Please detail specific information required and send S.A.E. plus 50 cents search fee for each three titles to:

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WEREWOLF O F A te t WASHINGTON V f lf V

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NOW IN RELEASE from

RONIN FILMS 136 Blarney Crescent, Campbell, A.C.T. 2601 Phone (Canberra) 48 0851 Telegrams and cables: ROFILM Canberra

ALSO RELEASING: KON ICHIKAWA: THE WANDERERS ‘A funny, beautiful and anti-heroic period film, one (the only one in recent years) well within the great tradition of Japanese period films.’ (Donald Richie, New York Times). Japanese dialogue, English subtitles. Color.

JERZY SKOLIMOWSKI: KING QUEEN KNAVE

The Library is operated with the assistance of the Australia Council Film, Radio and Television Board 176 — Cinema Papers, July-August

‘Marvellous performances; stylish visual comedy; above all an astonishing feeling for Nabokov’s playfully poetic malice.’ 3 star rating (Sight and Sound). English dialogue. Color.

SATYAJIT RAY: THE INNER EYE

From the 1974 Sydney Film Festival, Ray’s moving short film about the blind artist Mukherji. English commentary by Ray. Color.

GLENDA JACKSON /SU SA N SONTAG

Glenda Jackson

Susan Sontag

Continued from page III

Continued from page 112

Do you ever offer any technical criticism — for instance in the flat corridor sequence in “Sun­ day Bloody Sunday”, the sound has an echoing quality ...?

No, Schlesinger deliberately chose that sound for the sound track. Sometimes in postlynching I hear a line I’ve interpreted with the wrong tone or inflection and, if possible, alterations are made.

Have any directors expressed a preference for using you in long or middle shots as opposed to close-ups?

Sometimes, I have suggested that a full shot would enable the full body to make a gesture that interpreted the mood more effectively than just a close-up of the face.

Do you believe a film could be made through a group decision process?

No. Actors are people who will never make a decision if it can be avoided, and it’s essen­ tial for a film or stage production that someone have complete authority to make decisions and keep a balance between the con­ flicting claims of the actors’ ideas. Otherwise, working together can become too personally destructive.

It’s too easy to forget in those situations that the text you’re dealing with probably represents a greater mind than all the ones that are interpreting it. You have to have respect for the text and believe that what you are making is more than the total of the egos involved in it.

It’s particularly true in the theater, where the original idea will have come in a far more filled-in form than in films, where the director may only bring the skeleton for the actors to flesh out. Someone like Peter Brook would always listen to and try out what any of'us had to say. A great director is great because he is open. You should be able to say anything to him and he should be able to say anything to you. If you are going to have your feelings hurt you shouldn’t be doing it in the first place.

A film is obviously different from a theatrical production in that it can be altered after its completion. Have you ever been concerned that the direction of the finished product has been changed either by the editor or an entrepreneur?

No. Have the roles you played ever affected your life and the way you were living?

Not in films, because all the energy goes out so quickly. Making a film is like five firstnights in one day. It’s so physically demanding that by the end of the day there’s nothing left.

In a play, if you’re doing it for a long time, it begins to mesh with-your everyday percep­ tions, because you have to re-create it each time. During Marat-Sade it was like living in a lunatic asylum, and one day it occurred to me that everyone I had talked to that day was. in­ sane.

Have you ever been offered scripts by large.

American companies?

Yes, but the scripts were all unsuitable.

If you were offered a script from Hollywood that was ‘suitable’, would you accept?

Yes, I’d do anything for anybody if it were good.

Working on “Sunday Bloody Sunday”, did you find that having a script written by a woman added to or altered the interpretation of your role?

No, Schlesinger had suggested the idea to Penelope Mortimer years ago. She was in New York when we were shooting, and I think they had long conversations on the telephone over it.

What did you feel about the unhappiness of the characters at the end of the film? Do you think they should have been allowed to make those choices and be happy as well?

No, to me it was very realistic. People manage personal relationships worst of all — the important thing is that they go on exposing themselves to feeling and go on loving. What’s so remarkable and admirable about the film is that the sexual aspect of their relationships is underplayed — they all really love and care for each other. And they keep themselves open to gt> on loving, taking their scars with them and knowing that they’ll always be hurt. You must remember 10 years ago they would have all had to go off into a room and shoot themselves. But they were all there at the end, alive — certainly scarred.

Peter’s speech then, which he did so beautifully, shows just how much. But you know absolutely that suicide’s not on for any of them.

I think the irony in “Promised Lands” is what makes it such a thought-provoking and stimulating documentation. You use it first at the very beginning of the film in the war cemetery memoriar service scene.

Yes, those are the people from the British Consulate, who are doing this annual thing at the Jerusalem War-Cemetery in commemora­ tion in 1970 of the British soldiers who died in Palestine. I notice in all three of my films — Duet for Cannibals, Brother Karl and Promis­ ed Lands — that I like to use (I suppose this is what you talk about when you speak of irony) a kind of binary construction in which a scene early in a film will have its complement later on.

From a purely formal point of view, I’d say that the two dinner scenes that you mentioned If you were presented with a responsible project in Duet for Cannibals are parallel to the two — possibly to be written and directed by cemetery sequences in Promised Lands. There women — delineating new forms of social is the'completely absurd non-mourning in a relationships, would you be willing to assist cemetery at the beginning where people are even to the extent of taking a deferred salary? chattering and completely removed from any grief and at the end of the film there is real Yes, because no actress should be in the mourning, with the parents, brothers, sisters business for the money. I’ve already done this and children of people who have just died. It is in The Triple Echo with Oliver Reed. We both when you get to the end of the film that you took hardly any money and shot it in an in­ see that first cemetery sequence in another credibly short time because we believed in way. what it was about and that the director knew That is the natural form of construction that what he was doing.

I’ve always used. I don’t decide in advance What kind of films would you like to be making that I am going to look for two scenes that will in the future? complement each other but it generally tends to work out that way. It’s a very natural form I really want to make political films — ones of construction, and when you work in a non­ that take up an overt political stance. But fiction film it’s very exciting. there are tremendous problems. Ken Loach I didn’t particularly want to make any non­ worked 18 months to get a script of this nature fiction films, but now that I have made one — together and then ran into a wall of censorship Promised Lands — I’d like to do more. With a as no one would give him the money to finish non-fiction film there is both less and more it. Even when Loach had actually got the freedom — less freedom in the way, of course, money and made the film, he met a more in­ you can’t control things. It’s real life, the peo­ sidious form of censorship. , ple are doing what they’re doing. You can’t In Britain, there’s the Board of Film Cen-. tell them to stop and cry again if you didn’t sors, but the real censorship comes from the like the way they sobbed last time. distributors who will not distribute these films It’s true you have no control, but you have once they are made. Triple Echo, which is set your eye, your temperament, your sensibility, in the war and is about a woman who shields a and you have fantastic editing possibilities deserter, is a case in point. It was never> because you’re not tied to a linear narrative properly distributed, and hardly anybody’s structure. seen it.

You said you didn’t particularly want to make a documentary. How did you get involved in doing it?

FILMOGRAPHY Well I had the idea, but it wasn’t any kind of long term project. The war in the Middle 1967 Marat Sade (Peter Brook) UK East broke out and I thought surely there was 1968 Negatives (Peter Medak) UK a film to be made there.

I’d never been to Israel but I had followed 1969 Women in Love (Ken Russell) UK the situation pretty closely and I think I was 1970 The Music Lovers (Ken Russell) UK interested in making a film in a war zone. At 1971 Sunday Bloody one point in my life, after visiting Vietnam I Sunday (John Schlesinger) UK had wanted to make a film there. But I was not completely certain that I really had the ar­ 1972 The Boyfriend (Ken Russell) UK tistic ideas to match the moral ideas which The Triple Echo (Michael Apted) UK were motivating me.

1973 A Touch of Class (Melvin Frank) UK A French producer, Nicole Stephane, who Bequest to the also produced To Die in Madrid encouraged Nation (James Cellan Jones) UK me very much.

Mary Queen of .

The whole thing was completely different Scots (Charles Jarrot) UK from the two feature films I made in Sweden.

The crew was put together in a matter of days 1974 The Temptress (Damiano Damiani) Italy — you can’t ask a war to stop — and I went off. Then I found that I loved doing it. I loved 1975 The Romantic the risk of not knowing what was going to Englishwoman (Joseph Losey) UK happen when the camera was on.

I think that this experience was psy­ (Incomplete) chologically very good for me. When I do my next film, I will do it a little differently because I changed when I didn’t have the kind of control that I was used to having.

In Duet for Cannibals and the second Swedish film, Brother Karl I was extremely authoritarian as a director and I wasn’t in­ terested in any kind of improvisation. The ac­ tors did exactly what I wanted down to every movement of the head and hand.

I remember there was a sequence in Duet for Cannibals when the actor who plays Thomas was coming into the study, and it starts with a shot of him in the doorway. We worked it out, walked it through and I showed

him exactly where I wanted him to do it — which was the way I was filming the whole left foot?” I burst out laughing because I realized that maybe I was exaggerating a little thing. I said, “O.K. now, you step over the threshold” , and he said, “The right foot or the bit. I didn’t want him to feel that he couldn’t make a move. Still, I wasn’t sorry you know, there are directors who do it that way.

Bresson is another director who walks through every simple movement and reads everybody’s lines for them. They even have to imitate his voice. It’s a style of operation like any other.

Some directors allow a lot of freedom to the director of photography and the editor. I had very detailed shooting scripts for both Duet for Cannibals and Brother Karl. I felt comfortable knowing exactly what I wanted to do visually, so that editing (which I do myself) was really just pasting it together and chopping off the little bits that didn’t work, like Hitchcock does. Whereas making a non-fiction film like Promised Lands, with eleven hours of material and knowing I had to make a film under an hour and a half, was a whole new editing process which I enjoyed very much. I think I now might be a. little more interested in "ac­ cidents’ in feature films that) I was before as a result of working in non-fiction. ©

Sue Johnson

FILMOGRAPHY

DUET FOR CANNIBALS (Sweden 1969) Black & white D istrib u to r......................................... .Contemporary Production com pany................................... Sandrews Production m a n a g e r.................................Peter Hald Assistant director .......................Brita Werkmaster Script and D irector............................ Susan Sontag Photography.......................................Lars Swanberg E d ito r .....................................Carl-Olov Skeppstedt" Sound ......................................................... Ulf Darin Cast: Lars Ekborg (Artur Bauer), Adriana Asti (F rancesca), G osta Ekm an (T om as), A greta Ekmannes (Ingrid).

L ength.................................................... 106 minutes Subtitles.

Sontag’s first cinematic venture is a low budget feature film in black and white. It is a psychological ‘chamber’ film using only two locations and four characters. The main theme is the hypnotic manipulation and the exploitive influence an older couple exercises over a younger one.

A political scientist, Professor Bauer lives in exile in Sweden with his Italian wife Francesca. H ehires a young student, Tomas, to live in as a private secretary in order to edit his voluminous notes for a new publication. In addition to his secretarial duties, Tomas is asked to provide companionship for Francesca and this appears to involve erotic services.

Meanwhile, Tomas’ mistress, Ingrid, watches the situation developing within the Bauer household with alarm and urges Tomas to resign. To prevent him leaving, Bauer persuades Ingrid to protect her in­ terests by moving into the house as well. Thus the older couple enlarge the scope of their predatory and emotionally manipulative games with the younger pair.

BROTHER KARL (Sweden 1971) Black & white Production com pany...................................Sandrews Script and D irector...............................Susan Sontag C a m e ra .................................................................RumeEricson Cast: Genevieve Page (Karen), Gunnel Lindblom (Lena), Keve Hjelm (Martin), Laurent Terzieff (Carl), Torsten Wahland (Husband): L ength......................................................................... 95minutes English soundtrack.

Another ‘chamber’ film in which Sontag continues the exploration of human relationships started in Duet for Cannibals.

PROMISED LANDS (Israel 1974) Color P ro d u cer........................................... Nicole Stephane Director and S crip t.............................Susan Sontag C a m e ra .............. *....................................Jeri Sopanen Editors ............................................. Anne Chevalley, Florence Bocquet Sound ........................................................Gary Alper Assistant D irecto r............ ...................... David Reiff Length ..........................................................87 minutes English soundtrack.

A feature length documentary (her first) on the Arab-Israeli wars shot in color on location in Israel.

With intellectual detachment, Sontag explores the background to, and the present eruptions of, ArabIsraeli antagonisms in her search for a personal vi­ sion of the tortured land.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 177

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

Hungarian Season Continued from page 135

Throughout the film the images and rhythms penetrate to emotional states beyond the obvious political rhetoric; but again what limits its power to fully engage thought and feeling is a preoccupation with an explicit, literal pattern of revolutionary activity.

conflicts are made to appear as simple, in­ evitable and universal. The smooth and un­ broken camerawork — the whole film shot in nine or ten takes — creates a sense of timelessness, especially in the constant view of distant perspectives drawn out to the open plain.

Elektreia (1974) is radically different. This is

unmistakeably Jancso’s masterpiece, and in­ terestingly, he has taken the story from the Greek drama by Euripides. This source provides the framework that is only there in his earlier films either by implication or represented in exaggerated political gestures.

The drama is set in the country of Aegisthos at the annual feast of justice. Aegisthos is celebrating the fifteenth anniversary of his assumption of power after he murdered the previous king, Agamemnon. Electra is set apart, mourning the death of her father, and awaiting the return of her brother Orestes to slay the king.

Again it is the exact timing and rhythm of the restless movements of people and animals and flights of birds that steadily bind the audience. The rituals express precisely states of abandon and assumed ecstasy. The camera roves around the green plain, across rocky pools, along sun-bleached stone walls; focuses briefly on naked women, bowls of wheat and rice, nets, swords and daggers.

Objects are transfigured; they express a mythical significance just as action takes place entirely within a liturgical framework. So

that she describes. The acting of Mari Torocsik is meticulous, perfectly modulated as she uses the ceremonies of the feast day to isolate herself from the king and his subservient people.

Jancso uses no formal chorus, yet indicates the relations between individual figures and society through an exquisite choreography of small groups that form, break up and re-form in apparently endless and intricate variations on ritual movements.

Unfortunately,. Jancso' feels bound to stress at the end the revolutionary potential of his drama, and he introduces a brilliant red h e lico pte r together with a stream of propaganda about the workers’ Utopia. This doesn’t destroy tbe spellbinding effects of Elektreia but remains as an uncomfortable reminder of the difficult position Jancso finds himself in: an exceptional stylist forced to ac­ commodate his work to intrusive political demands.

Mikl6s Jancso’s Elektreia

The conventions of stage drama have been done away with more completely than in any other film I can recall. Even the dialogue is spare and insistent. Electra begins by telling us that her presence reminds her countrymen of the need for justice; she goes on to insist that she is justice. She assumes the condition

smart st. films

Over the years, the Festival has been criticized for its concentration on traditional sources of filmmaking. It would be a sad irony if the commercial failure of the Hungarian season forced a reappraisal of the kinds of special series that are offered to festivalgoers. It might be nice to have an Australian retrospective season in Melbourne as well as in Sydney, but not at the expense of a film­ maker like Miklos Jancso. ★

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178 — Cinema Papers, July-August

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M O TIO N PIC TU RE PRO D U C TIO N S P T Y . LTD PROUDLY ANN OUNCE THE FORTHCOMING PRODUCTION OF A N EW FEATURE FILM

T H E Y H U N TED HIM T H E Y STARVED HIM T H E Y JAILED HIM T H E Y FLOGGED HIM T H E Y BRANDED HIM T H E Y BEAT HIM T H E Y SHOT HIM

BUT THEY COULD HOT BREAK HIM

1001 NIGHTS AND 120 DAYS

1001 Nights and 120 Days Continued from page 115 Here Pasolini is dealing not only with the European nature morte but with the long tradition of the still life in Persian painting, and especially in Persian verse. The Nights contain poems that praise pomegranates and apples as well as beautiful boys and girls. Often the imagery of both sensualities is mingled and overpowering with its musky scent: PEARS Half acid to a lover’s taste, flirting hips on a black waist, little Ionian, little Aleppan little yellow and green girls.

In the film, the fruits and the cities of Islam are pressed into the same participation in the sexual game. The Frank gives the drug to Nur on a banana. The spirit of Mosul equals purity; Aleppo is sin; Bagdad the penis; the love of the two mosques the buttocks.

This mixture is what gives the repeated still-life establishing shots of strawberries and decanters and fruit-piled bowls their quality of voluptuousness, just as it gives the human nudes a quality of vulnerability as well as beauty. What you take from the film depends very much on your willingness to have this kind of distillation of the taste of the book made for you. In this sense II Fiore Delle Mille e Una Notte (The Flower of the 1001 Nights) which is what Pasolini called the film, is no affec­ tation. It states directly that the film is a highly organized selection from the book, and that the selection has been made on aesthetic considerations which are essentially Eastern.

Pasolini is faithful to the preoccupations of the Nights, though he neglects the broad comic elements found in the tales of fools, hashish eaters, bath attendants and gulled husbands.

Gay women will also be annoyed to note that he leaves un­ touched the tales concerned with female homosexuality.

Surprisingly, he also ignores the great cycles of tales about hidden treasure, taking their motif from the economic and cultural transformation which occurs when an individual is suddenly possessed of magical wealth. All the underground treasure here is sexual.

AESTHETICS The light patterns of the film take their cut from intense contrasts of blackly shining hair and whitely gleaming teeth.

Exterior light coming into dark interiors might almost be described as one of its structural principles, from the souk’s thatched roofing to the alabaster windows of Dunya’s pavilion.

A visual peak is reached with the glorious camera-paintings of Isfahan, gleaming like oriental scenes by Giovanni Bellini, and the interiors glowing with light and mirrors. In this Islamic conception of light, where what is reflected is considered more beautiful and mystical than that which shines, all the com­ positions now take on this luminous quality, the reds and blues of the procession gleaming on the other side of the lake, the Trank’s head framed against the pure green of the pool, the green corn running up to the exterior walls of the city.

Herein lies any visual magic which the film has — certainly not in the opticals. Rank (who provide excellent special effects, e.g. Tommy) are not to be congratulated on their performance here, though it looks as if the footage supplied to the lab by Pasolini was in any case ill-matched in lighting and grading tone.

Magic here lies in the same control of structural detail as in the other elements of the film — the static scene of the city awaiting Zumurrud in its mysterious ranks arrayed outside the walls; the low-angle face-frame of the enchantress performing her hieratip mime from a palace window.

Sequences such as this become as formalised as the narrative and reach perfection in emblematic scenes in which people lay signs on each other by mime or codes: 1. Aziz and Aziza are paralleled in their pain, but only Aziza is conscious, and her bandaged head is as emblematic as the cutout moon behind her.

2. The splendid montage sequence of bells over twenty dialogue-free shots of Nepal.

3. The cut to a still-life which introduces the central dream, craning up the dream-face and room to a dream landscape full of zither music and birds trapped and flying. The dis­ solving pans over the fields and the turning face of the dreamer suggest their identity.

This last provides a further example of the use made of ob­ jets d’art as formal elements in the aesthetic composition.

Zumurrud’s embroidery, the Vizier’s poem, the palace book, Aziz’s scroll, Taji’s and Dunya’s mosaic assume talismanic importance as evokers of dreams within dreams, tales within tales. They serve the function of brass lamps summoning djins, at the same time as providing a formal and artistic comment on the narrative and the composition, (“The whole truth is never in one dream but in many dreams”), and, in the case of Taj, pushing along the narrative (by representing and exorcis­ ing the princess’s dream in the gold and blue mosaic he will win her love.).

180 — Cinema Papers, July-August

RESTRICTIVE TRADE PRACTICES LEGISLATION AND THE FILM INDUSTRY PART II

How do these motifs and codes act together to create the hypnerotomachia of the film? Briefly, to recapitulate: The first section is taken up with a balancing act which claims equality in love between men and women. Implicit in Zumurrud’s witty reversal of her situation, it becomes explicit in the formal debate between Harun and Zobeida as to whether the boy or girl is more beautiful. The debate is resolved, with the conscious reasoning that typifies this part of the film, by their concurrence that the lovers are mirrors of each other, two bright moons in the same sky.

The tone deepens in the sacral presentation of Zumurrud’s abduction, where the solemn music works in the same way as it did in Accattone, dignifying and making epic the brutal action.

Similar rituals are enacted in the shot styles and rhythms of the sequence in the khan leading up to the execution of Barsum and Jawan.

Restrictive Trade Practices Legislation Continued from page 119 Appendix F: The fate of one typical exhibitor’s complaint under the old ‘Concrete Pipes’ Restrictive Trade Prac­ tices Act. CO MM ONWE AL TH OF AUSTRALIA

OFFICE

OF

COMMISSIONER

OF

TRADE

PRACTICES

9 February 1971

MEDITATIONS Now follows a series of meditations on the nature of sacrifice in love. A pigeon delivers its mate and is sacrificed by being trapped. Azizah sacrifices herself to save Aziz, who mourns and understands only after her death. The girl entomb­ ed by a demon sacrifices herself rather than harm her lover, who watches her chopped to pieces in front of him. The Princess of the Far Isles sacrifices herself in order to free the same man from his transformation into a monkey. A pigeon delivers its mate on the mosaic, and Taji is united with Dunya.

It is within this dream, and story within the dream, that the triumph of oneiric cinema occurs. All the action becomes con­ tained, not only by the poolside book but by the dream of Dunya, especially since the first situation is no more returned to as a framework than the induction to Taming of the Shrew, whereas the second completes this whole most oneiric se­ quence. The structural dimensions become deliberately com­ plicated by the further device of tales told by the artists who are meanwhile completing the dream work of the mosaic.

These two tales mirror each other in their particular tragedy, i.e. the sexual sacrifice of the young (two girls in the first tale, a boy in the second), and the consequent sacrifice which must be made by their fatal lovers. Dismemberment of woman as sexual revenge by a demon male further parallels castration of man as sexual revenge by woman. The first tale, referring back to Aziz, also provides the final contrast in Pasolini’s polarization of his two main actors: Citti (Accat­ tone, Oedipus, Summoner, Liar and ultimately Demon) and Davoli (Angelo, Fra Ninetto, Fool and ultimately, Angel).

The two mosaic workers have renounced sexuality along with their renunciation of power. They are the only two characters in the film who have, and their adventures are a moral fable warning us and their listeners of horrible possibilities; ghouls, naked girls chained in dungeons, hands hacked off, boys played with in the bath and then stabbed. The conclusion of these two sublimating artists, both significantly filmed at beginning and end in the Himalayan, and non­ Islamic cities of the Katmandu valley, is to become pilgrims, lowest workers, voyagers. Keeping underground as their dual metaphor, they both rely for their central erotic experiences on the sealed underground chamber; girl-rape and boy­ mutilation, and I-alone-am-escaped-to-tell-you. Both artists had to descend the same magic ladders into the earth; both found there an erotic experience which destroyed their lovers and transfigured them. Thus their relevance to the central ex­ perience of Zumurrud and Nur-el-Din, whose fundamental problem is to find each other.

This is the nearest Pasolini comes to stating a religioeconomic message in the Nights. He certainly hasn’t foreborne doing so in most of his other films. But such messages clearly won’t do for mass entertainment, religion being the opium, the bleeding heart, etc, of a cruel world.

You can con as many people by making a savage version of religion (Diirer and Caravaggio and Jana£ek and Eisenstein have all done their bit) as by treating it with kid gloves. And the success of the Gospel undoubtedly owes a lot to this and its subject rather than to any especially superior moral or aesthetic picture that it provides. He closes 1001 Nights on the sheer secular and erotic note of Zumurrud and Nur getting together and ready to fuck.

Accattone and Mama Roma began Pasolini’s film career with concerns essentially religious, aesthetic and economic, rather than sexual. His bourgeois diptych (Theorem and Pigsty) and his medieval trilogy have gradually taken sexuality as the particular arena of their drama, provoking pseudo­ Marxist hysterics from bourgeois critics whose real objection may be found in their puritanism, and lubricious sneers and handrubbings from distributors.

With the 120 Days of Sodom, which he is now shooting, we will see how far Pasolini is able to create a new dialectic for a position in which he will otherwise find himself stuck, if for no other reason than having to collude, in this tolerated but cen­ sured way, in the sexual fantasies of an essentially sexist society.

It may well be that sex and not religion is what we can’t get enough of. Of that the fantasy and voyeuristic dream of the cinema have become essential to us. It may be that sex is the opium, the bleeding heart, etc, of a cruel world. And if so, where would people be then?'^'

Dear Sir, The Officor-in-Chnrge of the Commissioner1a Melbourne Office has reported to me your oral complaint about your difficulties in obtaining certain films for your theatros.

You suggested that on agreement exists uhoreby Twentieth Century Fox Film Corporation (Aust.)

Pty. Ltd. and fi.L.F. (Film Distributors) Aust. Ply. Ltd. offer films distributed by them to their related theatre chains, namely Hoyts Theatres Ltd., and The Greater Union Organisation l»ty. Ltd. respectively, and that films not wanted by the related chains arc then offered, in the case of Twentieth Century Fox films to Greater union and then to Village Driye-ln Theatres Pty. Ltd. and in the case of B.E.F. films to Village ami thou to Hoyts.

The result is that you have to select fro.u those films loft ovor and these you say are usually of relatively poor quality. juinablo under the Trade For the matter to be *y lor the two film Practices Act it would bo accès .g by agreement. Generally distributing companies to be ac speaking a company is f roo mulo or condi tions ■ • • . hjch_JLt_w i11 do 1 1 wTth an o ther, provided ision.

The Tiives tigations carried out it takes its o al that the companies concerned

by Ihis oTFI cc'^UTlio C are acting under agreement and the action that this blTico is author!

Yours faithfully,

(K. Collines) Assistant Commisstoner.

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RESTRICTIVE TRADE PRACTICES LEGISLATION AND THE FILM INDUSTRY PART II

m Restrictive Trade Practices Legislation and the Film Industry Part II Continued from page 119

The profit calculations are for the Company and not for the entire Rank Organisation. The total pre-tax profits for these years were: £ million 1972 1971 1970 9-6 10-5 Compa ny 16-1 33-7 50-5 36-6 Group Company profits as % of group 32% 26% 31% The profits from outside the company come from Rank’s investments in associated companies. The most most notable of these, as has been mentioned, is Rank-Xerox. The other important associated companies are: Company

Percentage Holding

Film Exhibition Cathay Organisation—Malaysia Ceylon Theatres—Ceylon Greater Union Organisation —Australia Matubel—Holland Kerridge Odeon—New Zealand

50%, 36 % 50%

Film Laboratories Technospes—Italy

335%

25% 27 %

Manufacture Mulchandani Electrical and Radio Industries—India 49% Murphey India Ltd.—India 49%, Television Southern Television—UK 38% Rank’s share of after-tax profits in Southern Television was about £550 thousand in 1972.

The subsidiaries of the Rank Organisation, that is the companies within the Company in which the Rank Organisation holds a controlling interest, are: Butlin’s Ltd. (1)—Leisure City Wall Properties Ltd.—Property City Wall Properties (Holdings) Ltd.— Property English Numbering Machines Ltd.— Manufacture of counting and numbering devices.

A. Kershaw & Sons, Ltd.— Investment holding company.

Odeon (Ireland) Ltd.—Film exhibition, property, television rental and retail.

The Odeon Theatres (Canada) Ltd.— Film exhibition (2).

Rank Advertising Films Ltd.— Advertising films.

Rank Audio-Visual Ltd.—Manufacture and factors of audio-visual, professional film, electronic and educational equipment.

Rank Bush Murphy Ltd.— Manufacture of television and radio receivers.

Rank Film Distributors Ltd.—Film distribution.

Rank Film Laboratories Ltd.—Film processing.

Rank Hotels Ltd.—Hotels.

Rank Leisure Services Ltd.—Bingo clubs, ballrooms, suites and motorports (3).

Rank Precision Industries Ltd.— Manufacture of optical, mechanical and electronic equipment.

Rank Precision Industries (Holdings) Ltd.—Investment holding company.

Rank Property Developments Ltd.— Property.

Rank Strand Electric Ltd.— Manufacture of theatre lighting equipment.

Oddenino’s Property and Investments Ltd.—Property.

Notes: (1) Butlin’s and Oddenino's are recent acquisitions, and their figures are not included in the 1972 accounts. Butlin’s made a pre-tax profit o f ‘at least’ £4-2 million in 1972.

Butlin’s has eight holiday camps in this country, one in Ireland and three holiday hotels in England. Oddenino’s had a pre-tax profit of £2-1 million last year. Most of this profit came from its hotels which include the Royal Garden Hotel in London and a number of hotels and restaurants in Europe. The property side of this company's activities includes a £46 million development in Australia and another large development in Canada.

The largest part of Oddenino’s holdings is , however, in the United States, and it consists in the main of shopping zones. A number of these are in Washington. On completion of the Rank’s takeover. The Guardian commented: “Thus Rank is buying a portfolio which will avoid the influence of the UK government and there is no question of the deal falling through, as Mr. Bloomfield (the ‘creator’ of Oddenino’s) has accepted in respect of the board’s 27-5 per cent and his two institutional shareholders-financiers, Pearl Assurance and the 1CI Pension Fund, for a further 41-2 per cent.”

(2) One City source suggested recently that Rank's Canadian

182 — Cinema Papers, July-August

exhibition subsidiary has acquired about 12% of Global Communications, Canada's new third television network.

(3) The description of the activities of these subsidiaries comes from The Rank Organisation’s 1972 Annual Report. Curiously the author or the authors of the report have omitted ‘film exhibition’ from the activities of Rank Leisure Services Ltd. which manages all the Rank cinemas.

The details of Rank's shareholding in Fox-Rank Film Distributors Ltd. is not yet public. The company started effective operations in December 1972, so it is not clear whether Fox-Rank is a subsidiary of the Rank Organisation or an associated company. The name of the new company suggests that Fox has the majority holding, if there is a majority holding. Rank's 1972 report defined the activities of the new company: ..

“Following the establishment of the new company, both Twentieth Century Fox and Rank Film Distributors will continue independently playing their leading roles in the Industry. . . .

Rank Film Distributors will maintain control of The Rank Organisation’s investment in film production, and will service the Industry through its Despatch and Examination Departments.

It will also be responsible for worldwide distribution of products, following the recently announced integration of Rank Overseas Film Distributor’s activities with its own.

Twentieth Century Fox will continue with its world production and acquisition of British product, the control and booking of its theatres and will retain its interest in British Movietonews Ltd., its 16mm. operation and other ancillary activities.

The new company will not operate in Eire or, for the present, in Northern Ireland, nor will it handle sales to television or non-theatrical 16mm. films.”

Other subsidiaries: Rank has a number of subsidiaries which do not appear on the list given above. Top Rank Film Processing caters for the amateur market, and is now the second largest amateur film processing company after Kodak Ltd. Part of this operation was acquired from Ilford in 1971. The Rank Organisation markets Pentax, Nikon, and Mamiya cameras in this country as well as Akai tape recorders and Rotel amplifiers. Rank’s 16mm. distribution library distributes films for such companies a s : Avco-Embassy, British Lion, the Children’s Film Foundation, Cinerama, MGM, Disney and Warner Bros. Rank Credit Facilities specialises in the provision of hire purchase arrangements for radio and television receivers. In addition, Rank seems to be involved in three exploration consortia in the North Sea. Rank’s hotels include The Royal Lancaster and the soon to be opened Gloucester, as well as hotels in Portugal and Sardinia.

Rank’s Film In(crests Rank is a vertically integrated company. In film industry terms, this means that Rank produces, distributes, and exhibits films. It also services production with its laboratories, Pinewood Studios, post-production facilities, etc. It services distribution with its despatch and examination facilities, and it supplies and services its cinemas to whom it sells seats and screens.

Production and Distribution: The annual reports provide the following information concerning Rank’s production output and investment : Production output 1972 1971 1970 First features 8 13 8 Second features 1 5 6 Production investment 1-45 1-7 1-5 (£ million) Rank’s annual reports provide the following information concerning its provision of production finance “in whole or part”, its production output of first and second features, and its distribution activities: Production investment 1972 1971 1970 (£ million) 1-45 1-7 1-5 Feature production First features 8 13 8 Second features 1 5 6 In 1972 Rank distributed “ 11 British films (one a second feature) and 21 foreign films (9 second features). Of the 32 films, 19 were produced by Universal.” In 1971 Rank distributed 19 films and in 1970 it handled 28

features. The company operates in Eire, Malta and Gibraltar. Rank’s accounts lump its distribution and production figures together, but a comparision with the accounts of Rank Film Distributors Ltd. provides' the following percentages for distribution as a percentage of total turnover and profit for ‘Film Production and Distribution’: 1971 Turnover Profits

—

23%

1970 42% 16%

1969 24% (25%)

The profit margins for production and distribution taken together were: 1972 4-6%

1971 9-3%

1970 12-6%

1969 1968 loss loss

Studios and laboratories: The profit margins in this area of the Rank Organisation’s activities for the same years were: 1972 9-2%

197.1 14-6%

1970 1969 1968 13-1% 21-2% 22%

The decline in profit margins seems to be due to the decreasing profitability of Pinewood Studios. Sir John Davis commented in the 1972 annual report: " . . . I find it difficult to understand why there is such a great resistance to reducing the number of studios to a more effective level in relation to potential demand. This would be in the interests and well-being of the employees in the Film Production Industry and would create financially sound economic units. Unfortunately, we only seem to make progress in rationalisation in periods of crisis.

The recent curtailment of the number of studios at Shepperton can only be of help to them and the whole industry.”

In 1971 the laboratories contributed 85 % of the pre-tax profit for this sector of the Rank’s activities. In 1969 it was 74 %.

Exhibition: Direct exhibition income to Rank comes from two sources, its cinemas in the British Isles and its overseas cinemas which are mainly in Canada.

Rank has continued to close some of its cinemas. In 1968 it operated 272 cinemas. In spite of some initial doubts, Rank is now converting a number of cinema sites into multi-cinema units. Sir John Davis again: “At the commencement of the year (1971-72) we were operating 233 sites with 244 screens; at the close of the year the figures were 210 and 232—a move in the right direction.”

The profit margins for domestic exhibition were: Domestic 1969 1968 1971 1970 1972 12-8% 13-8% 12-8% 12-6% Overseas 10-8 % 11-2%. 11-9% 11-2% 10-8% Analysis of Rank’s film interests Taking the three Rank accounting areas—Film production and distribution, film studios and laboratories, and domestic exhibition —the organisation’s involvement with its film interests has steadily been reduced, as can be seen from the following table:

profits soared from about £5-5 million in 1961 to £11-3 million in 1966. This was due to a substantial increase in record sales. Between 1962 and 1964 production of 45’s and LP’s increased by about 25%, while EMI’s profits for the same period almost doubled. Although this increase was not solely due to the Beatles, one estimate suggests that in the financial year 1963/64 the Beatles contributed about £2 million to EMI’s profits.

With the profits from its record business, EMI started to diversify into the leisure field. By 1968, The Times was able to call it the “ biggest entertainment group in Britain”. In 1967 EMI took over the Grade Organisation for £7-5 million.

Lew and Leslie Grade, Bernard Delfont, and Emile Littler provided EMI with strong financial connections in television, the theatre, the Shipman and King cinema chain, and a number of agencies. In 1968 it acquired Warner Bros., 25% holding in the Associated British Picture Corporation for about £9-5 million. In 1969 it acquired the rest of ABPC for about £30 million. With ABPC it acquired a majority holding in Thames Television. The minority holding in Thames was given to Rediffusion, a subsidiary of British Electric Traction.

The 1TA required EMI to reduce its holding in Thames, so it sold off some of its shares in Thames to Sir Charles Forte and South Bank Estates Ltd. Quite recently EMI has taken over The Golden Egg Group Ltd. EMI has also considerably developed the property side of its business in recent years. A partial list of its properly companies includes: Associated British Property Developments Ltd. (formerly Associated British Holdings Ltd.), EMI Property Developments Ltd. (formerly Associated British Property Developments Ltd.), Associated British Properties Ltd. (formerly Forum Theatre Ltd.), Associated Cinema Properties Ltd., EMI Cinema Properties Ltd. and EMI Freeholds and Leaseholds Ltd. Turnover and Profits 1972

1971

1970

25%

24%

30%

26%

16% 6%

15% 5%

23%

20%

Turnover: Leisure (including tapes and records) North America 21% UK and other overseas 34% Entertainment (including film production and exhibition) 15% Television 7% Electronics, radio and television equipment 23% Pre-tax profit : Leisure (including tapes and records) North America 5% UK and other overseas 36% Entertainment (including film production and distribution) 22% Television 22% Electronics, radio and television equipment 6% Property development 9 %

Television in the company’s breakdown of turnover and profits seems to be exclusively that of Thames Television.

Thames contributed about £5 million to EMI’s pre-tax profits in 1972. The profits from its entertainment sector, which includes all its film and theatre activities, were just under £5 million.

The comparative profit margins from these two sectors of EMI’s activities are revealing: 1972 1971 1970 Entertainment 13-1 % 11-6% 11-9% Television 29-1% 28-2% 9-3% EM I’s film activities Most of EMI’s film operations come under two of its subsidiary companies: EMI Film & Theatre Corporation Ltd. and EMI Cinemas & Leisure Ltd. Unfortunately at the time of writing, the most recent accounts available for these subsidiaries were for the financial year ending in 1970 when EMI was still in the process.of reorganising its film interests, so the data available is not very useful. The figures do, however, give some idea of film finances within EMI: EMI Film & Theatre Corp. Ltd. 1970: Turnover (£ thousand) 23,406 71% Cinema, etc.

Production and distribution 3,813 10% 6.062 19% Other activities Total

32,651

The total turnover for ‘entertainment’ in EMI's 1970 annual report was £31,647,000.

Profit (£ thousand) 3,111 83% Cinema, etc.

Production and distribution (81) 2% 391 11% Other activities Share of Technicolor profits 308 8% Total

3,729

Anglo-EMI Ltd. which then operated as a distributor and producer for EMI Ltd. reported the following results in 1970 (£ thousand): Turnover 1,167 Profit 266 It is not clear from the accounts whether the group’s live theatre activities come under ‘cinema etc’, or ‘other activities’, but certainly the cinema sub-headings include

35%

30% 27%

16% 4%

22% 7%

12% —

EMI Limited

In the entertainments area, EMI owns The Blackpool Tower Company which operates The Opera House.

It also backs live theatre productions, and has recently built and opened a new theatre in London to add to its substantial theatre holdings in the West End and throughout the country.

EMI’s electronics activities cover a wide range of production from electronic instruments to fire prevention and security systems. The major emphasis is, however, electronic equipment for communications, particularly for recording and television. A high percentage of the colour television cameras used in this country are

* EMI is also in the process of increasing its non-theatrical film activities. It recently announced plans to produce television series for the world market, and it has established two companies, RM EMI Visual Programmes Ltd. and EMI Special Films Unit, to produce non-theatrical films. According to the company’s 1972 report, RM EMI Visual Programmes “secured a number of important orders during the year, including a contract with the National Westminster Bank to make an information series on European finance for film and video cassette purposes” . The principle activity of this company is, according to its articles, “ to produce and create programmes for Audio-Visual exploitation.” EMI Special Films Unit is currently making information films commissioned by the CBI.

GENERAL INFORMATION Financial Performance TABLE

55%

some other items, such as squash courts.

Profit margins for 1970 Cinemas, etc.

13-3% Production and distribution (2-1%) Other activities 6-5% At the date of writing, EMI owned and operated 233 cinema sites with 269 screens. EMI’s 1971 report discussed the development potential of its cinemas in these words: “Following the G roup’s acquisition of ABPC, the value and asset potential of each of its 260 cinemas have been studied and their profit contribution appraised. In addition to our considerable programme of cinema conversion and modernisation, we are developing both cinema and other sites for commercial purposes.

The results of this activity form a major part of the profits arising from property development.”

EMI’s other main film operations include EMI Studios at Elstree, which also has a considerable “asset potential” and MGM-EMI Distributors Ltd. Of the 100 £1 shares in the company, which was set up to handle domestic theatrical distribution for EMI and MGM, 51 are owned by MGM Pictures Ltd. and 49 by EMI Ltd. Anglo-EMI handles overseas distribution for EMI, and this company has recently opened a Branch in New York.* The Future of EMI There have been a number of City rumours about an imminent take-over bid for EMI. One report which appeared in the trade press was that the buyer might be Gulf and Western Industries, the American conglomerate which owns Paramount.

The American Majors

(41 %) 32%

Operating and associated companies Most of EMI's subsidiaries and associated companies are concerned with its music business, but a few are worth mentioning. In addition to its Film interests as % of: holding in Thames Television, it owns about 13% of Independent Television Total Company turnover News Ltd. and about 30% of 1972 1971 1970 1969 1968 1967 1966 Technicolor Ltd. It also has a 20-3 24-8 28-0 34-5 38-6 42-1 44-5 ■franchise, with Radio Rentals Ltd., for a cable television service in Film interests as % of: Swindon, and has just acquired 50% Total Company profits of an important electronics 1972 1971 1970 1969 1968 1967 1966 manufacturing concern in Italy which, 26-0 48-4 51-2 61-4 62-6 79-3 98-0 among other things, produces television sets.

Total Group profits 1972 1971 1970 1969 1968 1967 1966 EM I’s non-film activities 8-3 13-5 16-0 8-5 12-2 21-7 30-7 Music and records performance has Nevertheless, Sir John Davis been clouded by bad results from concludes his 1972 Chairman’s report Capitol Industries Inc. EMI owns with these words: “ . . . I am yet again about 70% of Capitol, but outside in the happy position to be able to the USA the company seems to be say that The Rank Organisation doing well. It recently opened a £4 continues to look forward to a million production and distribution substantial increase in its profits.” centre for the UK market. It has contracts with a number of major pop singers, including all four of the ex-Beatles. It has 28 retail outlets in this country. The sales of its HMV outlet in Oxford Street exceeded £1 million in 1972.

Recent history EMI Ltd., Electrical and Musical Industries as it was originally known, grew up with its record business.

Today it is still the main element in the company’s sales and profit columns. In the financial year 1971/2, 55 % of its sales and 41 % of its pre-tax profit came from its record and tape activities. EMI is one of the largest, if not the largest, record producers in the world. Its main labels are: EMI Records, His Master’s Voice, Music for Pleasure, and Capitol in the United States. In addition it owns record and music companies in about 30 countries throughout the world. In some sense the Beatles made EMI. The company's

manufactured by EMI. The company also has a number of important contracts for defence equipment.

Company

1967

1968

Columbia 6 MGM 14 Paramount* n.a.

20th-Fox 15 United Artists 17 Universal 17 Warner Bros.* 3 Walt Disney 10

10 8 n.a.

14 19 13 10 13

Profits after tax (S million) Accounting periods ending in: 1969 1970 1971 6 (35) n.a.

(37) 16 3 (52)** 17

6 (8) 2 (77) (45) 13 8** 22

1972

(29) 8 22 6 1 17 9*.

22

(5) (6 months) 6 (9 months) 30 8 7 (6 months) 10 (6 months) 24 (6 months) 25 (6 months)

Share o f market: ¡971 Ranking

1970 Ranking

* Gross profit/loss ** Excludes music division Source: The Economist, August 26, 1972, p. 59.

Share of U.S. Theatrical Film Rentals by Company: 1972 Ranking i 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Company Paramount Warner Bros.

United Artists Columbia 20th-Fox MGM Universal Buena Vista (Disney) National General Cinerama Releasing

1972 21-6% 17-6% 15-0% 9-1% 9-1% 6-0% 5-0% 5-0% 3-2% 2-7%

17% 9-3% 7-4% 10-2% H-5% 9-3% 5-2% 8-0% ' 8-0%.

3-6%

1 4 8 3 2 4 9 6 6 10

11-8% 5-3% 8-7% 14-1% 19-4% 3-4% 13-1% 9-1% 7-0% 3-0%

4 8 6 2 I 9 3 5 7 10

Total market shares do not add up to-100% in any year. Smaller companies, states-rights distributors and other independent companies account for the residual five to ten per cent share of the full domestic market.

Source: Variety, January 24, 1973, p.5.

Columbia Pictures Industries Inc. Sources of income (S million) 1972 Feature films Theatrical Television TV Programmes Broadcasting, records, commercials and other

110 34 37 60 Total

46% 14% 15% • 25%

241

1971 113 17 46

51% 8% 20%

47

21%

223

Figures for the six months ended December 30, 1972: Revenues 132 Pre-tax profit 4 After tax profit 3 Activities Columbia has recently merged a number of its overseas distribution networks and its domestic studio facilities with-those of Warnei Bros. It has also recently reached arrangements with a consortium of 14 American bgnks to~ provide a revolving credit of $180 million. It is promoting a number of non-theatrical exhibition systems: Tele-Theater for hotels and Cartridge Rental Network, a colour video-tape home viewing system. Columbia owns four television and two tadio stations in the United States. Its record and music division had the best year in its history in 1972. It is also involved in the production of television commercials and of educational films through its subsidiary company, the Learning Corporation of America.

RESTRICTIVE TRADE PRACTICES LEGISLATION AND THE FILM INDUSTRY PART II

casualty insurance and life insurance.

Food products include raw and refined cane sugar, molasses and furfural, and fruit and vegetable produce. Its manufacturing division produces J goods for “five broad market areas— aviation and marine; automotive and appliance; capital goods; air conditioning, signals and controls; and power and transmission".

Consumer products are almost exclusively cigars. Natural resources includes "pigment and metal powders, zinc metal and chemicals and minerals” .

METRO-GOLDWYN-MAYER INC. Sources o f income ($ m .)

1970

1971 Feature films Theatrical Television TV Programmes Records, tape and music Other

111 25 13* 20

99 32 19 20 1

Total:

169

171

Sources o f profit! loss Feature films TV Programmes Records, tape and music Loss on discontinued record distribution Other income Total: Interest deduction Income before tax and extraordinary items Income after tax before extraordinary items Extraordinary items

18 1

(10) 2 (3) 1

19 4

(10) 7

15

(17)

Leisure time division The main element in Gulf & Western’s leisure time division is the Paramount Picture Corporation which produces and distributes feature films and television films and series. Gulf & Western also owns Famous Players Ltd., the largest cinema chain in Canada with 388 cinemas, and Famous Music Corporation which produces records and publishes music.

Financial data (9) 10 . Turnover 1971 % (5 million) 1972 y 1 17 Net income/profit Theatrical 50 142 49 139 films N ote: T h e e x tra o rd in ary item s fo r 1971 seem to inclu de the sale o f M G M 's L o t 3 in C u lv er City Television a nd its A ustralian cinem as. series and motion Most recent quarterly figures: 44 16 43 15 pictures First quarter of financial year 1972/3 Theatre and 1971/2 65 22 64 23 operations 11 41 14 32 1973 1972 Other (S million) 34 36 Turnover 3 The main source of income for 2 Profit after tax Paramount in the two years given Extraordinary items after 4 0 above was from Love Story and tax The Godfather. The Godfather, which 6 ’ , 3 was made for £2-5 million is expected Net income/profit to earn about £60 million in worldwide film rentals. Paramount N ote: T he e x tra o rd in ary item s for the first q u a rte r o f 1973 include the a fte r tax p rofits from the sale o f has cut back considerably on its its B ritish music publish in g c o m p an y to E M I fo r production investment in recent years, $10 m illion. and has concentrated on reducing the chances of box-office failure. It Activities produced 15 films in 1971 and only 9 MGM has been involved in a long in 1972. Paramount’s foreign take-over bid by Mr. Kirk Kerkorian, earnings have remained at the same Chairman of Tracey Investment level, $45 million, for the last three Company and of Western Airlines. years.

Mr. Kerkorian has sold his interest in a hotel in Las Vegas to MGM. The company plans to develop this hotel into the largest luxury hotel complex T w e n tie th C en tu ry in Las Vegas. The hotel will be called F o x C orporation the Grand Hotel. MGM’s chief executive has predicted that this hotel 1971 Sources o f income 1972* will make a profit of $5 million in % ($ million) the first year of its operation. % 140 62 116 58 Feature films Television programmes 26 13 28 12 20 10 23 10 Film laboratory sales Foreign theatre 23 12 21 9 admissions etc.

12 6 Other 13 6 3 1 Sundry 2 1 8 9

Paramount Pictures Corporation

Parent company—G ulf and Western Industries Sources o f sales and pre-tax profit 1971 and 1972 Sales ($ million) 1972 % Financial services Leisure time Food products Manufacturing Consumer products Automotive replacement parts Paper and building products Natural resources Corporate and inter-company

1971 %

390 291 100 604

19 14 5 29

372 279 84 606

19 14 4 32

187

9

179

9

163

8

141

7

226

11

102

5

204

11

77

4

(3)

(4)

2,060

1,938

Pre-tax profits ($ million) Financial 54 37 50-2 38 services 15 21 20-1 Leisure time 31-2 18 19 24-3 Food products 27-6 21-2 16 Manufacturing 15-8 11 Consumer 12-4 8 11-7 9 products Automotive replacement 8 6 parts 10 7 Paper and building 8-5 7 products 8-6 6 Natural 4-4 3 7-2 5 resources Corporate and inter-company (20-3) (14) (16-0) (12) 146-5

132-4

Activities of parent company Gulf & Western is one of the prototypes of a conglomerate company. Between 1965 and 1968 it acquired ten companies with assets of more than £10 million. The companies ranged from an investment and financing company with assets of $1-5 thousand million to New Jersey Zinc Co.. Consolidated Cigar, and South Puerto Rico Sugar Co. Its entry into the ’leisure' sector resulted from the acquisitions of Paramount in 1966 with its assets of SI67 million and Desilu Productions in 1967 with assets of S16 million. By 1971, according to Fortune, Gulf & Western was the 74th ranking industrial company in the United States.

Its financial services include financing

Earnings Before tax and extraordinary items After tax before extraordinary items Extraordinary items

200

227

14

13

7 1

7 3

8

10

Net profit * (53 weeks)

Activities The company's laboratory is DeLuxe General Inc. Fox owns major chains of cinemas in Australia and New Zealand. It is also involved in a number of property development companies. The ABC television network rents a part of Fox's Hollywood studio, and Fox handles overseas distribution for ABC Films. Its foreign distribution operation also handles films for Avco-Embassy, Cinema Center Films and Walt Disney in a number of countries. Fox also owns and operates a number of music publishing companies, and one television station.

Fox’s 1971 annual report discussed the company's future plans in these -terms: “We believe that diversifying into related business activities will have the effect of broadening our profit base. We are convinced that we have ample opportunities in businesses akin to our own. We will seek investments or acquisitions in a number of fields, which include: Music. We believe that the music field holds further potential for us, . . . Non-theatrical audio-visual entertainment, and possibly some education-related activities; Broadcasting. We believe that there are still opportunities in this area with strong profit potential; Outdoor entertainment; Cable television systems; We will pursue opportunities to participate in the developing markets for getting paid entertainment into the home, such as via cable, video cassettes and other means."

United Artists Corporation Parent company—Transamerica Corporation Financial data 1972 1971 1970 Revenue n.a. 1,644 1,484 Profit 88* 62 43 •preliminary accounting Transamerica is the 6th largest ‘diversified financial company' in the

United States according to Fortune's 1972 listing. Its main source of income and profit is the Occidental Insurance Company of California, which Fortune ranks as the 21st largest life insurance company in the United States. In 1971 Transamerica's main sources of revenue were: Life insurance Leisure services Property insurance Lending services Real estate services Manufacturing Other

41-9%

18-1% 150% 10-0 %

670-7 %

Its sources of profit were: Financial services 57% Life insurance Property insurance 17% Lending 18% Computer leasing (8 % ) Leisure services Entertainment 2% Travel 7% Real estate 20 % Manufacturing Other ■Non-film leisure services The travel subsidiaries of Transamerica are Trans International Airlines, a charter company, and Budget Rent-A-Car. It also owns Western Film Service which is a West Coast laboratory.

(17%)

Garden State National Bank Net income

1972 Kinney and Warner set up as separate companies though they are still linked. Kinney is involved in real estate services, cleaning, construction, and parking lots. As can be seen from the figures given above, Warners also own a share of a New Jersey bank. In January of this year Warner Communications announced the completion of a loan agreement for 5200 million “for the construction and development of its cable communications business".

W a lt D isney P ro d u c tio n s Financial data 1972 Revenues Income before tax Income after tax Revenue sources : Entertainment and recreation Film rentals Publishing, merchandising, and music

Parent company—MCA Inc. (formerly the Music Corporation of America) 1971 334 22 17

1970 335 24 13

Figures for the first six months of 1972 show a net income of S10-7 million as compared with $9-1 million for the same period during 1971.

42

Other 9% activities: 4% Warner Communications leases Panavision cameras, lenses and related electronic equipment throughout the world. The company also controls the Licensing Corporation of America, an agency which licenses brand name endorsements by athletes, tennis, golf, and football players and have products which use such fictional characters as Road Runner, Bugs Bunny, Superman, and Batman.

Warners’ publishing interests include paperback publishing, magazines, comic books, and MAD. The company is also involved in graphics for educational and industrial uses.

Warners has undergone a number of corporate transformations in recent ■years, first as Warner-Seven Arts, then as a part of Kinney Services. In

U n iv ersal P ic tu re s

Financial data Revenues Earnings before tax Net income

50

1971 176 49 27

329 74 40

221 68 78 24 27

8

81 46 72 41 23 13

The massive increase in revenues and profits which appear in the 1972 figures are due to the opening of Disney's second amusement park, Walt Disney World.

The 1972 film rental revenue includes theatrical distribution revenue of about $69 million, almost 40% of which came from foreign distribution, and about 575 millions from Walt Disney Educational Materials, more than half of which came from worldwide distribution of 16mm films. Other activités include Walt Disney Travel Company and the live road show “Disney on Parade"._____

1971%

1970%

Film rental and related 195 58 220 66 income Record sales, music and related 88 26 73 22 Retail and mail order 45 14 35 10 sales 0 2 8 2 Other Film and Television Television Film

110 53 97 47

Other Activities: MCA owns Spencer Gifts Inc. which operates about 150 retail shops, 3 health food stores, and a mail order business. It also owns a bank in Colorado, Columbia Savings and Loan Association, which contributed almost 52 million to its net income in 1971. Like most of the other Hollywood majors it is involved in the “commercial redevelopment of studio land not required for motion picture purposes”. Some of its studio property is being used to build a hotel and for a new Technicolor laboratory.

The company also operates tours in Washington D.C. and in its Hollywood studios. MCA is developing a home viewing video-disc system.

Warner Bros.

Parent company—Warner Communications Inc. Financial data Revenues

1972 %

1971*

Records, tapes, music 215 42 171 45 86 22 Theatrical film rentals 144 28 Television film rentals 49 10 38 10 Publishing and related 66 13 61 16 24 5 21 5 Cable television Dividends, interests, 7 2 12 2 other income 510 TOTAL 71 Income before tax 42 Income after tax Equity in: National Kinney Corp. 5

384 56 34 6

Eastman Kodak, unlike any other major film stock manufacturer, started out manufacturing photographic film and then diversified into related areas of chemical production. Today, among other things, the company produces the bulk of filters for cigarettes.

Eastman Kodak’s two photographic divisions produce film and equipment for photography, radiography, professional motion picture film for education and entertainment, microfilm, supplies for professional industrial, and commercial photography, and the company also has its linked suppliers and processing facilities. The chemicals division produces and sells synthetic fibres for clothes, fioorcoverings, etc., plastics for all kinds of uses, and chemicals which range from industrial chemical products to vitamin concentrates.

Eastman Kodak is a typical multi-national company. In 1970 it had about 44,000 employees outside the United States. It operates directly in 41 countries and indirectly, through distributors and dealers, in 80 more. The company which eventually became Kodak Ltd. was started here in 1891. Kodak Australasia was founded in 1908, Kodak-Pathe and Kodak AG in 1927, Brazil in 1949, Argentina 1967, Mexico 1969, and so on. The parent company controls the vital elements: chemicals, film base, dyes, dye couplers, machinery, etc. Any expenditure over £10,000 must be approved in Rochester, the Company's New York headquarters. The vast majority of the expenditure on research and development is reserved to the parent company. In addition, Eastman Kodak has a virtual monopoly on the production of professional colour motion picture film. The company is the constant subject of anti-trust actions brought by other American companies. There are at least two such actions in progress at the moment. One of them is being brought by Bell and Howell. It has in the past been found guilty of monopolistic behaviour, but it has consistently found new ways of tightening its grip on the world photographic market.

The company plans to spend 5360 million on capital projects in this financial year. An article in the Kodak News of March 16, 1973, outlines the company’s overseas capital projects:

Eastman Kodak Co.

-

3,477-8 975-2 546-3 205-7 130-9t

1971

1970

2,075-9 788-2 419-3 164-6* 87-9*

2,784-6 756-5 403-7 148-2 76-6

In 1970, overseas sales were divided

Kodak Ltd. as a % of: Total Sales Pre-tax profit After tax profit

Foreign

British Isles & Europe

7 6

22 29

32 40

6

34

45

No precise break-down of Eastman Kodak’s sales are available but the company's 1970 accounts do state that J of the sales in the British Isles and Europe are for amateur products. A very detailed analysis of Kodak’s position in the amateur colour market can be found in the Monopolies Commission report on the supply and processing of colour film published in 1966.

1971 1972 762-6 709-0 9-6 8-6

As of December, 1970, 35% of the group’s fixed assets were in Switzerland, 31 % in the rest of Europe, 26% in North America, and 8% elsewhere. The group had about 68,000 employees, 12,000 of which were in the United Kingdom.

Analysis o f 1970 turnover: Pharmaceuticals Dyestuffs Agrochemicals Plastics and additives Photographic* Consumer products

29-0% 26-2% 21-6% 15-2% 5-4% 2-6%

•Ilford Ltd. became a wholly owned subsidiary of Ciba on the 1st day of November, 1969. This breakdown, therefore, only includes Ilford's sales for November, and December.

Ciba-Geigy (UK) Ltd. owns 10% ot Ilford Ltd. The remaining 90% is owned by the Swiss company. The UK company had about 7,000 employees at the end of the 1971 financial year. (£ million) Turnover

1971 5-5

1970 3-8

Ilford Ltd. The 1970 Ciba-Geigy report describes its photographic activities in this way: “ Photographic division sells to industrial, professional, and amateur users of photographic materials. The range offered covers films, plates, ‘papers and chemicals for general photography, graphic arts and x-ray use. Ilford is now the focal point of the division’s manufacturing activities.”

The 1971 Ilford report describes the company’s production in the following way: "A comprehensive range of monochrome photographic prcaucts is produced by the Company, principally for the specialist, technical, medical and scientific uses including in particular X-ray materials.

HP4 and FP4 monochrome film and ILFOBROM paper continue to be the Company’s major branded lines produced for general photography.

During 1971 new films specifically designed for Graphic Arts industry were introduced. ILFORD materials for colour photography on the other hand are supplied only to major contractors who market them under their own brand name.”

Financial data (£ million)

1971

1970*

Sales 34-4 30-5 Pre-tax profit 0-7 1-7 Profit/loss 1-1 (2-1) Employees (Weekly average) 5,017 5,303 Wages (yearly total) 7-3 7-8 * (14 months)

•estimates •(includes extraordinary item of S14-8 million from the sale of real estate in UK and Belgium.

• Kodak Ltd.—Financial Data In 1970, excluding interdivisional (£ million) 1971 1970 1969 sales, Eastman Kodak’s total sales Sales 88-2 80-7 73-2 was divided among the company’s Profit before tax 19-6 17-8 17-0 three divisions: 1970 figures: average US and Canadian Photographic Division 56% Employees (per week) : 13,380 Eastman Chemicals Division 19% Wages (annual) : £20-4 million International Photographic Fixed assets : £31-6 million Division 25% Interdivisional sales amounted to Taking Eastman Kodak's 1970 5260 7 million. accounts, the following figures result: Eastman Kodak’s International Photographic Division sales over the three years were: 1972 1971 1970 IPD Sales 1,018-7 789-7* 751-7-

38

Note: exchange rate of 52-4 to the £.

Financial data: (£ million) Turnover After tax profits

The capital cost of these projects will be about S90 million. In addition the US photographic division will spend 5179 million and the chemicals division S90 million.

(5 million) 1972 World Sales Earnings from operations Profit after tax Earnings from overseas Profit after tax from overseas

23 31

Ciba-Geigy AG is, according to The Times 1,000 for 1972/73, the 32nd ranking European company. It produces and sells dyes, pharmaceuticals, and chemicals. It is the second largest Swiss company after Nestle-Alimentana.

In Latin America: construction of colour sensitizing facilities in Mexico and completion of paper manufacturing facilities in Brazil.

In Australasia: construction of buildings for photochemicals production and warehousing at Coburg. Australia.

In Asia, Africa and Middle East: projects include completion of its warehouse and processing laboratory in Makati".

Financial Data In 1971, Eastman Kodak was the 28th largest industrial corporation in the United States by turnover (52,975,982,000), the 22nd largest by assets (53,298,032,000), and the 10th by profits (5419,305,000). Eastman Kodak shares at the end of 1972 cost $145 when shares in Transamerica cost about 515 and shares in Gulf & Western cost $30. Walt Disney Productions cost about $105. Its 1972 worldwide sales were up 17% over 1971. and its after tax profit was up 30%.

Fixed assets Employees 12

C iba-G eigy AG (S w itzerlan d )

continued construction of a research laboratory facility in Harrow, England; expansion of the headquarters facility and construction of a synthetic chemicals plant in France; enlargement of colour print and processing facilities in Germany; construction of new office, warehouse and laboratory in Finland and Greece; completion of construction of a new office and warehouse in the Netherlands, and continued expansion of warehouse facilities in Switzerland.

PARENT COMPANY 124 69 57 31

12 %

“In Europe: construction of an administration building and

« Sources of revenues

19 % 69 %

Canada and Latin America British Isles and Europe Africa, Asia, Australia and the Far East

*1971 figures have been restated from amounts previously reported to include the acquisition of Cypress Communications Corporation and Television Communications Corporation.

United Artists Corporation Financial data (S million) 1971 1970 Income Film rentals and related items 116 136 Record sales and related items 88 75 Profit/loss 1 (18) In 1970 there was an additional provision against losses on investment in film production of about $28 million, but this loss was covered by retained earnings from the previous year of $77 million.

UA’s profits from theatrical and television film operations showed a profit of S4-8 million in 1971.

United Artists Records lost S3-8 million in 1971. A press release on the 1972 performance of United Artists Corporation says that it, “enjoyed an excellent year, with film operations achieving the highest gross in its history.”

in this fashion;

2

3

1969 26-8 1-5 0-7 5,405 6-0

The loss for 1971 was due to a number of factors. Ilford has been involved in a large capital expenditure programme of about £5 million for building and machinery, a new emulsion making plant at Basildon equipped with “a new coating machine with on-line computer control laboratory”. Production on the new machine only started in 1972.

The company sustained losses tn disposing of two subsidiaries, Zonal Film (Magnetic Coatings) to Racal Electronics Ltd. and Britannia Works Co. Ltd. to Rank Audio-Visual Ltd., in the cause of product rationalisation.

There were also some accounting adjustments which are non-recurring.

The sales break down in this manner: 1971 I970Î 1969 8-3 10-7 9-8* Domestic sales 22-2 23-7 17-0* Overseas sales 13-9 16-1 12-0 of which Exports * estimate + (14 months) Ciba-Geigy’s photographic division3 also has units in France and Switzerland.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 183

Sunstruck The Adventures of Barry McKenzie Morning of the Earth Crystal Voyager Drouyn On Any Morning A Winters Tale The Cars That Ate Paris Promised Woman Between Wars Night of Fear Stork Petersen Picnic at Hanging Rock Alvin Purple The Great McCarthy Inn of the Damned Scobie Malone Sunday Too Far Away The Removalists The Box The Man from Hong Kong The True Story of Eskimo Nell Rolling Home Stone Stockade ~ Private Collection

The AFDC is proud to have played its part in the development of the Australian film industry.

Congratulations to the South Australian Film Corporation on the forthcoming release of its first feature film

Sunday Too Far Away starring Jack Thompson Max Cullen Robert Bruning Jerry Thomas and Peter Cummins

Executive Producer: Gil Brealey Directed by Ken Hannam

Victorian Film Laboratories

REQUEST FOR INFORMATION Name and Address .............. ............................................................ ................................................ ....................................................

I would like to receive free of charge complete information on

□ □ □ □ □

l’Avant-Scène Théâtre 23 issues per year, 800 plays already published

l’Avant-Scène Cinéma 11 issues per year, 180 films already published

l’Anthologie du Cinéma Complete encyclopedia: 8 volumes, 4,000 pages, 2,000 photos

les Albums-diapositives du Cinéma 6 library containers of 120 slides never before released; ex­ tracts from the films of Renoir, Elsenstein, Welles, Godard, Fellini, Bunuel ..

la Discothèque de l’Avant-Scène 20 integral recordings of classical and modern plays

• TAvant-Scene’s publications comprise 800 plays and 180 films.

• Integral text and photos. Foreign: 6.50 F. • 15,000 subscribers in 65 countries. .

27, rue Saint-André-des-Arts, Paris 6—C.C.P. Paris 7353.00

THE EXHIBITORS

The Exhibitors/Hoyts

Divorcement

We would hope to see the AFC en­ courage the production of bigger budget films; perhaps fewer in number than at the moment but which, by the availability of more funds per picture, would allow the producer to make an internationally competitive product.

Continued from page 124

The Australian Film Commission The chairman of the Australian Film Commission is, I understand, a person of considerable integrity and skill. Only time will tell if the AFC will work as well as its English counterpart, which has a wider spread of membership representing all sections of the industry and a nice b a la n c e of to ta lly im p a rtia l members.

I believe that the AFC, in the es­ tablishment of its priorities, may well place high on its list the present method of funding local product. It m ay well reco g n ise th a t the Australian domestic market alone is, with rare exceptions, incapable of sustaining an Australian Film in­ d u stry. It may conclude th a t Australian productions must be in­ ternational in character and quality and therefore that consolidation rather than proliferation is desirable.

The Exhibitors/Greater Union Continued from page 125

There is no cause for divorcement concerning Fox and Hoyts. I have already pointed out that Fox Film represents a relatively small propor­ tion of Hoyts turnover and that we trade heavily with other distributors, including independent Australian distributors, and we exhibit a good proportion of Australian Film.

TCF primarily looks to us as a reasonable profit'centre, and whether we show American, Australian or Afghan movies is of no great con­ cern. In fact if anything TCF tends to err on the side of encouraging us to be particularly sympathetic when co n sid erin g the p u rch ase of Australian product.

Censorship I oppose censorship, simply on the democratic principle. However I do not believe that the industry will benefit from the entry of hard-core productions. Overseas precedent, particularly in the United States, tends to suggest that this type of product is attractive only to a small proportion of the market, and at the same time has severely alienated a large segment of the cinemagoing audience.

Voyeurism is short-lived and, once exploited, theaters are left without audience. Hard porn denigrates the industry and leaves the conservative audience convinced that the cinema is no longer for them.

Divestiture I don’t quite understand what the divestiture issue is all about as the number of theaters owned, or their traditional location, is no longer the sole criterion for the successful ex­ hibitor — if indeed it ever was. ★

Interlocking pattern of ownership: Hoyts

Twentieth Century-Fox Film Corporation (U.S.A.)

100%

Twentieth Century-Fox Film C orporation (Australia) P/L 50%

__________________ il£ 2 % ______________

Cinesound M ovietone Productions Film Production P/L (Australian Movie Magazine)

Hoyts Theatres Ltd.

100%

Astra Theatre P /L Theater Lessor)

100%

J Associated Theatres P/L (Theater Lessor)

74.05%

_ The A nnidale Theatre Ltd. * Investm ent Company)

100%

_ Ozone Suburban Theatres P/L * Non-Operating)

100%

G lenvue Expansion P /L Drive-In Lessor)

100%

1 Auto Theatres (Aust) P/L (Drive-In Lessor)

100%

J The Ashfield Theatres P/L (Investment Company)

100%

y Ozone Theatres (Glenelg) P/L

100%

G reater Suburban Theatres P /L (Theater Lessor)

100%

100%

Australian Cassettes P/L (Non-Operating)

100%

, Ozone Theatres (Aust) P/L (Non-Operating)

100%

Hoyts C ountry Theatres P /L

Ballarat Theatres P/L 100%------- , (Theater Lessor)

100%

1 Hoyts Theatres (Albury) P /L

Ballarat Drive-In Theatre P/L (Drive-In Lessor)

, Beta Theatres P/L (Drive-In Lessor)

100%

100%

Pioneer Theatres P/L (Non-Operating)

100%

Times Theatres P/L (Non-Operating)

G loaming Theatres P/L (Drive-In Lessor)

100%

The lllawarra Pictures P/L „ (Non-Operating)

100%

Cam bridge Buildings P/L (Non-Operating)

Hoyts Cinema Centre P/L (Theater & P roperty Lessor)

100%

Incamera P/L (Film D istributor)

100%

W. E. Ham P/L (Non-Operating)

Hoyts Theatres (NSW) Ltd , (Theater Lessor)

100%

Liberty Theatres P/L (Non-Operating)

100%

Inland Theatres P/L J (Drive-In Lessor)

100%

M acroy Theatres (Randwick) P/L fN on-O perating)

100%

Joint Estates P/L (Non-Operating)

122%____

Rialto Theatre Co. P/L (Non-Operating)

Concessionaires P/L (Theater 100%____ Concession Merchandising)

100% -

Paris Theatre P /L

100%

100%

Petersham Estates P /L

100%

100%

Pubtix Theatres P /L (Theater Operator)

100%

100%

Roxy Theatres P /L (Theater Lessor)

100%

S uburban Cinem as P /L

100%-------

100%

W estern S uburbs Cinem as Ltd.

100%

, Omega Theatres P/L (Drive-In Lessor)

75%

Hoyts (Old) P /L

100%

,

Valley Theatres Pty. Ltd.

100%

Skyline Theatre (Preston) P/L t (Drive-In Lessor)

100%

M urray River Theatres P /L (Theater Lessor)

100%

A.D.S. Displays P/L (Display Manufacturing)

100%

A lbury Drive-In Theatre P /L (Drive-In O perator) •

100%

Adm inistrators Pty. Ltd. (Non-Operating)

100%

Cinem onde Theatres P/L (Non-Operating)

Kooyong Theatres P/L

Skyline Theatre (M oorabbin) P/L (Drive-In Lessor)

M etropolitan Tenures P/L 122%____ „ (Development Company)

;

Hampshire (Victoria) P/L ^ (Non-Operating)

100%

, National Theatres Corp. P/L (Non-Operating)

100%

100%

Regent Nominees P/L , (Superannuation Fund Trustees)

100%

Somerset Buildings P/L (Non-Operating)

100%

Victory Picture Theatres P/L (Investment Company)

75%

Hoyts (Darra) P/L (Non-Operating)

100%

Caruna Development P/L l (Investment Company)

100%

Hoyts Ozone Theatres C orporation y P /L (Investment Company)

00%

(Non-Operating)

West Australia (Hoyts) P/L (Non-Operating)

I think it mainly depends on where the Finance comes from, but I would say at least three to four keys. Let’s face it, down the line they are going to be Australian, but I would say it certainly should be an Australian cinematographer. The only excep­ tion would be if you have an overseas partner in an investment who is in­ sisting on a particular star or direc­ tor. I would say these are probably the only two areas where there should be some leeway.

Trade Practices Act Greater Union has, no doubt, examined the new Restrictive Trade Practices legislation. How do you feel Greater Union will stand if action is taken by an individual or company — which is provided for in the Act — against its vertically integrated struc­ ture?

I feel that most of the Trade Prac­ tices Act is based on the American legislation, and it is from the U.S. experience that we get most of the advice we have had. I don’t think anybody knows what is going to happen until there is a test case.

.

100%------- , Ozone Theatres Ltd. (Non-Operating)

Hoyts (Bondi) Ltd v (Investment Company)

Newcastle Theatres P/L (Theater Lessor)

^

100%

1

What is Greater Union’s attitude towards which key personnel on a production need to be Australian before it gets the label ‘Australian production’?

Censorship

(Ndn-Operating)

100%

100%

100%

Cinema & General Suppliers P/L 100%-------, (Non-Operating)

I have such faith in Picnic at Hanging Rock that I would certainly think it could do this.

j

Do you think we have gone about as far as we can go on the ‘R’ cer­ tificate? Robert Ward, for example, has said that he doesn’t feel films like “Deep Throat” and “The Devil in Miss Jones” should be exhibited here.

Do you hold the same attitude?

Yes, I couldn’t agree with him more. I think we have gone as far as we can go, and I certainly wouldn’t like to see Films of a hard-core nature in release.

Could we talk about the relationship between State and Federal authorities on censorship? I am thinking now specifically about the newly-formed Queensland Film Board of Review, with which BEF has had a couple of run-ins recently. Does Greater Union feel that the Queensland Board is an encumbrance, and that there should be only one central authority?

In my view there should only be one central authority.

The Tariff Board Report

Source: Department of the Media Planning and Research Section

As far as the Tariff Board is concerned, Greater Union is still a typical example of a vertically inCinema Papers, July-August — 185

THE EXHIBITORS

tegrated organization in which ex­ hibition and distribution, and to a very minimal degree production, are all channeled through the one cor­ porate structure, in fact, the Tariff Board recommended the divorcement of exhibition from distribution, and divestiture of certain theaters from the chain. What are Greater Union’s attitudes to those recommendations?

This is the way of the world . . . it is the way of exhibition world-wide.

It is even the way here in Australia, now that 7 Keys and Filmways have their own theaters.

If you look at Britain, they have two circuits — Rank and EMI. Both with the same style of operation. I can name you the circuits on the East and West coasts of the U .S., Singapore, Hong Kong and New Zealand, as well as Canada. It’s the same thing everywhere in the world.

There was a major attack on vertical integration in the U.S., both through legislation and the courts in the late forties and early fifties. As far as the major exhibition groups in the U.S. are concerned, it is true that distribu­ tion organizations, like MGM, by and large are totally divorced from exhibitors like Loewe’s Theaters.

Why is it then that when MGM have a big film it goes right through Loewe’s Theaters?

Are you saying that even if divorce­ ment were to take place, it wouldn’t affect the status quo?

No, it must affect the status quo, but this is also what killed the studio system. Look at the U.S., they are trying to reverse this decision and the courts are looking into it to see if it’s possible.

You could use the argument that big circuits are the only way the in­ dustry can exist. A good film will always find its market. This is the way of the film industry, and it is not unique to this territory, it’s world­ wide.

By the same token it would be true to say that if two equally good films were sitting on the shelf and one had been acquired by BEF, and one by an independent distributor, then things being equal, the BEF film would get the date.

Not necessarily. Everybody wants prior playing time, so it comes down to assessment. What is the key film for the key date? I’ll give you an ex­ am ple: Between Wars, which everybody here liked. We decided that Between Wars had a chance.

Now either Between Wars or Murder on the Orient Express could have been playing at the Gala Theatre at Christmas. Anglo EMI wanted a Christmas date for Murder on the Orient Express. We looked at it, and decided we would have it follow after Christmas.

We probably have more rows with BEF on dating than any other com­ pany, because we don’t like BEF to feel we are under an obligation. I am certain the same thing must apply in the opposition.★ 186 — Cinema Papers, July-August

Interlocking pattern of ownership: Greater Union

THE EXHIBITORS

The Exhibitors/Village Continued from page 126

Consequently, the Act has not made any difference to Village’s at­ titudes in relation to selection of theaters, because we believe it is our responsibility to act in the best in­ terests of the producer Concerned and select the theater most suitable for his film, giving consideration to playing time, terms and conditions..

Village, for example, still often by­ pass big films for their own theaters, because they feel they are more suitable for opposition theaters.

As far as Roadshow is concerned, ‘barring’ or ‘protection’ is no longer a part of our vocabulary. When a theater completes an engagement of a Roadshow film, we employ no restriction whatsoever from any competitive exhibitor starting that same film the very next day. Further­

more, if we open a film in one city there is absolutely no restriction on any exhibitior opening the same film in another city, providing that it is not harmful to the first person.

Basic-ally, we see the Act as something that encourages fair play and equity. We believe that if we ex­ ercise responsibility in the market, then we are adhering to the Act in the manner that it was meant to apply.

Interlocking pattern of ownership: Village

The Australian Film Commission Village and Roadshow welcome the Australian Film Commission as generally beneficial, and the spearhead for assistance to a healthy local production industry. Our opi­ nion of part-time members having a pecuniary interest in the industry is that it is essential, if the Commission is to have available to it the full range of the best brainpower from produc­ tion and distribution.

The proposed quota for shorts can only be of assistance to the industry in terms of improving the standard of short subjects shown in theaters, and more importantly, in giving young directors experience.

The Tariff Board Report The Tariff Board Enquiry, in our view, was very positive. It was probably brought about by a climate that had previously prevailed, where two sides of an industry, namely dis­ tribution and production — who must work together — seemed to have no proper dialogue, and were continually attacking one another.

In the general distribution and ex­ hibition business there were many people who were just plain negative and uninterested in Australian film production. On the production side, there were a number of producers who were making what could only be called experimental films, and yet ex­ pected to receive a broad commercial release, when they probably should have only been shown to the producer and his friends.

The Tariff Enquiry opened up the whole arena, and out of it has come an atmosphere where distribution and exhibition are now working with production people in recognition of each other’s problems with a view to ‘building’ films. ‘Building’ being the operative word, because we will only have an industry in Australia if there is co-operation and unity from all sections of that industry — from production through promotion and exhibition.

The Tariff Board report contained some recommendations which were positive and constructive, including the recommended establishment of what was then known as The Australian Film Authority, which was to have a budget to give direct grants for production and also to assist with distribution. At the same time, there were many misleading and inaccurate conclusions that could have been counter-productive to our industry’s real needs. But this is understandable when one con­ siders the scope of the Enquiry, as well as the fact that in spite of the sincerity and intelligence of the in­ vestigating body, a year’s theoretical experience in the film business would probably be as good as a year’s theoretical experience in flying a Concorde jet. * The above interview was conducted by Antony I. Ginnane and Scott Murray.

Cinema Papers, July-August — 187

THE FILM, RADIO AND TELEVISION BOARD of the AUSTRALIA COUNCIL P.O. Box 302, North Sydney N.S.W. 2060

Northside Gardens 168 Walker Street, North Sydney N.S.W. 2060

THE NEXT QUARTERLY ASSESSMENT FOR APPLICATIONS TO CREATIVE PRODUCTION FUNDS CLOSES ON SEPTEMBER 22, 1975

O u t t h i s m o n t h is t h e n e w C a t a l o g u e O f

F IL M F O R D ISC U SSIO N

I n d e p e n d e n t F i l m s . T h i s c a t a l o g u e is a l is t in g o f a ll t h e f i l m s c u r r e n t l y

S y d n e y W o m e n s F ilm G ro u p

a v a ila b le f r o m t h e A u s t r a l i a n F i l m ­

Jenny w o r k i n g in the t y p in g po ol, t a lk in g a b o u t marriage w i t h her g i r l­ fr ie n d , go in g sho pp in g , t r y in g t o dis­ cuss n e w ideas w i t h her b o y f r i e n d and her m o t h e r . A h ila rio u s ly h o r r if y in g f a m i l y d in n e r squabble ends th e f i l m b u t lea.ves m an y questio ns — a b o u t w o r k , relatio nships w i t h f a m il y and b o y f r iend, and w h at a y o u n g girl does abou t it all.

m a k e rs C o -O p e ra tiv e s .

Over on e h u n d re d pages t h ic k , the catalogue has listings f o r m o re tha n 500 film s . As such it represents th e largest c o lle c t io n o f A u s tra lia n f ilm s ( f r o m d o cu m e n ta rie s t o features) in the cou ntry.

The f o l l o w i n g f ilm s represent a cross section o f some o f th e f ilm s listed in this catalogue.

2 5 m i n u t es, b / w

W H A T 'S T H E M A T T E R S A L L Y ?

R o b y n D ry e n , M eg Sharpe, D a n y Torsh 12 m i n u t e s , b / w

S U N S H IN E C IT Y A lb ie T h o m s 11 7 m in u te s , c o lo u r

A t i l m a b o u t th a t u n m e n tio n a b le s u b je c t — h o u s e w o rk . Is it really w o r k a in yw a y, if so, w h y isn't it in clu d ed in

Sun y o u r m in d an d exp an d y o u r n o tio n s o f w h a t cin em a is and can d o : an eye-boggling d i a r y - jo u r n e y do co t h r o u g h the a rtist's S y d n e y 1971 .

C H IN A - THE R ED SONS Roger W h itta k e r 50 m in u te s , b /w

One o f th e m ost e x t r a o r d i n a r y events in c o n t e m p o r a r y h is to r y has been the Chinese a t t e m p t at c o n t in u o u s e x a m ­ in a tio n o f th e ir o w n so cie ty — the C u ltu ra l R e v o lu t io n . Despite the sexism o f th e f ilm ' s t it le (an error w h ic h th e Chinese themselves w o u l d never m ake . . .), the f i l m shows p l e n ty o f evidence o f "r e d d a u g h t e r s " as w e ll as sons, and provid es a rare o p p o r t u n i t y of learning a b o u t C h in a t h r o u g h A u s tra lia n eyes, sh o w in g t he experience o f a g ro u p o f A u s t r a lia n students w h o visite d the c o u n t r y in t h e late '60s.

the na tio nal accounts? W o u ld wages fo r " h o u s e w o r k e r s " s im p ly reinforce w o m en 's p o s itio n as the lowest paid w o rke rs in the system, or is a pitta n ce be tte r than n o th in g at all? Some surreal visuals examine these serious questions.

C O M E O U T FIG H T IN G N ig e l B u e s s t 5 0 m in u t e s , c o l o u r

An aborigin al b o x e r tra in in g f o r a challenge c h a m p io n s h ip b o u t, fin d s a g irlfrie n d among a g ro u p of activ ist U n iv ersity students w h o use him in a aboriginal rights campaign. C o n f lic t arises as his o w n people critic ise him f o r t u r n in g his back on his o w n kin .

The f i l m shows the d i f f i c u l t y o f being an aborigin al in a w h it e society.

YAKETTY YAK D avy Jones 8 6 m in u t e s , b / w

Y a k e t t y Yak is a f i l m a b o u t ' f i l m ' , a deliberate study o f arousing and de­ feating audience expectatio ns. It sends up the G o d a r d i a n cinema of p o litic a l c o m m i t m e n t , m o c k in g its d ire c to r 'star', and co-actors. The f ilm is ofte n very f u n n y a m id all the th r o w - a w a y com m e nts a b o u t f ilm as a the oretic a l weapon, a b o u t f ilm as a c o m m a n d o assault on re a lity , a b o u t the role of chance in the creative process.

CALCUTTA Paul C o x 28 m in u te s

A 'collage' on Calcutta w i t h original Bengali music and p o e t r y , the f i l m was shot on the tea m ing streets o f the

c it y and leaves yo u w ith the feeling of k n o w in g the people's life style f r o m the inside. It is not a fle e tin g to u ris t glimpse of p r e tt y pictures.

A T TICA C in d a F ire s to n e 7 9 m in u t e s , c o l o u r

On Septem ber 13, 1 9 71 , f o r t y -three unarm ed inmates o f A t tic a prison in N ew Y o r k State were kille d by state marshalls and over 20 0 were w o u n d e d in the most vio le n t c o n f r o n t a t io n in the U.S. since the civil war. The f ilm t e c h ­ niques used to d o c u m e n t these events are w o r t h y o f s tu d y in themselves as are the p o litic a l im p lic a tio n s o f the f ilm .

N IU G IN I-C U LT U R E S H O C K J a n e O e h r , Ian S t o c k s 4 5 m in u tes, c o lo u r

Scenes of village life and in te rv ie w s w i t h urban Niuginians d o c u m e n t w h a t is happening as the old an d stable cultures o f N iugini are th r ow n in to co n ta ct w i t h the c o n tr a d i c ti o n s of m od ern western c iv ilis a tio n .

W in n e r o f th e R e u b e n M a m c m lia n p r iz e f o r t h e be st f i l m in the; G r e a t e r U n io n aw ards. S y d n e y F ilm 1975.

F e s t iv a l,

A U S T R A L IA N H IST O R Y 2 0 m in u t e s , c o l o u r

Bruce Petty's fam ou s — o r in fa m o u s — an im a te d version o f the h i s t o r y of Oz Zany, u n c o m f o r t a b ly accurate and a visual delight.

LAST G R A V E A T D IM B A Z A 5 5 m in u t e s , c o l o u r

Black South A frica n s record on f i lm the experience o f living under a p a r t h e id .

The f i l m is essential i n f o r m a t io n — w h ic h we w ill never get t h r o u g h ou r o w n newspapers and tele visio n — f o r an yon e w h o wants t o understa nd the re a lity of the Sou th A f r ic a n pc d itic a l system.

BOOKED ANY GOOD FILMS

LATELY?

F or a n y o n e co n ce rn e d w i t h b o o k i n g f ilm s t h e F IL M M A K E R S C O -O P E R A T IV E S C A T A L O G U E OF IN D E P E N D E N T FILM S

Name ...

f o r 1 9 7 5 / 7 6 is an im p o r t a n t , c o m p reh ensive reference. In it y o u ' l l f i n d de tails o f over 5 0 0 m o s t ly A u s tra lia n film s.

F ilm s on th e f o l l o w i n g t o p ic s — A D O L E S C E N C E , E C O L O G Y , E N V IR O N M E N T A N D C IT Y L IV IN G , SEX A N D S E X U A L M IN O R IT IE S , O LD AG E, P H Y S IC A L A N D M E N T A L H A N D I­ CAPS, P R IS O N S , M I N O R I T Y G R O U P S , M I G R A T I O N , I M M I G R A T I O N A N D E M I G R A T I O N , W O M E N S ISSUES, C O M M U N IT Y A C T IO N , G E O G R A P H Y , F O L K L O R E , T R A V E L , E X P L O R A T IO N , A N T H R O P O L O G Y , F IL M S C H IL D R E N L IK E , C O M E D Y , H U M O U R , S A T IR E , R E L IG IO N , M E D IT A T IO N S C I E N C E , P A I N T I N G , S C U L P T U R E , C R A F T S , M U S IC , D R A M A , P O L IT IC A L F IL M S FR O M A U S T R A L I A , C U B A , EUROPE, T H E M ID D L E EAST, L A T IN A M E R IC A , N O R TH A M E R I C A , T H E U .S .A ., F I L M S O N F A N T A S Y , M A G I C , L I F E S T Y L E S , F E S T I V A L S , SP O R T S , E X P E R I M E N T A L F I L M S , F E A T U R E F IL M S A N D SHORTS.

Address

S Y D N E Y F IL M M A K E R S C O -O P E R A T IV E P.O. Box 217, Kings Cross 2011 N.S.W. Tel: 31 3237 M E L B O U R N E F IL M M A K E R S C O -O P E R A T IV E 382 Lygon St., Carlton 3053 V IC . Tel: 347 2984

Postcode Enclosed please f i n d postal ord e r ( ) cheque ( ) f o r ( ) copies o f t h e F ilm m a k e r s Co-Operatives C A T A L O G U E OF I N D E P E N D E N T F IL M S .

W hatever y o u r r e q u ire m e n ts th e re are possib ly f ilm s t o suit y o u r every p ro gra m needs. W r ite f o r y o u r c o p y o f th e catalogue n o w . Send $ 2 . 5 0 (includes postage) t o :

SOUTH A U S T. M E D IA RESOURCE C EN TR E P.O. Box 33, Rundle St., Adelaide 5000 S.A. Tel: 223 1600 B R ISB A N E F IL M M A K E R S C O -O P E R A T IV E 109 Edward S t., Brisbane 4000 O L D . Tel: 21 0987

PER TH F IL M M A K E R S C O -O P E R A T IV E 70 East St., Freemantle 6160 W .A. Tel: 35 1055 H O B A R T F IL M M A K E R S C O -O P E R A T IV E P.O. Box 1, K EM PTO N 7409 TAS.

THE 1975 SYDNEY AND MELBOURNE FILM FESTIVALS

Feature Reviews Continued from page 132

When David escapes, he heads for Paris but then realizes that he will have more chance in the isolation of the country. We dis­ cover that — according to him — he knows something that is so vital to ‘them’ that ‘they’ will stop at nothing to destroy him. In the country he finds a couple living in a ruined chateau. They persuade him to stay, decide to protect him, and finally set off with him in a desperate attempt to escape.

Meanwhile the authorities are spreading the news that a dangerous lunatic has es­ caped, one who gives every appearance of lucidity in his accounts of persecution (an in­ teresting estimation on the probabilities of this world) until he is threatened; then he kills.

At this point Julia (Marlene Jobert) and Thomas (Philippe Noiret) start to steal the show . T h e ir a ctin g p e rfo rm a n c e s are remarkable. They are both confronted with two coherent and probable explanations of David’s behaviour, which are mutually ex­ clusive. Thomas believes David; he has es­ caped from a political prison whose existence is completely secret. Julia is increasingly con­ vinced by the maniac theory, particularly as David is Threatening her relationship with Thomas (especially if he’s telling the truth).

Apart from the way the film is consistently terrifying, and apart from the rather ingenious and horrible way the question is finally resolv­ ed — which is just a little overdone — there are two very interesting aspects of this film.

One is the notion of paranoia itself. The audience starts off trying to choose between ‘real’ .paranoia (They’re after him) and ‘manic’ paranoia (They’re not). Then the two things start to merge, so that by the time we are told for sure, it’s not really the point any more. It’s a familiar idea that clinical paranoia is an extreme but accurate representation of conditions of the real world; but the film shows us that the opposite is also true. Even if David is not clinically mad, he becomes so. If his paranoia is justified originally, then he ends up at the point where he must murder anyone who comes near him, like a maniac.

The other thing is the fine handling of the development of the personal relationships of the trio. The woman, of course, loses; but for once in a way which shows very sensitively why and how. And it’s partly because, even if her perceptions are not always literally ac­ curate, her personal fears are perhaps the most reality-based of all.

Meaghan Morris

SNOW FALL (Hoszakadas) One of the more underrated films of the festival was Ferenc Kosa’s Snowfall, possibly because of its straightforward storyline.

However a closer examination reveals that Ko'sa and his cinematographer, the excellent Sandor Sdra, have put the resources of film to better use than some of the more flashy direc­ tors.

The film opens with a series of long track­ ing shots, in autumn hues, of a military en­ durance race towards the end of World War 2.

Abruptly the colours and shooting style change as we move into the long central sec­ tion.

Using an almost static camera and the lush greens of the forests and fields, Kosa shows the winner of the race joining his grandmother in a search for his missing father. They are captured by a border patrol, and after a series of cat and mouse interrogations, released.

They continue up the mountain leaving the forest for the steely grey of the harsh outcrops of rocks where they find the father.

Although they are recaptured, the young

soldier manages to kill his captors. He then returns to fight against his own side, while the grandmother dies in a snowfall.

From the fast tracks of the opening to the slow zooms of the final sequences, Kosa and Sara superbly show, in a purely cinematic way, the change in the soldier from^patriot to resistor without resorting to cliche devices.

They have combined dialogue and visuals simply and effectively.

David Pearce

STILL LIFE (Tabiate Bijan) When the old man who tends the rarelyused level crossing in Sohrab Shahid-Saless’s Still Life asks what his dismissal notice means, he is blandly told he can “take it easy from now on”. It’s a rather sick joke because the most important event in his life appears to be the operation of the level crossing gates.

In its depiction of the life of the old man and his wife over a period of a few days, Still Life is slow, elegiac and contemplative, a feature film which possibly is more informative about subsistence living in the Iranian outback than the most probing documentary.

Made with non-professional actors (with no credibility gap) who convey an impression of continuous imperturbability, small, routine gestures emphasise the more important oc­ currences. Since the temporal nature of Still Life is integral to its success, there is always an awareness of the time of day, and here the director is ably assisted by the meticulous photography.

Although a brief description of the film tends to be a bit intimidating, once one becom es accustom ed to the pace and realizes that this is not only a film about Ira­ nian life and customs, but also about a more universal theme — the indomitability of the human spirit — it is a totally rewarding ex­ perience.

Lindsay Amos

SUNDAY TOO FAR AWAY Though flawed, Sunday Too Far Away can be confidently hailed as one of the best features made in Australia within the last 35 years. It ce rtain ly ranks with C h a rle s Chauvel’s Forty Thousand Horsemen (1940); Ken Hall’s Smithy (1946); and, to quote one instance of overseas involvem ent, Ted Kotcheff’s Wake in Fright (1971).

Significantly there are links between Wake in Fright and Sunday Too Far Away, not the least being the best film work to date of actor Jack Thompson, and other performances that prove we have supporting actors every bit the equal of those more regularly employed overseas.

But while Wake In Fright focussed on a concept of Australian mateship revolving around an all-demanding allegiance to red dust, booze, and the ritual slaughter of animals, Sunday Too Far Away is more con­ cerned with men in isolation. Well practically, for the only women in sight are the boss’s daughter and a barmaid, and their sexual in­ volvem ent is w ell-nigh n eg ligib le. The shearers of Sunday Too Far Away are still bound by the same ethos as the men in Wake in Fright, yet their interaction, particularly their method of dealing with a newcomer, is far less open to sinister implication.

The film, however, is no more a b o u t mateship than it is a b o u t the 1956 shearers’ strike. And while the first half of Sunday is strong, the structure, overall, is at best episodic, the theme being allowed to fizzle after the petty jealousies have been es­ tablished, and very few tensions being brought to a logical head. We might have learnt more of the men’s antagonism to

Beresford’s (Sean Scully) letter writing, or of Foley’s rivalry with Black Arthur (Peter Cum ­ mins). But instead, the filmmakers have tried to sum it all up with a frozen frame of Foley preparing to lay into the leader of the shearing scabs — and it’s not enough.

As a multi-handed mood piece, Sunday Too Far Away continually calls to mind similar relationships in Howard Hawks’ Only Angels Have Wings (1939) and Cecil Holmes’ Three In One. All three films have their old-hands, raw recruits, survivors and non-survivors, and it’s largely due to Ken Hannam’s feeling for such relationships that Sunday Too Far Away works as well as it does.

While the epic undertones in the early part of Sunday Too Far Away are never realized, there is no doubt that these relationships developed by Hannam and writer John Dingwall are the most closely scrutinized of any film yet made in Australia. There’s just the odd feeling that what you’ve seen isn’t as much as you’d like.

Graham Shirley

25 FIREMAN’S STREET (Tüzolto Utca 25) It’s now 12 or 14 years since the intra­ revolution in Hungarian cinema took place.

One of the brightest and youngest of the new directors that the upheaval created was Istva'n Szabo, whose tenth film is 25 Fireman’s Street. The film marks no significant dramatic departure by Szabo from the thematic cons­ tant he has established in his previous major films: however this time he widens his focus to include other generations than his own for ex­ amination.

The film opens with a series of highly photogenic demolitions of old buildings in a sh a b b y -g e n te e l d ¡s tric t of B u d a p e st.

Doubtless these exquisite old buildings will be replaced by anonymous units (a suitably drab noun for what they are), but Szabo' doesn’t concern himself with the future. He looks at each of this particular old building’s oc­ cupants on the night before they have to move out.

It is one of those hot, sultry nights that happen in towns built in that kind of topographical situation (St Louis has them): people are restless and sleep is fitful — and dreams inevitable.

But the way Szabo has gone about con­ structing his film, it might just as well be the building that is dreaming, because the lives, hopes and fantasies of the occupants are all exposed along with their disappointments and defeats. He examines the living and the dead and interweaves their relationships, creating a complex jigsaw narrative. He eliminates any demarcations between dreams, fantasies and memories (indeed, are there really any?) and flows easily between life and death, reality and imagination — and sheer wishfui thinking.

The style in which he achieves this involves both objective and subjective techniques; characters speaking to the camera and mak­ ing their excuses and rationalizations as though to themselves. And no-one is excused, neither the living nor the dead, from making their statements: perhaps because their very existences are part of the fabric of the old apartment building now and are up for demolition too.

It is by no means an easy film because it is very d e m a n d in g until the re s id e n ts ’ characters emerge into recognizable profiles, and one is drawn on to Szabo’s levels and into his rhythms.

It’s not impossible, of course, that one’s satisfaction with the film erupts from a sense of accomplishment, a relief after triumphing over complexity. For whatever reason, I was very pleased with it.

Mike Harris

Cinema Papers, July-August — 189

AUSTRALIAN FEATURE FILM CHECKLIST

Australian Feature Film Checklist Continued from page 138 1950 Bitter Springs Ralph Smart The Kangaroo Kid Lesley Selander Wherever She Goes Michael S. Gordon

1951 The Glenrowan Affair Rupert Kathner Kangaroo Lewis Milestone 'Mike and Stefani R. Maslyn Williams

1953 The Phantom Stockman Lee Robinson The Back of Beyond John Heyer

1954 King of the Coral Sea Lee Robinson Long John Silver Byron Haskin

1955 Jedda Charles Chauvel Captain Thunderbolt Cecil Holmes

1956 Walk into Paradise Lee Robinson, Marcel Pagliero Three in One Cecil Holmes Smiley Anthony Klmmlns

1957 Robbery Under Arms Jack Lee The Shiralee Leslie Norman

1958 Smiley Gets a Gun Anthony Klmmlns Dust in the Sun Lee Robinson Night Club A. R. Harwood The Stowaway Lee Robinson. Ralph Habib

1959 Shadow of the Boomerang Dick Ross Summer of the Seventeenth Doll Leslie Norman On the Beach Stanley Kramer 'The Restless and the Damned Yves Allegret English Version: Lee Robinson The Siege of Pinchgut Harry Watt

1960 The Sundowners Fred Zinnemann

1961 Bungala Boys Jim Jeffrey

1962 They Found a Cave Andrew Steane

1965 Clay Giorgio Manglamele Funny Things Happen Down Under - John McCormick

1966 They’re a Weird Mob Michael Powell 'The Witnesses David Baxter, Frank Radd

1967 Journey out of Darkness James Tralnor The Pudding Thieves Brian Davies

1968 Time in Summer Ludwick Dutkiewicz

1969 The Intruders Lee Robinson It Takes Ail Kinds Eddie Davis You Can’t See Round Corners David Cahill Two Thousand Weeks Tim Burstall Jack and Jill: A Postscript Brian Robinson, Phillip Adams Age of Consent Michael Powell

1970 Adam’s Woman Phillip Leacock Beyond Reason Giorgio Manglamele Strange Holiday Mende Brown Little Jungle Boy Mende Brown Colour Me Dead Eddie Davis Dead Easy Nigel Buesst Sympathy in Summer Anthony I. Ginnane Nothing Like Experience Peter Carmody Squeeze a Flower Marc Daniels The Set Frank Brittain Ned Kelly Tony Richardson 'That Lady from Peking Eddie Davis

190 — Cinema Papers, July-August

1971 A City's Child Brian Kavanagh Homesdale Peter Weir Wake in Fright Ted Kotcheff Walkabout Nicolas Roeg Demonstrator Warwick Freeman Country Town Peter Maxwell Bonjour Balwyn Nigel Buesst Nickel Queen John McCallum Stockade Hans Pomeranz Stork Tim Burstall And the Word Was Made Flesh Dusan Marek The Naked Bunyip John B. Murrav Marco Polo Junior Versus The Red Dragon Eric Porter Shirley Thompson versus the Aliens Jim Sharman Night of Fear Terry Bourke Sunstruck James Gilbert Private Collection Keith Salvat The Adventures of Barry McKenzie Bruce Beresford 'About Love George Schwartz 'The Hands of Cormac Joyce Fielder Cook

1973 Alvin Purple Tim Burstall Come Out Fighting Nigel Buesst Dalmas Bert Deling Don Quixote Rudolph Nureyev, Robert Helpmann The Office Picnic Tom Cowan Libido John B. Murray, Tim Burstall, Fred Scheplsl, David Baker

1974 Yakkety Yak David Jones Alvin Rides Again David Bllcock, Robin Copping Barry McKenzie Holds His Own Bruce Beresford Sabbat of the Black Cat Ralph Marsden Stone Sandy Harbutt Number 96 Peter Benardos Petersen Tim Burstall The Cars That Ate Paris Peter Weir 27A Esben Storm Between Wars Michael Thornhill Matchless John Papadopoulos Wokabout Bilong Tonten Oliver Howes

1975 The Firm Man John Duigan Avengers of the Reef Chris McCullugh The True Story of Eskimo Nell Richard Franklin Promised Woman Tom Cowan The Love Epidemic Brian Trenchard-Smith Sunday Too Far Away Ken Hannam The Great McCarthy David Baker The Removalists Tom Jeffrey Inn of the Damned Terry Bourke Picnic at Hanging Rock Peter Weir Scobie Malone Terry Ohlsson Plugg Terry Bourke The Man From Hong Kong Brian Trenchard-Smith Ride a Wild Pony or A Sporting Proposition Don Chaffey End Play Tim Burstall The Golden Cage Ayten Kuyululu The Box Paul Eddy Angel Gear Esben Storm The Understudy Eric Luighal NOTE: In 1968 two Japanese features were shot here: 'Moepu Tairiku (The Blazing Continent) Sogoru Nlshimura 'Koya No Toseinin (The Drifting Avenger) Junya Sato In 1971, an Italian feature was shot here: 'Bello Onesto Emigrato Australia Sposerebbe Com­ paesana lllibata (A Girl in Australia) Luigi Zampa ' These films were apparently never released In Australia.

© Ross Cooper, Andrew Pike, Joan Long and Graham Shirley.

Steven Spielberg Continued from page 108

I like to take liberties with fact as long as it’s not a cop-out or where the truth has been altered. If I can preserve the truth and make it an entertaining journey then I would much rather do that than make a documentary of Sugarland in 16mm with a hand-held camera. Sugarland could have very easily been Battle for Algiers; I could have shot the whole film behind police lines with long lenses bouncing up and down. There could have been two-way conver­ sations where the only time you see the terrorists and the police car would be with a super-long lens over a cop’s shoulder.

In the early stages, that was one way I thought I’d make the film. But I felt there was valuable entertain­ ment in the subject matter, at least in the relationship that existed inside that car. Those people were all alike.

The two men were intended to be just like brothers, to look alike and act alike.

One rather popular criticism of “Sugarland” was that it lacked credibility: especially the endless stream of police cars moving across the screen . . .

To a certain extent I would now agree with that. But in actual fact, I decreased the truth. We had 45 police cars and no more in a caravan behind the hijacked car. In actuality there were 90 police cars which queued up and spent the better part of 36 hours chasing those people.

One of the things which influenced me to make that film was simply the image of that ribbon of red lights go­ ing to the horizon. I suppose I knew that it would be hard to swallow but it actually happened. It was one of the most amazing media events that has ever happened in this country.

Were any sequences edited out of “Sugarland”?

I very rarely lose sequences from films. I’m careful in that I start with a very short script so that I can add to it rather than subtract. When you go out on location, you’re working for performances and for visualiza­ tion of the film and, when you get back into town, suddenly you have three hours of film. Now, too often you have to edit an hour of it; that hour can mean weeks of hard work.

So I’d much rather shoot a 90-page script than a 120-page script.

Generally I don’t throw much away . . . I shoot a lot of takes and use the best one or the best parts of two or three.

Nearly all of “Sugarland” was shot on location; organization and pre­ production work must have been a problem.

It was. It took a lot of time to hire the drivers, to line the cars up and block the traffic. Logistically it was a nightmare. But now, looking back, Sugarland was virtually unhampered by problems (unlike Jaws). I think Sugarland went along smoothly because we all knew what we wanted to make and so we just got out there and went to work.

People see different things in di f f e r e nt f i l ms . In maki ng “Sugarland” what did you hope to get across?

Sugarland was a very important film for me to get out of my system because I’ve always been interested and slightly embarrassed at the way the television and the news media take a situation which might be very small and unimportant and then suddenly inflate it, making it very heroic and newsworthy. And so, what goes into making a common­ place story newsworthy is a lot of window-dressing, editorializing and sensationalism . For instance, although the Patty Hearst kidnapp­ ing took place after we made Sugarland Express, the two were very similar events. The Patty Hearst kidnapping was sustained and given fresh air by the news media and was made a top story for months and months, Then “Sugarland Express” must surely become an interesting compa­ nion piece to Billy Wilder’s “Ace in the Hole”?

Well, that was very intentional because I am a great admirer of that film and of course I’m a great ad­ mirer of Billy Wilder. But with Sugarland I wanted to go a bit further in that these media events not only changed the shape of opinion but also they changed the people in­ side the car, and I thought that that was very important. Because the media could go right to the source, it affected emotionally the people con­ cerned and, more importantly, it altered the whole natural course of the event.

Do you see it as a sad film?

Yes, it is a sad film, but I like to think of it as a bitter-sweet film.

Probably it’s sad because the central c h a r a c t e r s are caught up in something they don’t understand and which gets completely out of control.

Apart from Billy Wilder, whose other work have you admired on the screen?

I’m very influenced by John Ford’s The Searchers and a number of his other films. I’m influenced by early Stanley Kubrick: everything he does is all Stanley Kubrick. I ajways think of Paths of Glory as starring Stanley Kubrick and co-starring Kirk Douglas. That film in par­ ticular was an overstatement just as all his films are. The one thing about Stanley Kubrick, I feel, is that he is not a subtle man. And yet, he is totally entertaining. He can take a film like Dr Strangelove and walk the very narrow line between totally ab­ surd farce and contemporary realism and horror.

FILMOGRAPHY 1970: For ABC Movie of the Week — Night Gallery, The Psychiatrist, God Bless the Children. Plus episodes of the TV series Name of the Game, Marcus Welby, Colombo.

1971: For TV — Duel 1972: For TV — Something Evil 1973: Sugarland Express 1975: Jaws

POLITICAL CINEMA

Political Cinema: Intention and Effect Continued from page 145 Each of the early shots, as he walks through the town, have an unusual depth of field. The perspective lengthens behind him, in perfect focus. We see glimpses of courtyards behind doors, hidden places; and the presence of the young man becomes a means to order pieces in a pattern. The constant long-shots suggest a pressure to return to the source of a mystery, to turn inwards, to deflect attention away from any present complexity.

This feeling is reinforced by the dissolves between shots.

One sequence simply gives way to darkness for a moment before the next. Again the impression is created of a series of fragmentary recollections. These hajve far less to do with theories of personality types or social scrutiny than with an attempt to image a process of memory.

But The Spider’s Strategy is less effective when it deals with motivation, with causes, with rational explanation of behaviour. We don’t really understand why Magnani, the anti­ fascist hero, acted as he did. It’s not clear what sort of under­ standing his son comes to about his father. What really in­ terests Bertolucci is not the unravelling of the past, dissecting motive and opportunity and plotting. He is more concerned to discover brilliant and arresting images which indicate transfix­ ed emotional states. So his flowers and landscapes, his dancing -and music and tapestries steadily unfold and gather in a series of fragmented and frozen attitudes. People are caught and fix­ ed at a moment of crisis where several explanations might do justice to their decisions and actions.

What the real course of events was doesn’t interest Ber­ tolucci so much. He has simply focused on those moments in which the past appears to echo the present. It’s an intricate, formal study, an attempt to elaborate a brilliant visual design that catches and reflects ambiguity and uncertainty.

Characters become figures in a fantastic landscape, separated from each other. To say this is not to ask for philosophy or to set words against pictures. It’s rather to suggest moments of incoherence, an inability to deal with large questions that clearly push their way into a film on fascism.

So the focus remains on the relation between father and son.

Time is suspended, the son takes on the father’s role, though not the feeling. And what I’ve been trying to suggest is that the Style of the film prevents the relationships becoming any clearer. The fear of fascism is there, of the hectoring, brutal mob. The instinct of self-surrender towards a theatrical anti­ fascism becomes stronger. But any sharper definition is swept under the grand image of Rigoletto and the careful melodrama of Magnani’s death. The Spider’s Strategy looks as though it’s about resistance to fascism and perhaps the per­ sonality of the fascist. But the social background of the village is restricted to one man’s fragmented and often oblique recollections. The irresistible logic suggested in the title breaks down to a more gentle, more romantic and less coherent view.

Bertolucci cherishes illusions beautifully.

This is clear as well in The Conformist, a dazzling,-rhetorical film of brilliant inventions and studied effects. Its critical reception, though, has tended to stress the more obvious and least satisfactory elements. So Charles Champlin wrote in the Los Angeles Times that Bertolucci was suggesting that there was a moral degeneracy at the heart of the fascist experience.

And the corollary of this view: the film “has captured the twenties and thirties with a fidelity which is amazing.”

Contrary to this opinion, the success of the film seems to have nothing to do with attempted psychological or social realism. Bertolucci’s characteristic style transforms what we accept as reality from the opening scene. Clerici is lying on a bed, weary perhaps, resigned, yet tense and watchful, his hands - clasped in front of him. The camera, in tight focus, picks up the deep, subdued glow of a massive white chair cover. The notes of intense color contrast, just too strongly and vibrantly, implying a curious tension. This effect is reinforced by a mysterious telephone call. Clerici says simply, “What, she left with him?” Then, “ I’ll meet you in front of the hotel.”

The camera draws back and we see quite unexpectedly a naked woman lying asleep on the bed beside Clerici. There is nothing sinister in this, but it is certainly disconcerting. His behaviour so far has suggested a solitary intrigue, perhaps menacing in his curtness and restlessness. He takes out a revolver, pulls a sheet over the woman and leaves the room.

The tight close-up photography, the continuous glow of color and sudden contrasts, the elusive suggestions of intrigue in the telephone call and the momentary flash of a revolver create a complex sense of a personality — intense, anxious, even rigid, fussy and subject to sudden demands. Events simply occur and Clerici waits for them. He may have expected them but he does not control them. From the outset he appears as a character in a film, yet the drama becomes a projection of his mental and emotional condition.

The point here is whether Bertolucci can make a film that embodies in its texture and development the psychic distur­ bances he diagnoses in his character. It seems he doesn’t do this, but rather leaves a constantly vague and threatening feel­ ing in each of many different scenes.

Where Bertolucci makes political relationships specific, they

appear either trivial or obvious. Yet the brilliance of so much of his imagery, of his characters’ fantastic ritual behaviour, transforms the film into a more suggestive melodrama than a restrictive emphasis on psychological realism would allow.

The traumatic episode with the chauffeur, for instance, is simply too crude a device to sustain an entire strategy of adult betrayals. The relation between Clerici and his wife is too fragmented; they stand off and gesture at each other as she is simply and perhaps cruelly mocked, a figure of dubious nor­ malcy. And the relations between the four central characters, the Clericis and Quadris, are confused and blurred.

The whole incident with the chauffeur becomes, curiously enough, a succession of quite separate moments. This effect comes through the studied camera work, the rhetorical detail of the gun placed between the chauffeur’s legs, the series of bullet holes blasted in the crumbling walls and, earlier, the dance on the lawn as man and boy weave about the car. The suspense and interest in psychological effect is thus broken down, as though the two figures are playing out a charade. It is a ballet of gestures to do with command and submission. You remember the gleaming headlamps of the car, the shining flow of the chauffeur’s hair, the heavily grained bullet holes and the sweeping vista of the city lying silently below the actors.

This amounts to an attempt to freeze an appropriate emotional response to the dramatic situation, to distract atten­ tion from the whole to parts or moments in order to emphasize a lack of conscious volition or control by the actors. They are both playing games which directly and yet only marginally in­ volve the other person. Consistently through the film sexual contact is deflected into ritual; the bougeois girl falls predic­ tably from the couch to the floor allowing Clerici to escape her sexual invitation, the intimacy of their love-making on the train after they are married is broken down by unreal and romantic background scenery, Anna’s offer to give herself to Clerici is cut into a ballet class and the relation between the two women, Anna and Guilia, is heavily stylized in a formal dance sequence.

The film proceeds through this creation of intricate and for­ mal patterns, an attempt to freeze and express the essence of an emotional condition at a moment when several alternatives are offered to the characters.

But there can be no real decision because the aesthetic reconstruction of events dictates its own logic and necessity.

Places themselves are seen to embody the only kind of life that can be lived within them and characters simply accept that crazy necessity. So Guilia comes to life like a butterfly in front of the Paris dress shops or Anna directs the ballet lesson, where she can hope to resist and command Clerici.

The pressure to break down drama into farce, to subvert ex­ pectations of dramatic intensity, continues throughout the film. When Clerici receives his pistol from his superior in the secret police, he adopts a fighting pose, pointing the weapon one way, then the other, and finally at his own head. This reminds him he has forgotten his hat. Or at the film’s opening three pop singers are carolling a sweet and vapid tune while the blind man declaims that Italy and Germany have rediscovered their spiritual unity. The effect is not simply to counter-pose different elements of a popular culture, but to destroy a level of seriousness.

This seems quite deliberate on Bertolucci’s part, as though the conception and style of a succession of fragmented images were more important to him than their precise expressive significance.

The obvious anti-fascist demonstration is less interesting than the continuous pressure to photograph backgrounds and image characters in order to convey effects of emotional and volitional decay. Curiously, these are not related to the dramatic development of different characters. The film really progresses from one theater stage to another, each separate melodrama breaking down expectations of psychological or historical realism.’

The scene in the woods where the professor and his wife are murdered is the most abruptly horrifying of the film and the most unsettling in terms of the film’s own dynamic and ten­ sion. The repeated flash-backs have taken place from the car in which Clerici and Manganiello are chasing Anna and her husband, the professor. Eventually, they catch them up and the camera cuts from their car to the professor’s as a third car slides to a stop on the road in front of his, blocking his progress. Clerici’s car stops further down the road and the professor is trapped.

But he could swing the wheel and accelerate past the ob­ stacle in front. His wife is terrified; she has already pointed out the car following them. The professor understands about the fascists; Anna knows Clerici is a secret agent: both of them must suspect an assassination attempt. But he decides that-he must go and see if the driver of the car ahead is injured.

In any realistic terms this decision is inexplicable. He leaves the car to investigate and is repeatedly stabbed by men who appear through the forest.

The stabbing is cut with shots of Anna’s face frozen into horror as she watches a prolonged series of gyrations. The professor staggers round in a grisly and deathly dance, until

finally he lies still and the murderers approach Anna. She runs to Clerici’s car where she bangs on the window, screaming at him, whether in panic or fury, entreaty or reproach, it is dif­ ficult to say. He ignores her, only his eyes moving in his shadowed, impassive face as hers is pressed against the glass.

She breaks away and runs off, the camera remaining for a mo­ ment on the beaded glass before tracing her crazy escape through the forest.

Her pursuit is punctuated by echoing gunfire and slipping angles as the hand-held camera darts among the trees. She is shot and collapses, her face covered in blood. The entire se­ quence is introduced by a shot of vivid sunlight radiating through the trees to half suggest martyrdom or trans­ figuration.

But the essence of this lengthy sequence is the confrontation between Anna and Clerici. It is ambiguous and dehumanized; frightful yet unreal, and it deflects rather than intensifies the horror of the professor’s murder. This is the critical point in the film where the pressure to break down drama into a mess of insinuation conflicts radically with the development of the story. Quadri’s slow and staggering dance as he is stabbed appears grotesque and cruel. And the long moment between Anna and Clerici ends with an entirely inappropriate shot of water trickling down the glass, as though there is now nothing between them. This sort of poetizing makes trivial two graphic murders and Clerici’s most complete betrayal.

He is really a figure around which Bertolucci organizes and unfolds a decorative pattern. The essence of this pattern is its disconnection, the way in which drama repeatedly breaks down into farce or aesthetic contemplation. One scene after another embodies a range of elusive and suggestive images, as though Bertolucci doesn’t have full control over them.

What he does impressively is to create these stylized moments that express an emotional flux, an opportunity for action that is never seized. Yet these episodes constitute a chain, a dramatic development. And this is where the film doesn’t succeed. Bertolucci has yet to find a means of dramatic progression to accommodate his startling imagery.

In this view, then, his films have little to do with attempts to depict the condition of society in which fascism developed.

They do not attempt to describe the personality type that may have been attracted to fascism, nor the resistance to fascist repression. Equally, both films resist being pocketed into any theory of relationships between sex and politics. The story line of The Conformist and the broad explanation put forward for Clerici’s behaviour conflict with the continuous attempt to break down the story and the need for explanation. ' The Spider’s Strategy and The Conformist illustrate a fan­ tastic attempt by individuals to take on a political world, to play at politics, outfitting themselves with the necessary weapons and attitudes. Political intrigue and action simply refract much more mysterious and perhaps half-suggestive attempts to reconstruct the past.

Bertolucci’s films engage a radically different understanding of politics and drama from those of Costa-Gavras. The prolonged and doubtful arguments about homosexuality and fascism seem not to apply to either filmmaker, although for different reasons. And the overall attempt to assimilate them both to a declared ‘genre’ of political cinema ignores specific differences in the work of both directors.

Costa-Gavras’ films attempt to map out relations between individuals who represent different kinds of institutions. He characterizes the oppressive and intrusive nature of the state through the sheer scale and authority of its covert operations.

Although even this is to claim too much; for Costa-Gavras the state exists as a dictatorship prepared to exercise any con­ ceivable violence in order, presumably, to retain power.

The relationship between suppressing dissent and retaining power is never made clear. It is simply assumed that one is necessary in a fairly fixed ratio to the other. So authority figures are rigid, unyielding and humorless; dissenters energetic and compassionate. An initial conviction about the inherent evil of particular regimes and the moral necessity of resistance shapes the dramatic development of the films.

This approach has more in common with Elio Petri than Bertolucci, though again there are important differences.

Bertolucci attempts nothing of Costa-Gavras’ kind of realism. His exquisite interiors of the twenties and thirties don’t reflect directly on the moods and characters of in­ dividuals, but seem to embody private life that stems from in­ tense, brittle emotional encounters. These appear to spin out in a series of relationships that are continually being consumed, as though each incident exhausts the implications that can be drawn from it.

Costa-Gavras’ editing for continued suspense could hardly be more different.

So, as in the scene of the chauffeur’s attempted seduction, Bertolucci is continually breaking down expectations of a dramatic development in any simple, continuous way. At the same time his films implicitly deny any cumulative diagnosis of fascism’s inner spirit and, more importantly, in view of what’s been made of them, they undercut the value of any theoretical analysis carried out in such sweeping terms. ★ Cinema Papers, July-August — 191

CUE ASIAN NEIGHBOURS SERIES TEN EILHS

RRORUCERBy El LU AUSTRALIA

OUR ASIAN NEIGHBOURS is a programme of films which aims to convey everyday life in Asia. The first of the series, covered Thailand. This series is devoted to Indonesia and brings to life its people, customs and their music.

Each film captures the lifestyle of the people in their own environment and vividly identifies with the viewer.

These films are made so as to stimulate interest in and to promote a greater understanding of our asian neighbours.

The stories are told with visual impact and the music is, in most cases, the actual sounds recorded on location; the actors are the people themselves who live, work and play in this absorbing and fascinating region.

FILM AUSTRALIA

Eton Road Lindfield (PO Box 46 Lindfield) NSW 2070 Australia Telephone 463241 Telegrams 'Filmaust' Sydney Telex 22734

British and U.S. enquiries through Australian Government Film Representatives: Canberra House, 10-16 Maltravers Street, The Strand, London. WC2R 3EH. Australian Information Service, 636 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10020, and at all Australian official posts abroad.

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DEPARTMENT OF THE MEDIA

Colorfilm will extend its film laboratory service into the video tape world this year 1975 and will provide a film to tape, tape to tape, and tape to film service with CMX on-line electronic edit facility.

VIDEO TAPE LABORATORY 2 Clarendon St., Artarmon. SYDNEY 439 5922

FILM LABORATORIES SYDNEY: 35 Missenden Rd., Camperdown. 516 1066 MELBOURNE: CINEVEX 53 1151

ra la's tavourire premium CARLTON

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