Cinema Papers No.95 October 1993

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COVER:^; JO ANNA WEIR AS JO^5 IN LYNN-MAREE MILBURN'S MEMORIES & DREAMS

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OCTO BER 1993 NUMBER 95 INCORPORATING FÜMVICWS

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MEMORIES & DREAMS: LYNN-MAREE MILBURN, JULIE STONE, ANDREW DE GROOT INTERVIEW BY SCOTT MURRAY AND ALISSA TANSKAYA

12

PISTOLS AT DAWN: THE SCIENCE OF PREVIEWS MB MMMM RICHARD FRANKLIN

22

JOHN DINGWALL: ‘THE CUSTODIAN1 INTERVIEW BY ANDREW L. URBAN

MOCU(DOCU)MENTARy MINI-SUPPLEMENT 28

‘MAN BITES DOG*: DOCUMENTARY THEORY AND OTHER ANDALSIAN ETHICS SHANE McNEIL

31

TOM ZUBRYCKI:‘HOMELANDS’ REVIEW AND INTERVIEW BY MARGARET SMITH

ADMINISTRATIVE

MANX GE R

33

J Brodle Hanns MTV

B 0 A R. D

Of

D IRECTORS

Chris Stewart [Acting Chairman],

REVIEW BY ANNA DZENIS AND INTERVIEW BY RAFFAELE CAPUTO

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Patricia Amad, Ross Oimsey, Natalie Miller ,LEGAL

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Dan Pearce

JOHN HUGHES: ‘ONE WAY STREET’ AUSTRALIA’S FIRST FILMS 1894-96: FACTS AND FABLES* PART FIVE CONTINUING HISTORICAL FEATURE BY CHRIS LONG

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FILM REVIEWS GREENKEEPING KARL QUINN

Holding Redlich; Solicitors

GROSS MISCONDUCT GREG KERR ABVER TI SING

MORTE Dl UN MATEMATICO NAPOLETANO

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[DEATH OF A NEAPOLITAN MATHEMATICIAN) JOHN CONOMOS SUBSCRIPTIONS

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LINDSAY AMOS is a freelance writer on film; DOMINIC CASE is a motion picture technical consultant; JUNIOR CAT Is a music graduate who peppers his' life with occasional film and book' reviews; ” JOHN CONOMOS lectures at the College of Fine Arts,, University of NSW; ANNA DZENIS is a tutor'ijvCinema Studies at LaTrobe University, Melbourne; RICHARD FRANKLIN is the director of ^Psycho II’ and 'Cloak and Dagger’ among others; ' PAT GILLESPIE is a freelance writer; IVAN HUTCHINSON is the .film reviewer for. the Herald-Sun, Melbourne; GREG KERR is a cafe owner and freelance writer; CHRIS LONG is a Melbourne film historian; PETER MALONE is Editor of ‘Compass Theology Review’ ; BRIAN McFARLANE is an Associate Professor in the*English Department at Monash, University;

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McNEIL is lecturer on film at Flinders University; KARL QUINN is a freelance writer on film; MARGARET SMITH is a

Sydney based filmmaker and writer; ALISSA TANSKAYA is a Melbourne filmmaker; R. J. THOMPSON teaches Cinema Studies at La Trobe University; ANDREW L. URBAN is the Australian correspondent for Moving Pictures International', RAYMOND YOUNIS is a lecturer at the University of Sydney and a passionate lover of films.

B R I E F L Y

1 9 9 3 AFI A W A R D N O M I N A T I O N S FEATURE FILM NOM INATIONS

Best Original Music Score

Best Achievement in Cinematography

Best Film

Francon Piersanti, On My Own

The Piano, Jan Chapman

Michael Nyman, The Piano Gabriel Yared, Map of the Human Heart Anthony Marinelli, Billy Childs, My Forgotten Man

in a Non-Feature Film Kangaroos - Faces in the Mob, Glen Carruthers

Map of the Human Heart, Tim Bevan, Vincent Ward, Timothy White The Heartbreak Kid, Ben Gannon On My Own, Leo Pescarolo, Will Spencer, Rosa Colosimo, Elisa Resegotti, Lael McCall, Stavros Stravrides Newvision Film Distributors Award for Best Achievement in Direction Jane Campion, The Piano Michael Jenkins, The Heartbreak Kid Vincent Ward, Map of the Human Heart James Ricketson, Blackfellas Cinesure Award for Best Original Screenplay Bob Ellis, The Nostradamus Kid Gill Dennis, Antonio Tibaldi, John Frizzell, On My Own Chris Kennedy, This Won’t Hurt a Bit! Jane Campion, The Piano Best Screenplay A dapted from Another Source James Ricketson, Blackfellas John Tatoulis, Jon Stephen, The Silver Brumby David Holman, No Worries Kevin Lucas, Black River

Spectrum Films Award for

Best Achievement in Sound in a Non-Feature Film The Resting Place, Anne McKinolty Opportunity Knocks, Phil Winters Exile and the Kingdom, Noelene Harrison, Lawrie Silverstrin, Kim Lord

Map of the Human Heart Stewart Young, Resistance Veronika Jenet, The Piano Michael Honey, The Custodian Soundfirm Award for

Best Achievement in Editing in a Non-Feature Film

Ross Linton, Nick Holmes, Shotgun Wedding Lee Smith, Tony Johnson, Gethin Creagh, Peter Townsend, Annabelle Sheehan, The Piano Andrew Plain, Gethin Creagh, Map of the Human Heart Penn Robinson, Jeanine Chialvo, Paul Brincat, Broken Highway

Range of Experience, Anne Pratten The Good Son, Sean Cousins, David Rowe

Best Achievement in Production Design MacGregor Knox, Resistance Andrew McAlpine, The Piano Lesley Crawford, Broken Highway Chris Kennedy, Say a Little Prayer

Jacqueline McKenzie, This Won’t Hurt a Bit! Claudia Karvan, Broken Highway

Lynn-Maree Milburn, Jacqui Everitt, Say a Little Prayer Roger Ford, The Nostradamus Kid

Anthony LaPaglia, The Custodian John Moore, Blackfellas AGFA Award for Best Performance by an Actress in a Supporting Rôle Judy Davis, On My Own Kris McQuade, Broken Highway Kerry Walker, The Piano Jill Forster, Say a Little Prayer Telecom M obilenet Award for Best Perf­ ormance by an Actor in a Supporting Rôle Nico Lathouris, The Heartbreak Kid Barry Otto, The Custodian Sam Neill, The Piano David Ngoombujarra, Blackfellas Samuelson Award for Best Achievement in Cinematography Stuart Dryburgh, The Piano Eduardo Serra, Map of the Human Heart Steve Mason, Broken Highway ¡Stephen F. Windon, No Worries Vic Sarin, On My Own 2 • CINEMA

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The Sleep of Reason, Gareth Vanderhope, Ralph Ortner

Best Achievement in Sound John Dennison, Tony Vaccher, John Patterson,

Best Achievement in Costume Design Fiona Spence, Frauds Aphrodite Kondos, Gross Misconduct Janet Patterson, The Piano

Harvey Keitel, The Piano Matthew Ferguson, On My Own

Heart of Pearl, Susan Thwaites

Best Achievement in Editing John Scott, George Akers,

AGFA Award for Best Performance by an Actress in a Leading Rôle Holly Hunter, The Piano Fiona Ruttelle, Say a Little Prayer

Hoyts Group Award for Best Performance by an Actor in a Leading Rôle

The Journey, Dion Beebe Spring Ball, Peter Coleman

NON-FEATURE FILM NOMINATIONS Best Short Fiction Mr Electric, Stuart McDonald Opportunity Knocks, Mick Connolly Terra Nullius, Anne Pratten Heart of Pearl, Andrew G. Taylor Best Animation Arnold Has a Thought, Peter McDonald The Darra Dogs, Dennis Tupicoff The Web - Bandicoot, Lucinda Clutterbuck, Sarah Watt A Saucer of Water for the Birds, Ann Sheffield Best Documentary Exile and the Kingdom, Frank Rijavec For AH the World to See, Pat Fiske Homelands, Tom Zubrycki The Journey, Christopher Tuckfield Best Screenplay in a Short Film Just Desserts, Monica Pellizzari Mr Electric, Stuart McDonald Black Dogs, Andrew Sully Terra Nullius, Anne Pratten

Gumshoe, Suresh Ayyar Everest - Sea to Summit, Michael Balson Open Craft Award Memories & Dreams, Lynn-Maree Milburn (for innovation in form) One Way Street, John Hughes (for innovation in form) Etcetera in a Paper Jam, Michael Bates (for technical excellence) Heart of Pearl, Catherine Mansill (for production design)

First and Second 1993 FFC Film Fund selections announced The FFC’s Chief Executive Mr John Morris has announced that Spider and Rose and Country Life have been selected for the 1993 Film Fund.

Spider and Rose will be directed by Bill Bennett, who also wrote the script. The producers are Lyn McCarthy and Graeme Tubbenhauer. It will star Ruth Cracknell and Simon Bossell in a bitter-sweet comedy about an elderly woman and a young man who embark on a series of adventures which help them shake off the past and find freedom.

Country Life is about a young Englishwoman who comes to live at an Australian country prop­ erty. Michael Blakemore wrote the screenplay and will direct the film. Sydney-born Blakemore is an internationally acclaimed director and a novelist.

In addition to staging numerous hit plays and musicals in the UK, U.S. and Europe overthe past three decades (winning four Tony nominations for Noises Off, A Day in the Death of Joe Egg, Lettice & Lovage and City of Angels), he has written and directed a number of films. His film work includes Privates On Parade and A Personal History of the Australian Surf: Being the Confessions of a Straight Poofter, which he wrote and directed.

Robin Dalton, the producer of Country Life, produced Madame Sousatzkca, 1984and Emma’s

War, and her current work is Oscar and Lucinda, in collaboration with Laura Jones and Gillian Armstrong.

Greta Scacchi, Sam Neill and John Hargreaves will star in Country Life.

United International Pictures (UIP) will distrib­ ute the film in Australia and New Zealand. South­ ern Star is the international sales agent.

“This project will bring together a high calibre team of creative people with international reputa­ tions” , said John Morris.

mains (Denys Arcand, Canada), The Baby of Macon (Peter Greenaway, UK), Trois Couleurs Bleu (Krzystof Kieslowski, Poland-France), La Crise (Coline Serreau, France), Daens (Styn Coninx, Belgium-France-Holland), The Scent of Green Papaya (Tran Anh Hung, France-Vietnam) and the eagerly-awaited Hélas Pour Moi (Jean-Luc Godard). These films were mostly selected from script to production level by managing director, Frank Cox. This is surely a record for an independ­ ent film distributor in Australia.

380 LYGON ST, CARLTON. PH 347 5331 From the director and star of RAISE THE RED LANTERN and JU DOU

Morris explained that there were a number of other projects under consideration which were undergoing further script development. The Fourth Film Fund, which closed on 31 March this year with 42 applications, was for films with budgets of up to $3.5 million. Southern Star is the sales agent for the Fund and has been engaged in the selection process.

WIFT Australia Women in Film and Television (WIFT) has gone national. Women directors constituted 80% of Australian films pre-selected for Cannes in 1993, yet constitute only 22% of Australian film and video directors.

Recent studies, prepared by the Australian Film Commission, Office for the Status of Women and the national Working Party on the Portrayal of Women in the Media, revealed that women are still under-represented in key creative, financial and technical rôles in the film and video industries, as well as limited in their opportunities and rôles as performers on screen. Over the past two years, only 25% of Australian feature films have centred on leading female roles.

September saw the launch of WIFT Australia as an incorporated association which aims to im­ prove the status of women in the Australian film, television and video industries.

With active members across five states (WA, SA, Old, NSW and Vic.), and international links to Women in Film in both Britain and the U.S., WIFT Australia will be an advocate for the vision of an Australian film culture which encourages cultural diversity and the equal participation of women at every level.

A multiplicity of cultural viewpoints is essential to the on-going viability of the Australian film and television industry. WIFT Australia will lobby gov­ ernment organizations and the industry itself, im­ plementing campaigns which target areas of un­ der-representation.

• • • • •

A new vision on shorts At the close of this year’s Melbourne International Film Festival, Frank Cox of the Kino Cinema (and Newvision Films) announced a policy of screening short films to accompany their late shows. He wasn’t kidding! The Kino Cinema is a major sponsorof the short film awards atthe Festival, so if you have a short you would like to see on the big screen the deal is still on. For further inquiries ring the Kino on 650 2100.

Frank Cox has also announced that Newvision Film Distributors has an unprecedented eight titles screening at the 1993 Toronto International Film Festival of Festivals. These titles are Belle Epoque (Fernando Trueba, Spain), Love and Human Re­

Call for entries The St Kilda Film Festival is an annual cultural event showcasing recent Australian short films.

Entries are now being accepted for the 11th St Kilda Film Festival to be held in April 1994.

Audition tapes must be submitted on VHS and promotional stills should be included with entries.

Other publicity material can be submitted when notified of pre-selection.

Audition tape deadlines: For films completed priorto 30 November: 17 December 1993 Forfilms completed after 30 November: 25 February 1994 All entry forms must be received by 17 December 1993. Entries received in previous years will be considered provided they have been entered only once before. There are no entry fees.

WINNER - GOLDEN LION AWARD V E N IC E F IL M F E S T 1 9 9 3 Best Picture, Best Actress

;

For entry forms and further information call Michelle Truckenbrodt on (03) 536 1397.

Letter Andrée-Anne Jackel’s “Why the French had to love The LoveT (Cinema Papers, no. 92, pp. 1419) prompted a letter from Adrian Martin (no. 93, p.

2), in which he wrote: Andrée-Anne Jackel ends her article [...] with the implication that the late Serge Daney, surveying the rotten state of French cinema, chose to publish his last “English-language article” on the film in Sight and Sound. Daney never wrote an Englishlanguage article to my knowledge. The ‘transla­ tor's introduction’ to the Daney piece on The Lover clearly states that it first appeared in Libération, which somewhat obviates Jackel’s point.

E X C L U S IV E S E A S O N C O M M . L A TE O C TO B E R NOMINATED: AFI AWARD 1993 ■ REST DOCUMENTARY A film by Tom Zubrycki.

A documentary portrait oi marriage - the story oi Maria and Carlos, refugees from the war in El Salvador. Homelands is a story typical of so many | refugees caught in the dilemma of deciding where they want to live and where they ultimately belong.

Jackel has since replied: The late French critic Serge Daney did first publish his damning article on The Lover in Libération, the Left-wing daily to which he contributed quite regu­ larly. However, it was Daney’s personal decision to propose his article to Sight and Sound for publication in English, almost as if to alert the English-speaking cinéphile world that the state of film criticism was not what it used to be in France and that to-day's new promotion techniques, com­ bined with the self-enhancing visual style of cer­ tain filmmakers, could strike a fatal blow to cinema (as he saw it, essentially an art form).

Far from “obviating the point” I was making, Daney’s determination that his opinion be known outside the small French readership he first addressed seems to me to reinforce it.

As French journalists put it: “Pan sur le bec!’

M H B W E X C L U S IV E S E A S O N COMM. EARLY NOVEMBER

W M ERLAN D “P O W E R F U L A N D A U T H E N T IC A L L Y O R IG IN A L .”

- T i m e M a g a iia e

Yours sincerely, Anne Jackel Senior Lecturer and Researcher University of the West of England, Bristol

BagedûnOrahanfSwifts’s novel |i^ij^itedif#éiphen Gyllenhàal

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Memories & Dreams

eautiful”, “moving” and “haunting” are the words that one’s feelings are likely to form after a viewing of LynnMaree M ilburn’s M em ories & D ream s. And appropriately so, as the process of emotion forming words and images is one of the main aspects of this film and the process by which it was made.

There is a level on which this film invites comparison with the prose works of Proust and Nabokov (A R ecb er du tem ps perdu and A da O r A rdour: A Fam ily C hron icle, for example) and with the cinemas of RobbeGrillet and Resnais. But, on another level, M ilburn’s film is outside such comparison: it is, in the modern sense, “other”, its very d ifferen ce manifested in every frame. Defined only by itself, M em o­ ries & D ream s is a brave and entrancing foray into new cinematic language.

Paradoxically, the story is one already oft told: a person’s life in a war-torn central Europe, loves found and lost, a flight to another country. Here, the heroic survivor is Johanna Kilma Ocenaskova (Jo), born in Prague and now a resident of Melbourne. In the film, she recalls her beloved mother and special childhood, her various lovers, and the ultimate escape from a Nazified and then Communized Czechoslovakia.

These recollections are represented in various ways and on several levels, using a multitude of cinema and animation tech­ niques. The film begins with a Czech fairy tale spoken by a little girl.

Behind it is a collage of tumbling autumn leaves and stars, of rainbows and clocks. Jo is then revealed as a little girl (Alexandra Chapman) wandering through a sewing factory and watching her mother put out the washing in the landing of their flat. In voice-over, the Jo of today recounts snippets of her life, sometimes matching the images, sometimes only obliquely making a connection.

Later, the film also introduces Jo as a young woman (Joanna Weir), in one of the film’s major set-pieces, riding in a darkened train carriage, recalling moments from her life. The Jo of today recalls an earlier Jo recalling an even younger one. The layers interweave and reverberate, accumulating through fragmentation and parallelization a powerful evocation of a life fully and dramatically lived.

M ost obviously, M em ories & D ream s is a film about memory and it stands as one of cinema’s more percipient explorations. In its meticulous understanding of the process and functions of memory, it is not bound by the strictures of literature and avoids the common cinematic fault of showing too much. For example, if one remem­ bers a room from childhood, does one visualize it in 360 degrees, or just a corner, a chair, a curtain billowing in the cool summer breeze?

M em ories & D ream s sees memory in fragments linked mostly by the ‘free’ associations of the mind. Images are not structured by linear notions and chronology, but by the indefinable and intuitive sense of rightness, both Jo ’s and the director’s.

In some ways, M em ories & D ream s is very much a collaborationist work. Milburn wrote the screenplay with producer Julie Stone, continuing to work with both Stone and director of photography Andrew de Groot throughout the entire pre- and post-productions.

De Groot also spent a year helping design and construct an animation stand that achieved the exact results Milburn required.

The film’s laboratory, VFL (now Digital Film Services), too, became

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a key partner as test after test went through its portals.

Equally, the Australian Film Commission saw its financial commitment stretch and increase over the six years of production.

But the wait has been already rewarding, the film having been selected by the Venezia, Toronto and London Film Festivals, and winning the Erwin Rado Award for best Australian film at the Melbourne Film Festival.

Given the collaborative approach behind much of the film, the following interview is with M em ories & D ream s' three principal filmmakers.

W hat was the genesis of M em ories & D ream s} Was it meeting Jo? MILBURN [shyly]: I d on ’t think I can answ er that.

DE GROOT : Lynn thought of the film and then met Jo , just at the time

she was looking for someone to make a film around.

FACING PAGE TOP: DIRECTOR LYNN-MAREE MILBURN; BOTTOM: PRODUCER JULIE STONE; LEFT: DIRECTOR OF PHOTOGRAPHY ANDREW DE GROOT.

to an Impressionists retrospective. We wanted people to come away with a feeling of the time, from the images that they’d seen, but without anything being absolutely specific.

Once the script was finished, what did you film first?

STONE: The thirty-six memories. Each scene

was quite small and precisely shotlisted. We had to do it within a proper shooting structure because we had a crew and equipment. That part of the filmmaking happened very quickly - three weeks.

Soon after that, we photographed the interview with Jo. MILBURN: Yes ... in a way.

How much was shot in Melbourne and how much overseas?

DE GROOT: Lynn was wanting to make a film portrait of someone

STONE: All the re-enacted scenes were shot in Melbourne. There

through their memories. She had been thinking about the language of the film before actually meeting the person - not so much the images but ideas about interwoven memories. She wanted to use some of the techniques she had already worked with for other filmmakers: animation sequences; turning movie footage into stills and then working with those stills before refilming them.

was a lot of photography done in Prague, but all the re-enactments of events with Jo were done here in Melbourne. It was difficult portraying a person’s life in Europe and in period. I imagine most Australian period films are set here.

We had to find locations that were pretty raw and could be art directed. We did have art directors for the larger sets, but soon we got into small, contained places with Lynn, Jacqui Everitt and myself enjoying doing it ourselves. Jacqui also did the costumes.

MILBURN: I don’t think initially the ideas were just concerned with

memories, but when I met Jo , given the stage of life that she was at, the film became about memories.

When did you shoot the Prague material?

STONE: We met Jo when she was doing a little bit of acting work

MILBURN: In 1987, at the end of the same year as the Melbourne

around town, in clips and so on. She was amazing to witness on set.

The film evolved when Lynn and I decided to go over to J o ’s place with a tape-recorder and talk to her. A lot more came out of that than we’d ever imagined. We could see she had a great depth and a positivity about her.

It was a slow process and we had to keep going back. Jo was very reticent to talk about the difficult parts of her life. She felt a little paranoid that her life might even still be in danger, decades after moving to Australia. W hat she had experienced in Europe had never

shoot.

really left her.

Initially, of course, there were hundreds of stories and from those Lynn chose the memories that inspired her and that she could imagine achieving - like the little white boots walking through the forest.1 Lynn then worked all those stories and images into a script.

At this stage, it was going to be about a ten-minute film with thirtysix scenes.

Did you always intend interweaving an interview with Jo with reconstructed and animation sequences?

STONE: It was always going to be a collage from the first treatment we took to the AFC. We talked about the film as if it were similar

What were you doing in Prague?

MILBURN: M m m ... Now you want to know ? ... We have to mention

INXS? You didn’t just go all the way to Prague to do some shots of swans?

DE GROOT: We were fortunate to have work on an IN XS clip in

Prague ... [Pause.] Well, maybe it was not a complete coincidence.

Apparently, Michael Hutchence wanted to go to Venice.

[Laughter.]

DE GROOT: No, IN XS were happy about it, and Lynn had done

great work with them before.

Prague is a beautiful place to photograph for any reason. We took various rolls of black and white film over, which we always had with us on set. We could crane out over a bridge between set-ups on the IN XS clip. The way most Czechs were dressed was neither garish nor obviously modern looking, so we could film some quite wide shots. Later, Lynn helped the illusion with more work on the image.

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Sometimes it was like watching a fantastic movie, because the way she spoke would weave such a strong spell.

When you get flashbacks in Hollywood films, memo­ ries are often re-created in 3 6 0 degrees. In this film, they are carefully fragmented. Is that something you concentrated on?

MILBURN: I think it evolved that way, but it also has

something to do with my own experience of memo­ ries. Besides, it was a view into another person’s life, rather than me being there myself.

You also have Jo viewing her own life. For example, she remembers herself on the train remembering how she watched her mother hang up the washing.

Was that structure something you brought to the film?

MILBURN: I think so, because, apart from them both

Because Prague is so visually evocative, it was really quite simple filmmaking.

being particular memories, Jo on the train shows a part of herself that is eternal and can look forward in time as well as backwards. That’s what I feel those scenes represent as well as their particular memories - a part of Jo perceiving herself.

Where was the wrought-iron sculpture that is in the fairy story?

STONE: Also, the medium started to open up and lead us places. The

MILBURN: That’s in Prague, in a little square. It looks a bit like a

fountain, but it’s actually a one-person gaol. There’s a myth about a prince who put his wife in it for adultery or something.

When Jo was interviewed, was she asked questions relating to only those specific memories you were interested in?

MILBURN: Yes. The questions were directly related to the script I

had written and to some of the re-enacted scenes we had already shot.

further we went with the medium, the more we explored.

MILBURN: When you’re in that dark room with the animation

stand, you can become very immersed in the processes. Just working in the dark helps one be reflective and contemplative.

STONE: With that, the filmmaking process became organic and the film grew from twelve minutes to an hour.

Did the structure remain essentially the same?

MILBURN: I felt that in essence it did during the anim ation, though

STONE: By the time we came to do the interview on film, Lynn and

I had twenty-three hours of interview on audio-tape. Lynn was very focused on which memories were hitting something deeply per­ sonal, like when Jo goes back to the war-time memory of her mother’s being forced by hunger to exchange silver slippers for eggs.

We knew from moments like that which memories to ask about.

Within the memories, there is often a concentration on specific details. Were they things you took from J o ’s memories or were they things that she always highlighted? Obviously when she talks about the little white boots in the forest, the detail is clear in her memory.

But what of the sewing-machines and the typewriter: did she highlight them as much as you do?

MILBURN: We did come out of those [audio-tape] interviews feeling

as if she had highlighted these things herself, but I think sometimes it was me highlighting them. When we did subsequent interviews, what seemed highlighted the first time was no longer highlighted. It was quite subjective.

So those images are what you saw as Jo spoke?

MILBURN: It is a combination. Jo mentioned the little white boots to me and they struck an image that seemed to evoke the whole event. But that was not always the case. She did not necessarily describe things visually; sometimes she spoke more about feelings and atmospheres.

STONE: Jo wouldn’t go into great detail about some of the events, particularly those with Richard [one of J o ’s lovers]. But being with Jo was like going on a magical ride with someone. You could be with her in a room for ten hours and wonder where the time had gone.

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it didn’t really com e into its ow n until the editing.

STONE: Every time we saw Jo , something more would open up.

Obviously, there wasn’t any sense of urgency and we let it grow among our lives, in Lynn’s imagination and in her animation room.

But what it started out to be is still very much there. The feeling that Lynn and I wanted to express in the film was to tell something of the essence of a human life.

How much of J o ’s narration is structured? After the scene where she is escaping through the forest, for instance, Jo talks in voice-over about going somewhere. She doesn’t say “Australia” and it is only when she is on the train and she mentions Maitland that one realizes

where she has come. W as that a lucky coincidence or did you direct her to speak in such a way that you were able to order things the way you wished?

MILBURN: Specifically I wished for answered questions and each

one had its place. But also! could edit them, so it was a combination.

How did you decide which images to place with which parts of the story, apart from where the images are clearly descriptive of the story being told? Towards the end of the film, for instance, you return to Jo as a child wandering amongst the sewing machines. You also see Jo standing by a gate when the narration is about something else.

MILBURN: I think those moments which are less narrative are more

reflective times. I felt those scenes were the most representative ones of her life. One is when Jo is leaving Prague and the images are like highlights of her life.

So, if a memory was a strong memory, you highlight it - for instance, the wedding - but where Jo is more commentative or self-examin­ ing, you put Jess descriptive images.

MILBURN: On those occasions there is usually a contemporary

dialogue. They are to represent the story and the events that are happening at the time she is talking about. But then it does go into times where it is reflective and those images represent feelings. You might see Jo as a little girl at the sewing machine and also Jo as a young woman at the gate. They are symbolic images of Jo at those times of her life.

But when Jo is talking about her feelings in Aus­ tralia, we see her again as a child.

MILBURN: That particular image relates to her sense

of inheriting some of her mother’s courage.

DE GROOT: Sometimes the imagery will be in the

realm of the impressionistic narrative, though, at other times, it is more in the realm of portraiture. It combines the differences between those images which are directly telling a story and those of Jo where there is an attempt to portray a stage that Jo is in emotion­ ally, or the path of her life, or how events are acting upon her. The images of Jo outside the wrought-iron gate are, of course, all the same setting and factually the same age, but the portrait has various reflections that communicate different stages of her life. So it has been reiterated throughout many years of her life, though it’s essentially the same moment in time

- a universal image.

When Jo leaves from Czechoslovakia to go to Australia, the stars turn upside. It is as if she is going from the Northern Hemisphere to the Southern.

MILBURN: That idea came during the animation. All those images

of the stars and the dandelions are images I was working with to tell some of the story on the animation stand.

W hat about the falling stars, the leaves and the playing cards?

MILBURN: They were things that I was working with and contem­ plating in the animation room. They were to do with childhood and childhood games. They were images that I was working on that don’t have actors in them. In one way, you are limited, but in another you discover a personal symbolism. The leaves are hard to explain, but in one way they represent Jo - her spirit.

And the falling cloths and waving colour that sometimes floats down?

TOP OF FACING PAGE: JO, DURING HER ACTING DAYS IN PRAGUE. IMMEDIATELY BELOW: JO AT THE GATES. BOTTOM ROW: THE YOUNG JO (ALEXANDRA CHAPMAN) WATCHES HER MOTHER THROUGH THE SLATS OF THE STAIRS AS SHE PUTS OUT WASHING ON THE LANDING. MEMORIES & DREAMS.

MILBURN:' They really come so much

from feelings that it is hard to explain.

STONE: They are definitely parts of Lynn’s

syrnbolic world that have developed with her emotional and personal connection with the film. She has developed one language - the hand painting of the images for J o ’s memories - and to that has added her own emotional interpreta­ tions.

Then again, these other images - of the falling stars, swirling cloths, raihbows, leaves or stars arcing through the sky - are more part of Lynn’s own lan­ guage that, even in a completely different film of Lynn’s, would probably still be there in some form.

MILBURN: It is the alchemy of so many

stages and processes: the script, out there in the world filming with professional actors, in the dark animating and then more time in the dark editing.

ANOTHER IMAGE OF JO IN THE TRAIN. MEMORIES & DREAMS.

Was there editing done on the animation stand as well?

MILBURN: Yes. The washing scene, which is about three minutes

and ten shots long, with ripple wipes and dissolves, is in the film just as it came off the animation camera. There are many other such scenes.

Did you do everything on the animation stand before you started editing on the Steenbeck, or did you go from one to another?

MILBURN: We probably did half the animation shooting before we

went onto the Steenbeck, and then ended up doing as much shooting . again after the editing began.

Mothers, Sisters and Men Why is there such an absence of male characters in the film, particularly fathers? You don’t discuss or show Jo ’s father, or the fathers of her two children. As well, Jo talks so much about Jaroslav being the great love of her life, yet you don’t choose to show him.

MILBURN: It comes out of knowing Jo . M ost husbands came and

went in her life, and she didn’t meet her father until she was eighteen.

He came back, stayed for three days and disappeared again.

The main men important to her were Jaroslav and Richard.

Richard was the romantic lover of her life, while Jaroslav was more like an early father figure and lover. I could symbolize Richard as a romantic, unrequited love, an unfinished love that still exists to this day, but Jaroslav was more all-pervasive. H e’s shown more in words, as in the poem Jo speaks, which she wrote to him and is said again in Czech after Jaroslav dies. I felt that spoke more than showing his image. I couldn’t really place him in any particular image. §TONE: I find the absence of males in the film very interesting. I

became especially aware of it at the last screening. Even without the images being there, the dominance of the male aspects of the world - the war, the German and Russian armies - shape Jo ’s life. It seems all-pervasive to me now, though I don’t think I was so aware of it while working on the film.

That generalized male aspect comes across in the sea of faces, of an army moving through a street.

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STONE: Yes. There is a male canopy over the shape of her life, and

yet her heart has stayed with her mother and with her own feminine self-possessedness. She is still proud of her femininity, her strength and her independence.

The most powerful moments in the film are those connected with women, and especially her mother. This is either directly, as when Jo talks about her mother, or imagistically. For instance, when towards the end of the film Jo hangs clothes on the clothes-line, one immediately and powerfully recalls her mother. Another scene is when Jo talks about the support she received on arriving in Australia. She says, “Not even a sister could have done as much for me.” The most emotional, powerful and strongest forces are within the women.

STONE: Definitely Jo ’s essence is connected to the mother, to the

female connections when she arrived here. Even her relationship with Lynn and myself is very strong and emotional.

There’s a lot of writing now about women filmmakers inventing their own female language in cinema. Do you feel there is an element of that in your own work? Is there something about your filmic language which is particular to women and their sensibilities and sensitivities?... [Thoughtful silence.] ...

We feared you weren’t going to like this question.

MILBURN: Umm ... I don’t think I can answer that.

M ost film language is male, simply because most films are made by men and only a tiny speck by women. It is only recently that a lot of films are being made by women and some of these directors are saying, “I totally reject anything that I have been taught about the language of cinema and I will speak honestly the way I, as a female, want to.” Did you ever say something like that to yourself?

MILBURN: Oh no, I wouldn’t say that. I probably felt more like one

of those “ little specks ”, because it was the first thing I had attempted on that scale.

You are not saying that it wasn’t possible, more that it wasn’t conscious?

STONE: Yes. But the way you are expressing this isn’t in a language

Lynn would speak in herself or outwardly. —-

On a more subconscious level, Lynn was definitely making a film that expressed inner feelings and therefore came from the inner world of the female. Also, the fact that two women set about to make this film with another woman gave it a feminine spirit and empathy. But it was never a conscious thing of defying the cinema language of men.

Technique and the Animation Stand DE GROOT: The film was shot on 35mm blackrand-white movie

film, except for colour in the Australian scenes and the scene in the film studio’s dressing room. M ost of the scenes were photographed at 8 frames per second.

N ot even in terms of defining your own language as opposed to theirs ?

And you then printed up each of those frames?

STONE: Definitely in finding your own self-expression and therefore

MILBURN: A dedicated friend named Evan Clark worked for many

being feminine ... with a different language behind it.

Lynn set out to make a film that was honest to herself and her heart, and so that is female and feminine. We could both say that we are feminists, but we would probably never use that word, because I don’t actually feel feminist. I feel feminine and express that femininity, as Lynn does hers, rather than join with a feminist view against the male thing. I don’t think either of us felt we were acting out anything; we were just being honest to ourselves.

months, blowing up about fifteen thousand 5 " x 7" stills. I then registered them on an animation hole-punch and peg-bar, using the original movie film sprocket holes and frame edges that were on the prints as register-points.

MILBURN: Because that’s like one little thing as you’re saying ... I’m

not sure ... I can’t speak for Julie, but ...

STONE: Why not? I speak for you all the time.

MILBURN: But just on a personal level, when we started to make this

And then you hand-tinted those prints?

MILBURN: M ost of them.

Did you decide before shooting how you were going to hand-tint or did you wait until after the shooting?

MILBURN: I probably had an idea, but mostly I worked it out once I had the actual images. Again, it was an emotional response.

Once we started animating certain scenes, there were other things we started doing that I felt gave the right effect for particular scenes, when I felt it needed to be left black and white and possibly textured, or seen through a vignette.

film, the world at large was a very foreign concept, anyway. It probably still is.

I didn’t see myself in relation to the world at large. It was always, from the beginning, a very inner thing. I never saw the film as having a place in the world.

MILBURN: Andrew made the animation stand.

So, by default, the film ends up having quite a separatist view?

Why was an animation stand built and not another one used?

STONE: Yes. Ninety per cent of the film was made in this dark and

MILBURN: Urn ... Inspiration. I ...

isolated space. Only a small percentage was done with a film crew and actors. When you are talking of years in the making, only a few months of it were done out in the world, if you like. The rest of it was in the inner world.

Lynn found her own voice almost in isolation; it is not connected to women’s filmmaking voices out there. But, I feel that women being honest with their feelings are going to find their feminine voice and, I would hope, are eventually going to express feminine spirit or soul. Maybe some are going to go about it in a louder or more demonstrative way, and even consciously band together, but there will be others, probably, who will just come through from a more simple place without consciously knowing it or even being part of a collective unconsciousness.

DE GROOT: Well, partly because we knew that we needed fairly

DE GROOT: We didn’t ever think about many people seeing the film.

STONE: Lynn thought we were going to put it in a shoebox and keep it under her bed.

DE GROOT: Possibly if it had started as a bigger film, Lynn would

have worried about these other questions. But, at the same time, not thinking about it was impinging on real cinema anyway. We probably didn’t feel so threatened by any criteria of expertise, judgement or measuring up to anything.

MILBURN: Yes.

Are you planning to do another film?

Once the stills were hand-tinted, what happened next?

unlimited access to one. Lynn photographed on the stand for a year.

I felt it would take a long time and should be allowed to take a long time, because a lot of the shooting involved unplanned experiments.

You need to be able to work at home or like in a painter’s studio, where you’re not working to a clock or a weekly rate or even an hourly rate. Because Lynn has worked on various other animation stands, we were quite aware of how gruelling and intimidating it would be working for so long on a rented one. Y ou’d never be able to do the sorts of testing which would need to be processed, workprinted, looked at and assessed about how to reshoot them.

O f course, without Ray Strong’s endless support and generosity with his 35mm Mitchell animation camera on and off for a year, the film would have remained a pipedream. * f. : • It’s a different stand compared with most animation stands that you can rent. A lot of them are computer driven and have calibra­ tions in multi-axes, but M em ories & D ream s required more work­ ing with the textures, the camera shutter control, fading dissolves, multiple exposures, ripples, mattes and multi-coloured filtration all very traditional techniques. We also needed different frame rates, so that each shot could be reshot at a unique frame rate that did not have to conform to its original 8 frames per second.

With all that sort of work required, it had to be a very userfriendly animation stand. Most of the design and construction was done by a talented friend and filmmaker, M cGregor Knox.

Are some of the opticals in the film actually animation stand opticals?

MILBURN: I don’t know if that’s a good question to ask me.

DE GROOT: You see, Lynn didn’t really mean to make this one.

DE GROOT: About half the fades and dissolves are animated, 1

The white boots are those worn by Jo ’s son as they attempt to escape Czechoslovakia through a forest at night.

Declaration: Scott Murray is an actor-cum-extra in one shot of the film (and has worked with Andrew de Groot on other projects). Other than that, he had no involvement with the film.

■

particularly the ripple dissolves and mattes.

Every shot was photographed with an animated optical transi­ tion of some sort, but during the editing some of those things had to change, such as its being better to turn a fade out into a dissolve to the next image. That was done beautifully by Kevin Williams at Digital Film Laboratories. He did wonderful work for this film.

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By Richard Franklin M y reaction to the news that the marketing "experts” are moving in on our industiy may appear to be one taken wearing only my director’s cap« But I.wish to say at the outset that my comments about "power politics’- relate entirely to my experiences with the Hollywood infra-structure« That having also worked as é producer, my concern, on behalf of all who are creatively involved in our industry (dare I say "art form”), is that it shouldn’t happen here« LEFT: THE CONCLUDING DUEL SEQUENCE FROM ALFRED HITCHCOCK'S TOPAZ (1969)

.

WHICH W A S CUT AFTER A N AUDIENCE Te s t p r e v i e w .

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CIN EM A P A P E R S 9 5 • 13

Pistols at Dawn

here’s a saying in Hollywood that, “Every dog has to piss on the tree to make it its own.”

In 1986, I was there watching my picture L in k get “whittled down” by a succession of owner-distributors1- each new one chipping a little more away, until my wife was moved to liken the plight of my monkey movie to that of the horse in B lack Beauty.

I then had a call from the Academy of M otion Picture Arts and Sciences asking if I would assist in the cataloguing of the private film collection of my one-time mentor, Sir Alfred Hitchcock. I agreed, with an ulterior motive. I had been searching for some years for the only missing Hitchcock set piece of which I’m aware - the original ending to T op a z (1969) - in which the hero and villain duel with pistols at dawn in a Paris soccer stadium.

T op a z is generally dismissed as a failed work, but had particular interest for me as it was the picture on which I watched Hitchcock at work. I was aware of his exhaustive research, which had established that clandestine duels still took place in Paris. He had gone to enormous trouble to show the exact protocol of the ancient ritual (they don’t take ten paces then fire) and spent more time on this sequence than any other in the picture, re-shooting portions of it on three separate occasions. Imagine, therefore, my disappoint­ ment when the film arrived in Australia minus the scene which should have been (and is) the best thing in the movie.

I made enquiries and discovered that, although Hitchcock hated previews and normally took the view the audience could accept the picture (or not) the way he wanted it, he agreed to preview T opaz in San Francisco. In spite of all his efforts, there was apparently some scattered laughter during the duel scene and a few people com­ mented they thought duelling in the present day “silly” . In this case, truth was stranger than fiction, but, as is always the case with previews, the negative voice of a few spoiled things for the many.

It might have been possible, for example, to stem the laughter by preparing the audience through advance publicity. Even if Hitchcock had not done his usual pre-release monologues, he was already at

T

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work on a print ad which featured the duel as the centre­ piece. And an audience going to a Hitchcock picture expecting to see a pistol duel would almost certainly have behaved differently from the unprepared San Francisco audience.

But back at the studio, Hitchcock was asked what was to be done about the laughter and he simply ordered the entire scene removed. Such pique might sound extraordi­ nary, but presenting one’s “baby” to the world can be a touchy thing (John Ford once removed the entire fight from the end of T he Q uiet M an, 1952, because Herbert Yates said it was “a little long” ). At 70, Hitchcock had gone through the frustration of two unrealized personal projects (“Maryrose” and the original Frenzy), had accepted T op az as an assignment and laboured to elevate it with his own original climactic set piece (I believe the duel was his raison d ’etre for doing the picture).

There was laughter at a single screening (someone may have farted) and the man who had once tricked his producer into letting him make the first European talkie found himself without the energy to defend his work. A freeze frame was inserted to suggest the villain had suicided and the rest is history - but it might not have been ...

After the television version was prepared in 1972, Universal’s editorial department ordered all additional material (trims, out-takes, etc.) destroyed and even the negative of the duel scene was “junked”. The scene was gone forever, until a can of Technicolor IB release print, which Hitchcock had secreted in his garage, was opened at the Academy in 1986. And both endings are now available on the M CA Faser Disc of the picture.

I was moved by Peter Bogdanovich’s new book2 to buy the Voyager Criterion CAV Faser Disc of T he M agnificent A m berson s (1942), which, with Robert Carringer’s audio essay, an entire side of Welles’ uncut screenplay, the complete storyboards and the original M er­ cury Radio version of A m berson s is film scholarship of the highest order.

For those who don’t know, one of the greatest tragedies in the brief history of our art form occurred in Pomona, California, on 17 March 1942, when Orson Welles’ second film, T he M agnificent

FACING PAGE: HITCHCOCK DIRECTS THE DUEL SCENE FROM TOPAZ. LEFT AND RIGHT BELOW: TWO STILLS OF THE DUEL SCENE, BOTH OF WHICH SHOW SIGHS OF BEING WORKED ON FOR POSSIBLE USE IN A POSTER. HAD THE TEST AUDIENCE KNOWN THE FILM CONTAINED A DUEL, WOULD IT HAVE REACTED DIFFERENTLY? IMMEDIATELY BELOW: A CUT SCENE FROM ORSON WELLES' THE MAGNIFICENT AMBERSONS - MUTILATED FOREVER "BY 89 OUT OF 210 MEMBERS OF THE PREVIEW PROCESS ON TWO NIGHTS IN 1942".

(REPRODUCED FROM THIS IS ORSON WELLES, HARPER COLLI NS.)

A m ber sons, was previewed. His first, Citizen K an e (1941), is widely regarded as the greatest ever made, but Welles himself believed A m berson s was a better picture.

Before leaving for South America3, Welles had finished a director’s cut of 132 minutes. Although he described the picture as “epic”, he planned further cuts (Kane's length is 119 minutes) and left on the understanding that his editor, Robert Wise, would follow with a print of the film. But in his absence, the studio immediately screened his cut, removed two scenes and set up a preview.

It went poorly. There were walkouts and derisive laughter and, of 125 comment cards collected, 72 were negative. The fact that the 53 positive cards included comments like “masterpiece”, “best pic­ ture I have ever seen” (while the negatives included gems like “people like to laff”, and “as bad if not worse than Citizen K a n e”) did not deter the studio from cutting a further 17 minutes before organizing a second preview two nights later. At this second screening, only 18 of 85 cards collected were nega­ tive, but the executives were in panic, so ordered the picture completely re-cut “with a lawn mower” (to quote Welles). A further 30 or so minutes were removed and Robert Wise made his directing debut in Welles’ absence4, shooting, among other things, a new (happy) ending.

Rival studio head David O. Selznick suggested to RKO that Welles’ version should be copied and deposited at the Museum of Modern Art, but, far from heeding the suggestion, the new head of RK O , presumably eager to “sweep clean” (and cover his tracks), ordered some fifty minutes of Welles’ footage immediately “junked”.

A m berson s was released at its present 88 minutes, on the second half of a double bill with a Lupe Velez comedy entitled M exican Spitfire Sees a G h ost (Leslie Goodwins, 1942), and, by the time Welles returned from South America, his reputation for profligacy was well and truly entrenched (the RKO publicity department having been ordered to spread anti-Welles propaganda in his absence). He was unable to get a directing job again for four years.

W hat remains of A m bersons certainly suggests that it (alone among Welles’ films) was technically equal to K ane. I personally prefer the stately understatement evident from the very first shot to

K an e’s showy deconstructionism. The literally “magnificent” threestory set for the Amberson mansion makes the second-hand Xanadu sets5 pale, and Stanley Cortez’s rich imagery makes Greg Toland’s much lauded deep-focus work look stark and almost functional by comparison.

I’ll admit it’s hard to believe the soap opera-like story of the “comeuppance” of the highly unlikeable George Amberson Minafer (Tim Holt) could ever have had the complexity of K an e’s examina­ tion of America and its failed dream. But the novel was a Pulitzer Prize winner and Welles argued that what remains is only the prologue to a dark study of the decline of middle America, with the coming of the machine age (particularly the automobile).

Welles says he had paralleled the fall of the house of Amberson with a series of documentary sequences showing the changes in the town and it’s possible these alone might have had an enormous effect. Consider, for example, how K an e’s sociological perspective would be diminished with the simple excision of the “News on the M arch” sequence.

All but a fragment of one of these scenes and fifty minutes of what may well have at least been in “the top ten of all time”6 are gone seen by a handful of executives, a few technicians, and condemned forever by 89 out of 210 members of the preview process on two nights in 1942.

One can hope a stash of negative or decayed workprint may one day emerge from a vault or garage as it did on T op az, but, since Welles himself tried for many years to find the missing material, it seems unlikely A m bersons will ever be restored (to magnificence or otherwise). And the tragedy of a loss which might have changed the history of cinema, and of the director who got his “comeuppance” by being run down by a model train7, can never be righted.

• • • • • This brings me to my own experiences of the preview process and market research as I have experienced them in Hollywood.

Previews are of two basic types: paid and unpaid. Unpaid previews are either by invitation, or the picture is run along with another (two for the price of one). In the latter case, an audience who CINEMA

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Pistols at Dawn Preview Comment Card

ROAD GAM ES

has paid to see one movie is then asked to view and assess another, which is A___________________________ __________ unfinished and may suf­ R ___________________________________ fer by comparison8- es­ C_________ _____________________________ pecially since few people Now please rate ROAD GAMES and the 3 are now used to sitting movies you listed, using the scale below. JUST WRITE THE APPROPRIATE NUMBER IN EACH through double bills.

OF THE 4 BOXES. But if the audience is Excellent = 5 Very Good - 4 invited, then one must Good = 3 Fair - 2 question who is invited, Poor = 1 Rating and for what purpose?

1. ROAD GAMES I am not against pre­ 2. The movie you listed on LINE A. views p er se. I person­ ally had considerable 3. The movie you listed on LINE B. success in my pre-pre­ 4. The movie you listed on LINE C. view days in Australia, Please indicate: □ Male ' □ Female running my own. As a (4) My age is: part-time lecturer, I had □ Under 18 □ 18-24 □ 2 5 -3 4 0 3 5 or over access to students of film (5) WHY did you come to this theater? □ Only or mainly to see ROAD GAMES (and related disciplines) □ Only or mainly to see the regular feature □ Other who were of the movie­ (6) Please indicate your feelings about each of going age, but consider­ these statements about ROAD GAMES ably more articulate (and Agree Disagree The beginning grabbed my educated in the process) attention □ □ Some parts moved too slowly □ than the “man on the Many parts moved too slowly □ □ Some parts were confusing □ street” . In addition to □ Many parts were confusing □ □ The last part was exciting being able to ask them □ □ The ending was satisfying □ □ to fill out forms of greater The entire movie was boring □ □ The movie was too long □ □ length than those used 1liked the music □ □ The movie was scary by market researchers, I □ □ P LEA S E W R IT E F U R T H E R C O M M E N T S B E LO W . was able to get up in THANK YOU! front of the group and field questions and criti­ cisms, using the old teachers’ trick of throwing questions back on the class, so I could instantly see what others thought, and assess the breadth (or otherwise) of the problem.9 Another method I have used (I daresay most filmmakers have) is to show the unfinished picture to friends, acquaintances, business colleagues (and, most important, a broad demarcation of friends of all of the above). In this way, the feedback has a degree of objectivity, but is also able to be followed up with a fair knowledge of the personality and tastes of the person making the comment.

In spite of his dislike of formal previews, Hitchcock always used this method and had a trusted band of constructive critics he took from film to film. Buffs will be amazed to know he screened Vertigo (1958) to this group MINUS the contentious letter-writing scene10 which let the cat out of the bag prior to the twist ending.

Professional preview organizers, on the other hand, usually try to get a so-called “representative cross section” of total strangers, in order to avoid pre-j udging the type of audience they think the picture will appeal to. Combing the shopping malls, multiplexes and their own previous audiences, they assemble the most disparate group imaginable. N ot only are people who would never have come in the first place (and may even actively dislike the type of picture they’re being shown) asked to participate, but the response of ALL the minorities11 is judged by a sample which should never be committed to statistics (e.g., “all the one-legged jockeys fe lt...”).

Advertised “sneak” previews, for which admission is charged, are thought to be better as at least they eliminate the influence of those who would never have come in the first place. However, they are considerably more costly as they require advertising. This necessitates the evolution of at least a facsimile of the advertising (1) Please begin by listing the last 3 movies you can remember seeing (in theaters).

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campaign, which opens another whole can of worms, since inevita­ bly one is told that no one-legged jockeys turned up.

Then an argument ensues about whether the problem was the picture or the ad.12 I’m no statistician, but, with previews, I believe it is necessary to try and minimize the advertising variable. However, from experi­ ence, movie advertising is a law unto itself and one finds oneself debating the even bigger question of whether advertising should reflect the form and content of the “product”, or whether all that matters is whether or not it “works”. This would be fine except that the effect of preview advertising which is “dishonest” is that you can get an entire au dience of the people you wanted to avoid - those who would never have come to the picture in the first place.13 Further, one can provoke hostility by asking an audience to pay for something which may genuinely still be unfinished AND for the privilege of filling out forms. And those who are motivated by temporary advertising to join the élite group who will be the first to see a new movie may not be in any way representative of the picture’s eventual audience.14 But whether the preview is invited, advertised, paid or unpaid, it is obvious that people respond differently when invited to be critical of a work which is represented as being “in progress” - especially when it is so new they do not have the benefit of advance criticism or word of mouth.15 “Everyone is a critic” (or, if you prefer, “everyone knows his/her j ob AND how to make movies ” ). But the idea of inviting people who do not understand the movie-making process to give their opinion of how a picture might be changed is like asking them off the street to try a little amateur brain surgery.

This is the first major problem I see in the preview process as practised by the “experts” - B E G G IN G T H E Q U E S T IO N .

ABOVE: PREVIEW COMMENT CARD FOR ROADGAMES. BELOW: THE MAIN RESULTS OF WATERMAN GLASS & ASSOCIATES' TEST PREVIEW OF ROADGAMES, 9 JANUARY 1981. RIGHT: TWO TABLES OF DATA SUMMARY - MOVIES REDUCED TO A NUMBER.

MAIN RESULTS

‘"RATINGS FOR ROAD GAMES WERE NOT OUTSTANDING, BUT WERE FAVORABLE.

The UA 4 AUDIENCE PROFILE (Table 2) shows that ROAD GAMES was rated below most recent boxoffice hits, but was compared favorably to several other we 11-performing features in the marketplace. See also the COMPARATIVE HISTORICAL DATA on page 11.

The AUDIENCE PROFILE further shows that the UA 4 crowd was a very typical suburban audience. ""RATINGS WERE STRONGEST AMONG THOSE UNDER 25, BUT HELD UP WELL AMONG THE OLDER GROUP. See Table 4 for details. »"THE AUDIENCE WAS DOMINATED BY THOSE WHO SAID THEY CAME ONLY OR MAINLY TO SEE FIRST FAMILY. Only 21 % (44 people) reported they came ’’only or mainly to see ROAD GAMES." (See Table 3.) The ROAD GAMES print ad cannot, therefore, take credit for the turnout.

(FIRST F.AMILY was still strong at the UA 4. Total Friday gross for Screen #2 was $1546. The Saturday gross the following day for FIRST FAMILY alone was $4300, with the regular 8:30 show sold out.)

Those who came "only or mainly to see ROAD GAMES" did rate the movie somewhat higher than the audience as a whole, but they were too small a proportion of the full audience for this result to be statistically meaningful.

(See Table 4.) * "PROBLEMS WITH THE MOVIE.

(See Table 5.)

On the positive side: Great majorities said the beginning grabbed their attention, that the last part was exciting, and that the ending (ie, the resolution of the story) was satis­ fying. Almost no one thought the entire movie was boring or too long, and audience confusion (often a problem with murder mysteries) was minor.

On the negative side: The one important criticism was that some parts of the movie moved too slowly. That slowmovement was not an overwhelming problem, however, is shown by the large majority who disagreed with the the statement that "many parts of the movie moved too slowly." (COMMENT: Based on our experience, this result means that at least some improvement in audience response--ie, wordof-mouth— would almost certainly come from cutting unnecessary material from the first part of the movie.)

See page 10 for a full discussion.

In the type of preview I used to run, there were two types of audience member - the good ones came with an open mind, the bad ones with a clipboard, flashlight and supply of pens (on one occasion I removed same from an associate, asking if, on his first exposure to the picture, he wouldn’t mind watching the screen).

But at organized previews, audiences are told ahead of time that we want input. On one occasion, I had to threaten to leave16 if a pre­ title disclaimer was not removed from the head of the picture. The card said something like: We are not sure whether or not the picture is finished, and we want YOUR suggestions for ways in which it could be improved.

This half-assed approach is my second complaint: it pre-supposes (a) the creative process is entirely one of bumbling trial and error; (b) that the only possible outcome of the preview is to change the picture; and (c) that the only worthwhile fe e d b a c k is N E G A T IV E .

People are already insecure enough about their opinions. While derision may be cause for concern, nervous laughter seems to me a pretty natural reaction to the process; at the other extreme, the first preview of the M arx Brothers’ N ight at the O pera (Sam Wood, 1935) got none.17 It is a source of continued wonderment to me that even friends trying to offer a compliment still feel compelled to the obligatory, “The only thing I didn’t like was ...”, as if I’ll think they haven’t thought about it otherwise.

In the “experts’” lexicon of accentuating the negative, the ultimate is the “walk out”. When JosephTura (Jack Benny) ponders wishfully that the man who walked out of his soliloquy in To B e o r N o t to B e { 1942) may have been dying, I cannot help but think that Ernst Lubitsch was referring to previews. “Walk outs” are the worst, and, since the process deals only in negatives, I have found that I must personally count the “walk backs” in order to diminish this most damning of statistics. M ost executives are still of the pre­ television generation and thus unaware of the movement in modern theatres, where people behave as if they’re in their own living rooms.

W orst of all are those who wait till the movie starts to decide to buy pop-corn, need a drink to counteract the salt on it, then cannot make it through to the finale because of poor bladder control. I’ve followed them into the lobby and even made conversation at adjacent urinals in order to counter the fact that their anonymous silent action is given more credence than Pauline Kael (indeed, real critics are actively despised by executives and distributors), but this sort of thoughtless behaviour is allowed to have real impact on the creative process.

Next come the statistics. Audience members are asked to identify their gender, age group, etc., then to rate the picture and the various performances by checking boxes ranging from EXC E LLEN T to PO O R. Number values are assigned to each, converted to percent­ ages and compared (arbitrarily) to every other movie ever tested.

To be ready to respond to the “statisticians”, who sit in the lobby whipping through the cards like tellers counting money, then holding a finger aloft to reduce a year’s work to a “fifty three”, or decimate an actor’s entire career with a “twenty tw o”, you flip feverishly through the discards and work out that a high percentage rated your picture “good to very good”. But for some inexplicable reason, the “experts” say, “We don’t count good - and only x% rated it excellent. ” So you ask why they bother to put “good” on the form, if it’s considered meaningless in a world of advertising hype, and wonder if an audience asked to rate a film a bout Mary McKillop or Mother Teresa might not use the word “good” out of preference to the adjective in the title of Bill & T ed ’s E xcellen t A dventure (Stephen Herek, 1989).

This is as far as it goes on the night, but as you head for your car or Lear jet18, you watch the paranoia set in among the “suits” - the distributors and executives who have their money and/or jobs on the line - and act as if you don’t.

A day or so later, the “experts” have produced a bound docu­ ment, and everyone is on tenter-hooks waiting for their crystal ball predictions. All the statistics have been analyzed and they start

Table 1

Table 2

DATA SUMMARY

AUDIENCE PROFILE AT THE UA 4

The UA 4 Cerritos ATTENDANCE/RESPONSE DATA

317

Theater Capacity Paid Attendance at ROAD GAMES

252’*

Number of (Usable) Comment Cards Returned

209

% Response

83%

Number of Respondents Who Came "Only or Mainly to See ROAD GAMES

44

As a % of Total Respondents ROAD GAMES RATINGS:

21%

TOTAL AUDIENCE

% "Excellent" Ratings % "Excellent" plus "VeryGood" Ratings Overall Average Rating All All All All

Average Ratings for All Movies That At Least 5 Respondents Reported Seeing

-------

Under 25 25 or over Males Females

28% 63% 3.7 3.9 3.5 3.6 3.8

ROAD GAMES RATINGS: THOSE WHO CAME "ONLY OR MAINLY TO SEE ROAD GAMES." % "Excellent" Ratings

38%

% '-'Excellent" plus "VeryGood" Ratings

31%

Overall Average Rating

4.0

’•Thirty-five seats were filled by Avco reservation and we counted 30 vacant seats near the end of the preview (317-35-30 = 252). The management, however, reported 297 tickets sold for Screen 42 between 8:00 and 9:00 p.m., indicating that some people bought tickets but were discouraged when they got there by available seating only at the front.

Movie THE EMPIRE STRIKES BACK THE JAZZ SINGER ORDINARY PEOPLE THE ELEPHANT MAN STAR WARS THE SHINING PRIVATE BENJAMIN RAGING BULL FLASH GORDON EVERY WHICH WAY YOU CAN NINE TO FIVE

Number of Responses

Average Rating ■**

8 5 6 24 5 7 16 9 16 40 29

4.4 4.4 4.3 4.2 4.0 4.0 3.8 3.8 3.8 3.7 3.7

ROAD GAMES STIR CRAZY OH GOD BOOK II SEEMS LIKE OLD TIMES STAR TREK POPEYE HONEYSUCKLE ROSE XANADU CADDYSHACK AIRPLANE THE BLUE LAGOON GALAXINA A CHANGE OF SEASONS FIRST FAMILY THE MIRROR CRACKED MOTEL HELL

3.7 SO 13 11 S 38 5 8 7 12 S 6 16 20 6 5

3.7 3.6 3.6 3.6 3.5 3.4 3.4 3.3 3.3 3.2 3.2 2.8 2.6 2.3 2.0

’’Based on the 5-point scale where 5 is highest and 1 is lowest.

NOTE BENE: Small samples in many cases make this data ILLUSTRATIVE ONLY.'

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LEFT: IN THIS TABLE, NOTE HOW "SOME PARTS MOVED TOO SLOWLY" IS THE ONLY RESPONSE HIGHLIGHTED. BUT ONLY 46% FELT THIS, MEANING 54% DIDN'T. WHY WAS THE MINORITY RESPONSE

Table S

GIVEN PRECEDENCE OVER THE MAJORITY? EQUALLY, WHY DIDN'T THE "EXPERTS" HIGHLIGHT THE HIGH AGREE OR DISAGREE WITH THE FOLLOWING STATEMENTS ABOUT ROAD GAMES? (Question 6)

RATINGS OF 81% WHO FOUND "THE BEGINNING GRABBED MY ATTENTION" OR THE 87% WHO FOUND "THE LAST PART WAS EXCITING"? FACING PAGE: THE "S & M " ADVERTISING FOR RICHARD FRANKLIN'S ROADGAMES (1981), AND A REACTION NOT HEEDED BY THE DISTRIBUTOR.

Statement

Agree

Disagree

Total

Base*

The beginning grabbed my attention

81%

19%

100%

186

Some parts moved too slowly

46%

54%

100%

191

Many parts moved too slowly

16%

84%

100%

190

Some parts were confusing

23%

77%

100%

190

Many parts were confusing

3%

97%

100%

188

The last part was exciting

87%

13%

100%

190

The ending was satisfying

79%

21%

100%

190

7%

93%

100%

190

The movie was too long

11%

89%

100%

186

I liked the music

73%

27%

100%

191

The movie was scary

7S%

25%

100%

187

The entire movie was boring

**Those who did not respond to this question are excluded from the percentage calculation.

talking about the “skew” away from one-legged jockeys, or the fact that the one octogenarian in the audience had his pencil break and the butterfly effect this may have in Poughkeepsie.

M ost of the card is multiple choice, easily converted to statistics though it should be observed that objective answers are only as good as the alternatives given. On F/X 2, despite my protests, they were given the choice of two alternatives: “TO O V IO LEN T” or “GOOD AND V IO L E N T” - a comment on the American psyche perhaps, yet no reference was made to what I felt was the picture’s major strength, its humour.

But the card ends with a half page that cannot be interpreted statistically as the audience is asked to list the scenes they like and dislike, usually prefaced with leading questions about “pace” and “ boredom ”. Using phone follow-ups - whereby people who answer ads for part-time marketing work (and have generally not even seen the picture) call the more outspoken audience members and discuss ways in which the picture might be changed (the blind leading the blind) - problem areas are supposedly identified. But as with the walk outs, one “don’t like” outweighs three “likes”, so virtually every scene w hich stands ou t is under threat.

Last, there are four or five lines headed “comments” . Although filmmakers say they take no notice of critics, I have personally read every card from every preview I’ve ever had. But I’ve never known distributors or executives to go beyond the “expert” analysis and the comments appear to be merely the token that such things become on multiple-choice forms - there to fill out the last page, read only by the director, editor (and occasionally the producer).

The “suits” do no more than glance at them, before giving the cards as a parting gift to the director. Which is how the positive ones (cf.

A m bersons) get overlooked, because, like the “squeaky wheel”, the negative expletives are the only ones that get noticed.

I have deliberately started using the term “suit” (as used in Hollywood) to point up my third major gripe: the preview has become the battlefront in the power politics of disenfranchizing “creatives From time to time, “superstar” directors are given the right to “FINAL C U T”, because they have the clout (and lawyers) to ask for it. In Hollywood, this has nothing to do with creative ability, but a peculiar fusion of Keynesian economics and the American dream, whereby those who have a picture in last summer’s top two or three, 18 • C I N E M A

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or are perceived to be “hot”, are imbued with the box-office equivalent of M idas’ touch. (And like all dreams, someone eventu­ ally wakes up.)

Orson Welles must be one of a very few who had it on his first picture (on the strength of his radio version of W ar o f the W orlds) but lost it (with a vengeance) on his second. Beyond this, my information is largely anecdotal, simply because N O director is willing to discuss it. Directors’ salaries - their “market value” (which like a house at auction is a function of what people are prepared to pay) - can be known by anyone who wants to hire them.

But “FINAL CUT” is something no one admits to not having (the double negative is deliberately obtuse).

In spite of T he Bridge on the R iver K w ai (1957), David Lean can’t have had it on L aw ren ce o f A rabia (1962) or they wouldn’t have got all that mileage out of restoring it. In spite of Alien (1979), Ridley Scott can’t have had it on B lad e Runner (1982). And in spite of P latoon (1986), if Oliver Stone had it on JF K (1991), there wouldn’t be a laser version of his “Director’s Cut” .191 would guess Spielberg had it after/<mAs (1975), lost it after 1941 {1979), regained it with R aiders o f the L o st A rk (1981), lost it with T he C olor Purple (1985) and almost certainly has it on Schindler’s List (1993).

But even if a director had it, I wonder who would be willing to assert it, especially in the face of the preview process? Terry Gilliam did, when Universal wanted to change B razil (1985) for the U.S. and ended up making his next picture in Rome.20 Hitchcock was probably the most consistently successful director in history, not only producing his own pictures, but, by the 1950s, all rights in Vertigo and his Paramount pictures reverted to him personally. By the time he made T o p a z , he was the third largest stockholder in MCA, Universal’s parent company. So if he didn’t have clout, I don’t know who did.

For most directors, however, the Director’s Guild contract allows supervision of a cut then, according to status, to one or more previews.21 You would assume this would be comparative: i.e., if there is the “director’s cut” and (an)other version(s), there would be a number of “play offs”, scores would be compared and the best version would win. But since editing on film is, as already observed, like whittling22, and since by definition the director hands over the picture at the preview, the attitude seems to be “let the director have his screenings, then we’ll do what we want”. It is a rare executive who like Darryl Zanuck, in the face of bad cards and laughter at the first preview of T he G rapes o f W rath, says: “Ship it. Don’t change a frame.”23 There’s a Hollywood story (probably apocryphal) of a director who persuades the studio to give him an extra preview away from Hollywood. H e’s so protective of his version he carries it to the airport and books an extra seat so he doesn’t have to let it out of his sight. They take off and he’s momentarily relieved, until the in-flight movie starts and it’s his picture - the studio’s version.

Making a film is an excruciatingly drawn-out process of day-today, shot-to-shot, frame-to-frame minutiae. When I visit someone else’s set, I generally can’t see the difference between the first and last take. And even on my own set, when the camera’s not rolling, I often have to ask my assistant which of the army of technicians we’re waiting for. So I can’t blame people for likening the process to watching grass grow. And I don’t blame the “suits” for staying away.

But the irony of post-production in Hollywood is that having allowed the director to choose every shading of every line, costume, set dressing, camera angle and move, suddenly, at the preview, the

director loses his/her voice - in the name of “objectivity”. “Y ou’re too close to it” they say, while studying second-hand accounts of the barely coherent scrawlings of total strangers.

Well, market research may be okay for pet food and soap powder, but not with something as complex as a motion picture.

Here are a few stories the “experts” don’t tell: In 1977, Twentieth Century-Fox acquired an independent “pick­ up” made in England. After research, they asked the producerdirector to change its title, because market research held there were two words which were absolute poison at the box office: “w ar” and “star”.

I believe that the fact that the director and the editor have been in the trenches with the picture for so long gives them a better idea of its strengths - an d w eakn esses. And far from being too close, the extreme subjectivity of “creatives” should be harnessed.

Billy Wilder cut the opening of Sunset B ou lev ard 24 and Frank Capra talks at length in his book about cutting the entire first reel After market research on “Night Skies”, the script for the sequel of L o s t H orizon as a consequence of the to Columbia’s top-grossing picture of that agony he went through at a preview.25 He year, C lose Encounters o f the T hird K ind argues that those directly involved in the (Steven Spielberg, 1977), the “experts” rec­ Tfte track driver plays creative process are acutely sensitive to every ommended the project be put into “turna­ ripple and movement in the audience and that !* is playing tfia round ”27. Spielberg took it to Universal and game of all! previews have to be endured and analyzed made E.T. from one’s intimate knowledge of the mate­ Coincidentally, in the same year, Colum­ rial.26 Following his model, I make a point of bia held one of the most successful previews never screening even rough-cuts alone, since ever - for T he Wiz (1978). To my knowl­ I’ve found that when I’m anxious to get to the edge, its scores have only been bettered by next scene, there’s something wrong with the one picture since, Richard Brooks’ W rong is one we’re watching. For when a scene’s play­ Right (1982). In both cases, they were wrong. ing well, I want it to go on forever.

Which brings me to my fourth and final I submit the notion of “objectivity” is a beef with the process: The assumption that furphy - a weapon used in power politics. to any perceived problem th ere’s only on e Objectivity as opposed to what - passion, solution (always negative) - CUT. sensitivity, knowledge of the material ? It could If there really IS a problem, there are be argued that executives, who also sign on at several POSITIVE options. Re-writing, -cast­ script level (often b e fo r e the director), are not ing and -shooting are all expensive (espe­ objective either. But since it is they who pay cially on Australian films, where the producer the market researchers, it’s not surprising the has been encouraged to auction every prop objectivity argument is endorsed by “experts”, and costume that’s not nailed down before who are the very soul of it - being about as far post-production even starts). But from my away from the making of the picture as you experience, even the possibility of the rela­ can get. tively inexpensive option of post-syncing is David Niven once described critics as “eu­ generally overlooked as the distributors start nuchs in a brothel” - they watch all the time making proclamations like “the C O R R E C T but couldn’t for the life of them do it. As noted, length for this type of picture is ...” and the critics are reviled by movie executives and executives round on the director and editor distributors, yet market researchers, who are with scissors in their eyes.28 far more destructive (since they deal with the . S T A C Y K E iA C H a * m*? i -***.«• Imagine arguing that an abridged novel ■rRf&D *S,&L>'£0it ByROiAROfRANKLiN picture before it is finished, and cannot justify was always better than the “unabridged”, BARS'! IAY1.08 • . > . * . » £ BEfvVASD SCHWARZ ******** A n ^ ***** ^ their existence by saying that it should be left or that a “condensation” was so superior to alone), are treated as if they know the wherea­ the original that the manuscript and all bouts of the holy grail. Directors are treated copies should be destroyed. As crazy as it Movie ad offend» like they lost it.

How ran you see fit to print the ad for a sounds, this is the modern Hollywood credo. movie to be previewed at a local theater ■ The “experts” earn their money by de­ After the preview, the term “less is m ore” called Road (lamest This* ad depict« a woman being strangled with a chain by mystifying the whole process, turning a com­ takes on new and horrifying proportions one hand >*t a man. and v*ith the perpetra plex collaborative art form into a set of numbers and P. T. Barnum’s maxim “no one ever tor in the act of committing more mayhem wuh the other hand (which are then re-m ystified by them into a went broke by underestimating the Ameri­ Where i* vour conscience * secret formula with which they alone know can public” rules. The “experts” start talk­ 1 -ptak ;„r tl|i the «»inwr. the* com­ munity who tee! shucked and tinted how to turn dross into gold). They’re objec­ ing about Saturday morning television and that your otherwise fine paper would '.Pmp tive because they’ve been standing at the back, this low to displav this type of ad. how audiences are either “smarter” or CAfHERINKC WILLIAMS going in and out of the screening, readying “dumber” (according to their argument) * Lung Efeach forms, sharpening pencils, counting walk­ than when any relevant picture, of which outs or not even that. And if distance from the you quote the running time, was made. creative process is regarded as a good thing, Any suggestion that adding material that then in the competitive world of market re­ has already been removed may solve a prob­ search it’s almost an advantage to ignore the picture, since it’s then lem is seen as further evidence of creative “indulgence” . And “cut­ easier to act omniscient (or at least blasé). Distributors and execu­ ting” in the hands of a committee is a one-way process - “down” . tives do it by taking phone calls all through screenings. M arket As the whittling begins, “ doesn’t further the plot” is the catchcry, researchers do it by acting like they’ve seen it all; like they do this and the shadings, nuances and grace notes start to disappear. And every night of the week; like they were the ones who did the market since any writer worth his/her salt usually furthers the plot with at research on E.T. T h e E xtra-T errestrial (Steven Spielberg, 1982)and least one plot point per scene, the plot too starts to unravel as the know the secret of what made Star W ars (George Lucas, 1977) threads of “ indulgence ” are pulled at. By now the committee knows work. the picture so well that phrases like “we don’t need that” and “the

RQftU GIIIVIKS

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audience can make that j ump ” start to creep in; pretty soon the horse is becoming a very small camel. To quote Welles on A m berson s: “Using the argument of not central to the plot, what they took out was the plot.” ;-/ With the process at its worst, the committee can only finally pull out of its downward spiral when the running time has reached some notional minimum (a running time of under 90 minutes might suggest to the rest of the industry there were problems). Usually by then, even directors who have stayed aboard have totally lost their voice. Many abandon ship, some are seduced to stay with arguments like “You can either help us, or we’ll do it without you ”29, or the lock on the editing room door is changed.30 The final absurdity of the process is that ónce the picture has been “fixed”, even the market researchers (who would otherwise tell you the more times you paid them the better) do not ever suggest trying the end result on an audience.

To sum up, let me illustrate the “science” of the preview with an analogy: If motion pictures were dishes in a restaurant and “ex­ perts” were sent among the diners with the mandate that any 1 . Made in England for Thorn EMI. With the demise of that company, Link (along with:the rest of its library) passed through the hands of Universal, Alan Bond, Golan and Globus, and Jerry Weintraub, before coming to rest (minus some 15 minutes) with ???? [not known at time of publication]. I would offerto show each new owner my “director’s cut”, but they insisted on seeing the previous owner’s cut-down - then they’d cut it down further.

My version was shown only once, at the Avoriaz Festival in France, where . 1 it won the Jury Prize.

2

This is Orson Welles, Orson Welles and Peter Bogdanovich, edited by Jonathan Rosenbaum, HarperCollins, London, 1993.

3:

Wélles was to direct the omnibus documentary It’s All True for the Whitney-Rockefeller Committee for Inter-American Affairs, the same group which sponsored Disney’s Three Caballeros (Norman Ferguson, 1945).

4

With the U.S. entry into World W ar II, a civilian could not get a plane back to the U.S. Welles stayed in South America and, against thè odds, finished shooting It’s All Trúe. To his death, he was told this film (much of it in Technicolor) had been dumped, unprocessed, in the ocean. After his death, Paramount donated 2 8 0 ,0 0 0 feet of uncut negative to the American Film Institute, where it waits for someone to try and piece it together.

5 6

The enormous fire-place centrepiece of the jigsaw-puzzle scene, for exam­ ple, was actually from John Ford’s Mary o f Scotland (1936).

Even in its present form, The Magnificent Ambersons has been a regular on Sight and Sound’s ònce-in-a-decade “ 10 Best” list. In 1972, it rated equal ninth; in 1982, eighth (Citizen Katie was the no. 1 film each time).

Ambersons dropped out ùf the top ten in 1992, but still has a lot of support and Welles again came out as the most-favoured director of critics. See Sight and Sound, December 1992, pp. 18-30.

7

8

Welles once called Hollywood the best model train set a kid ever got to play with. [Ed.: Jean-Luc Godard also said, “May we be accursed if we ever forget that Welles, along with Griffith, started up the little train that was the movies. We will always owe him everything.”]

The first Magnificent Ambersons preview was with a Dorothy Lamour musical, The Fleet’s In (Victor Schertzinger, 1942). No wonder there was “laffter”.

I tried this method in Hollywood during the whittling of Link. Borrowing a USC cinema class, I got an entirely different reading of the picture, but when this was shown to the “experts”, it was dismissed with, “What d’ya expect when you talk to f***ing film-buffs?”

10 Hitchcock argues in Truffaut’s book, among others, that this scene was

9

integral to his concept and he NEVER wavered.

11 The sample is actually NO T representative, but skewed to the demography of the movie audience of predominantly under 25s. The entirely different demographic of the video market (now three times world box office) is therefore in the hands of no more than a handful of people. I’ve been told, for example, that “women over 50 think such and such”, when I’m aware only one such person attended.

12 I complained about the execution of temporary artwork for the preview of Cloak & Dagger ( 1984), which suggested Dabney Coleman as a pastry chef molesting Henry Thomas in a public lavatory.

13 AVCO on the other hand spent the money on final artwork for the Roadgames (1981) preview. Though beautifully executed, it apparently 20 • C I N E M A

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ingredient that anyone was even slightly dubious about would be removed from the kitchen, the only thing left on the menu would be “two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles, onions - on a sesame seed bun”.

And I’ve yet to meet an Australian who likes the pickles.

In the hands of those who are creatively involved in the filmmaking process, previews (formal or informal) are an extremely useful tool.

But market research as a pawn (rook, bishop, knight, queen or king) in a game of power politics can be extraordinarily destructive.

“Creatives” should be given at least an equal voice in the process as their interpretation of the data is uniquely informed.

If the process breaks down, play the different versions off, letting mutually acceptable “audiences” decide. But in case history proves them wrong, keep the elements of the other cut/s for posterity.

Editor’s Note: The Australian Film Commission is presenting a seminar on test screenings on 6, 7, 8 December in Sydney. For further information contact Sally Dray on (02) 951 6404.-

suggested an S&M biker movie (the ad actually drew fire in the local paper when we previewed the picture). And in spite of changes to the film (made behind my back), once the money had been spent on the ad, this feedback was never heeded and the picture went out with the ad unchanged.

14 I recall one card emblazoned with the words “projectionists union #73 are cock-suckers”. And this disturbed individual’s opinions went into the statistical pot along with the rest.

15 I commend readers to The Two Ronnies (Barker and Corbett) sketch about the fellow effusing about a play at intermission and being intimidated into hating it by a professional critic.

16 The Director’s Guild contract entitled me to two previews. So if I’d left one of “my” previews, it would have cost them about $ 10,000 for another (a sort of mistrial by dismissing the jdrors).

17 Such was the confidence of the head of their new studio, Irving Thalberg, that it went out unchanged. And brought the house down.

18 At Universal, they said they liked to preview with “real people” . Las Vegas was one of the “real” places within range and we met at a private strip at six, went by Lear jet and limo to a restaurant overlooking the theatre, where we were notified when they were ready to start. We were thus able to eat, slip in and out of the “real world” and be back in Hollywood before midnight.

19 For those who don’t know, laser is currently a treasure trove of such things and presents a possible saviour for the director’s vision - or any other for that matter. With digital editing, we may yet live to see “the èxec-producer’s wife’s cut”.

20 There’s a laser “Director’s Cut” of The Fisher King (Terry Gilliam, 1991).

21 I would argue this procedure is one of the reasons that previews have become the battlefront - though it’s possible that without it the front would just move back to the cutting room.

22 With modern computer editing (tape, laser and digital), all cuts can co-éxist.

23 He was vindicated, but in this case may have had his “creativity” on the line, since John Ford began only two weeks before shooting. A few years later, Zanuck did the opposite to the Ford-initiated My Darling Clementine (1946).

24 William Holden, as a corpse in the morgue, sits up and begins the narration now played over his body in the swimming pool.

25 The Name Above the Title, Frank Capra.

26 His studio boss, Harry Cohn, took this story to heart. Or rather he talked about his own restlessness in screenings, which led someone to ponder an “entire world wired to Harry Cohn’s ass”.

2 7 In turnaround, “creatives” are allowed to take the project elsewhere, provided that, IF it is produced, those who funded it are reimbursed for outof-pockets.

28 At Universal on Link, someone proclaimed the “correct” length for thrillers to be 98 minutes. I pointed out to them their most successful thriller of recent years, Psycho II ( 1983 ), ran 113. Another expert literally greeted me making a “scissor” sign with his fingers, saying, “Great picture but SNIP, SNIP / ” 29 At Cannon, they added the word “BADLY” to the threat.

30 James Cameron tells a wonderful “cobblers elf” story on one of his early pictures, in which he used to climb through the cutting room window and work all night. And no one was ever the wiser.

“Those who find most Aussie films irritatingly safe and serious may welcome this walk on the wild side“

VARIETY “...enjoyable.... perverse.... brilliant

SEATTLE POST “Like “Final Analysis” and “Fatal Attraction”, Howson’s film warns against thinking with our hormones, against wanting things we don’t need.

“Hunting” equates lust with sin and punishes obsession with rape and death”.

WASHINGTON POST “ .... it’s right up there with Brian De Palma’s “Scarface”, Luchino Visconti’s “The Damned”, and Adrian Lyne’s “91/2 weeks’ ”.

BOSTON GLOBE

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)

is a m u ch -lau d e d figure

o f th e A ustralian film in dustry fo r his script

o f S un day Too Far A w a y (Ken Hannam , 1 9 7 5 ). It is n o t o n ly o n e o f th e fin e s t films o f th e 19 70s renaissance, b u t o n e o f th e m ost loving and accurate p o rtrayals o f o u tb a c k m ateship. â&#x20AC;˘ Dingwall's next script, fo r B uddies (Arch N icholson, 1983:), c o n tin u e d th e analysis o f m ateship w ith th e story o f sapph ire m iners in an o u tb a c k Q u e e n s la p i to w n , w h e re th e m odern fo rc es o f m arket capitalism c o n fro n t som e o ld e r A ustralian virtues.

In 1 9 9 0 , Dingwall ch ang ed ta ck w ith th e psychological th riller, Phobia, w hich he also d ire c te d .

It g ain ed som e fa v o u ra b le no tices b u t had a tro u b le d release, as d id its p re d e c e s s o r. â&#x20AC;˘ DingwaM% la te s t p ro d u c tio n , The C ustodian, is a retu rn to a study o f m ateship. A n th o n y LaPaglia stars as James Q uinlan, th e o n e h o n e st co p in a c o rru p t p o lic e fo rc e . A t an e m o tio n al and moral g rou nd ze ro , he fights back w ith every trick he can m uster.

LEFT: WRITER-DIRECTOR JOHN DINGW ALL. ABOVE: QUINLAN (ANTHONY LAPAGLIA). JOHN D INGW ALL'S THE CUSTODIAN.

As I came on set yesterday, it was the second day of the ICAC inquiry into police corruption. Obviously it is a very topical issue right now.

Was it as current an issue when you started the script?

The^truth is there has been quite a deal of investigation into ^usjralianpolice forces for some years. I am an ex-police roundsman r^aewspaper journalist - and that’s been my observation. , W e haven’t used any actual incidents in T he C ustodian, how.eve'E;.^e have created our own police force and, indeed, almost our

own city. This story is representative of any major city in the world; it is not specific to an Australian city.

The one thing that does make the situation different to any other country’s is that the thing Australians value so highly - mateship has become perverted. It has been used to protect the guilty cops, even by cops who aren’t corrupt. Because of mateship, they will not say a word.

Is Quinlan, then, the “custodian” of our morals?

ABOVE: QUINLAN AND CHURCH (HUGO WEAVING).

FACING PAGE: Q0INLAN AND JU LY (ESSIE DAVIS). THE CUSTODIAN.

happened generally in Australian society over the past decade. We were rpotivated by grèèd.

In the 1950s, ’60s and ’70s, we had in Australia a strong moral base. In the 1980s, that went dpwri the gurgler. I think that now, ju$t for disparage reasons of purè survival, we have to look at ©ill own moral values. Our advantage is that we ire young and youthful as a country. We can turn around and do that. Things are not entrenched.

I think, for example, that war is becoming increasingly perceived as obscene. If you look at most of the wars in the world at the moment, they are happening within countries. Less and less are countries going to war against one another. That idea has become not only obscene but quite stupid to even consider.

With T he C ustodian, we have also tried to reflect in our casting the ethnic racial mix of Australia. (We had a wonderful casting agent in Alison Barrett.) There is the full spectrum of the ethnic Australian compilation of people. That is one of the things we have to come to terms with in this country. We have to stop judging people by their race and colour.

Precisely. Quinlan is not corrupt, but has turned a blind eye. In the end, he judges himself as guilty as the corrupt police. ; As we begin our story, Quinlan’s parents are dead, his marriage is busting up and he’s an extremely isolated man. Like most of us in times of stress, he searches for a philosophy with which he can survive.That’s why he begins to read and why he begins to question for the first time in 15 to 2 0 years his role as a policeman. He realizes helshould have been the custodian of the law.

I don’t want to shake a stick at anybody, and I don’t really care what other people do. But what I do think, purely as a filmmaker, is that to cast an ethnic race makes for an exciting film.

I have Gdsia Dobrowolska as Josie, the chief of staff. She’s a great actress, and she’s there for that reason.

So the film is a moral tale within the thriller genre?

With no explanation as to why she’s there?

I hope it is. I’m very aware that we make films to excite an audience, and that it has to have a really strong story which moves quickly.

But, yes, there is a moral tone to it.

Well, when Michael Caine plays in an American film, we don’t question his cockney accent. Why do we have to do it here? Why do we have a character say, “Yes, I have an American father and an Australian mother.” That’s all silly and part of our past.

Was there a trigger in the development and writing of the script?

Oh, yes. It is very clear for me.

I wanted to make a film about individual responsibility because I think, in the end, we as Australians have this habit of blaming the government and everybody else; we never blame ourselves. We are responsible for everything that happens to us. We have had the film industry we’ve deserved. W e are responsible for it and everything that happens to it. My film is really about individual responsibility.

Quinlan decides that the responsibility is his. He has taken the job as policeman; he is “the custodian”; he has the responsibility not to be corrupt and to bring down people who are.

Now, over and above wanting to make that story about indi­ vidual responsibility, there’s the business of the technique of making a film that people want to see. When P h ob ia was shown in competition at the Salsomaggiore Festival in Italy, I realized in the context of this very arts-orientated festival that my way is not the art-house way. My style is actually of the mainstream and I’m stuck with it.

So, what I set out to do was to make T he Custodian satisfy the mainstream without compromising the story. I had to develop the technique to do it.

Is T h e C u stod ian also a vehicle for you to editorialize on a politically hot potato?

I suppose it is. As a nation, we have to come to terms with a lot of moral issues.

We have to understand that a police force is there to protect the rights of the people. W hat’s happening in police forces is what 24 . C I N E M A

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Almost all Australian television, and many films, portray a very white Australia.

Is there a role for a filmmaker to play in society?

Very much so. We are aware of how important film is. We go and see film, we read about it, it’s with us all the time. It continually amazes me how important the business of telling stories has been through all the ages. Film is just the modern form of storytelling.

When telling what I regard to be a true story, my personal responsibility is to use the deyic^s that relate to truth. When I’m telling a fantasy, I must define what that fantasy is. In the past, people have got into a lot of trouble by being fooled by filmmakers, by thinking the fantasy they are watching is actually true - such as the usage of guns and the romanticized business of killing.

I am trying to define what I’m doing and keep to the truth of that.

I will pull back rather than go into something that happens in an exaggerated way. I will remind myself that my frame has to be within the boundaries of truth and reality.

When you do a drama, you can’t recreate life. You are creating a story and it’s not exactly what has happened anywhere. We have not based T he C ustodian on any particular cops or situation; we have created our own story. But there is truth in it.

W hat are some of the other key elements of your approach to this film?

When I go to the movies, I’m waiting for the filmmaker to make a mistake in terms of plot or character. I think to myself the character wouldn’t do that, he wouldn’t know that, he wouldn’t have th a t relationship. I’m aware of those things all the time.

We had a scene last night where Quinlan is going through a lot

of hard times; he’s emotionally in a very poor way. He arrives home by himself, takes off his shoes and then his gun, and puts it on the table. As he’s on the sofa watching television, he looks down at the gun. Now the thought is: “If I were dead, who would care?”

When I was setting this scene up, I could have gone for a situation where he had the gun in his hand. In fact, someone suggested that would be a better shot. But it’s too strong. Quinlan is not about the kill himself. So it’s a cheap trick, an easy shot, and in this story you have to avoid the cheap trick.

You sound as though there are a lot of disciplined, reasoned and rational foundations for your filmmaking. How do you actually work with such discipline?

I play games with myself to get work done. Fortunately, I’m fairly fast. I wrote P h o b ia in a week.

Usually, I put down a draft in a week. I try to write 10-12 pages a day and, when I’m really into my characters, I can write 20-30 a day. I’ll lock myself away and take no telephone calls. Sometimes I’ll sleep three times during the day, and then j ust get up and keep going.

At the end of the week, if I’ve written a screenplay, I’ll sit there and tell myself how wonderful I am to have written it in a week. I sit there and say “You are wonderful! I don’t give a damn whether it’s good or not, you have done this!”

One of things I’ve also learnt in recent years is to give each draft to people whose intelligence or opinion I respect. I tell them I’m not interested in what they like about it, just what bores them. I don’t look for solutions; I just want to know.

Actually, there is a wonderful consistency in the responses. We have basically the same reaction to a film, whether it’s good or bad.

I then think about everybody’s comments and do another draft.

Apparently, you also took a draft to New York and workshopped it with some writers.

You think from the perspective of Australia that we’re at the edge of the planet, a long way away from the centre of things. When you get to New York, you say to yourself, “My god, I don’t want to live like this. But what’s the point of making a film that isn’t relevant to the people here?”

So, while I was in New York, I arranged a workshop of a dozen American writers. I asked them to read the script and then had this script conference in the hotel room. I told them I was well down the path and I wanted them to talk about whether this story was relevant to them. Now, it’s very difficult to say to another writer I don’t like your script though that doesn’t worry me - 1 j ust wanted them to talk about it.

The main comment was: “Why would some­ body like Quinlan put himself at risk to do this?”

It really amazed me, because in this genre of American films guys are always doing these indi­ vidual acts. W hat those writers were really saying to me was, “W e accept that what you’ve written is true. And if it is true, why would he put himself at risk?”

I then gave the example of Donald McKay, the guy in Griffith, as to why people put themselves at risk. M cKay was warned of what he was doing and then he payed the ultimate price. Why did he do

many Americans died, but they were prepared to .” And the guys said, “Ah! To start with, the soldiers are better fed and there’s money and they are off the street by being in the army and going over there. Secondly, if they didn’t, they’d have gone to gaol. That’s their motivation.” I went, “Oh ... okay!”

They were right. So I did another draft of the script in New York.

I made the motivation for the Quinlan character much stronger.

I then met with my lead actor, Anthony LaPaglia, and had two 14-hour work sessions in the hotel. He actually turned to me at one stage and said, “This is why you become a star in this country - to have an opportunity to work like this with a director. ” On what basis did you get the writers together?

I just asked them!

Did you know them?

No, just through some writer contacts in New York. I worked through that process, very informally.

Would you do that again?

Oh, yes. It was the most wonderful night. When we got into it, we began to talk about writing and whatever. The first ones had already left, but, while I was standing at the door talking to others, they came back and we kept talking for half an hour or more. It was really fascinating.

The language of filmmaking is international, and they loved the script, which was really nice.

You speak of wanting Australian films to have relevance interna­ tionally. Can you define what you mean by that?

W hat we have done in the past in Australia is try and create a transatlantic accent, and import overseas stars and scripts. I don’t think that works. If you are true to your craft, and true to the business of making good films, it will be relevant.

In Australia, we have been untrue to our craft. You have to make a film for the audience, whereas we were making films for 10 years for the tax business. That’s when we became not relevant.

Basically what happens to us as people is the same the world over, whether it’s my own experience or someone’s in a primitive society.

And the business of storytelling is to observe, have an opinion and then tell that story.

that?

Now, when I put this to the American writers, they looked at me a little bemused, because I was relating my script to actuality and to truth. They said, “Yes, but why would your character do it?”

I thought, “Hah, here’s a solution” and said, “Y ou’ve just had a war in the Middle East. Not CINEMA

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But you also said you wanted to take the opportunity of talking to writers in New Y ork so you could make it relevant to people there.

When you rewrite a script, you try to make your story better. The more opinion you get about that, the better.

It’s easy to misinterpret what I was doing there. I didn’t ask them how to make the film a box-office success in New Y ork. I was asking how the detail, the meat of the story, was relevant to their lives.

Because they are writers, they were able to have a sophisticated conversation with me in those terms. They were able to talk as I would about their scripts. I can see an American film and talk about the relevance of it.

In Australia, we are not paying enough attention to our craft, as though we are selling out. American and English writers work very much like actors and directors. It’s a continual process; if they are not making films, they are working. We don’t do that, because of the “she’ll be right on the day, mate” attitude. The reason I did 17 drafts of T h e C ustodian is because draft 16 wasn’t good enough.

Four years ago I deliberately set out to solve my problems as a scriptwriter. I wanted to come up with the most stunning story. I wanted to be sure that when I went to New Y ork whomever I gave the script to would say it was a very strong.

I’m in the business of raising money, so that was one of my key elements. They might not have given me the money, but they would have actually had the regret, at least, because it was a strong story.

One of the things about Australian filmmaking is that our stories haven’t been strong enough. W e’ve asked the audience to bring a lot to the cinema, and that happened with Sunday T o o Far Away. I actually remember showing the film to a group of international writers who were here for a conference, and they said at the end, “We think it was a great story, but we didn’t understand very much of it. ” That was because I was using such terms as “go an’ get stuffed, mate! ” And as they were trying to figure that one out, I was hitting them with another colloquialism of the Australian language.

So my process all the time today is to think about the audience, to think about what I’m doing in terms of telling my story.

The top-grossing Australian films of recent times areGeoffrey Wright’s R o m p er S tom per and Baz Luhrmann’s Strictly B a llro o m .1 Both are vibrantly told, strong, contemporary stories with clear moral elements: the individual against conformity in Strictly B a ll­ r o o m , and the alienation of suburban youth and neo-Nazi gangs in suburban Melbourne in R o m p er Stom per. Do you think these films signal a new watershed in Australian filmmaking?

A watershed not only in Australian filmmaking, but in world filmmaking.

I have been saying to whomever would listen for the past two years that our best five years as filmmakers are ahead of us. Almost to my own surprise, when I saw Strictly B allroom I thought, “This is the first.” (I haven’t seen R om p er S tom per yet.)

We are at a point in time where we have incredible energy. We are going to be one of the leading filmmakers in the western world for the next decade or so.

When I was writing television in the 1970s - H om icid e, D ivision 4, M atlock P olice - we were all so hungry to make feature films that there was this incredible energy. We didn’t know how to, and there was this big problem of American domination, but we did it - almost out of naïveté. I certainly did Sunday T o o Far A w ay from a sense of naïveté. , ■ • I In the 1980s, we lost the plot. I was one of the people who was highly critical of the tax films and felt that all they did was train our technicians. While that’s fine in itself, it is not what Our eountry’s film industry is really about. v j. j\ t I p W hat has happened now, as we go into the 1990s, isthat w;e have wonderful technicians and actors, we once again realize that box office is important arid we are putting a loffmore work inio the 26 • C I N E M A

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screenplays. Add to that the energy which relates to our youth as a country, and we stand in good stead.

I am really excited about the next five years and intend to make quite a lot of films. I think a lot of people will be making a lot of very good films.

1

Interview recorded before the release of The Piano (Jane Campion, 1993) and The Heartbreak Kid (Michael Jenkins, 1993).

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Sunday T o o Far A w ay was written about my brother in law, who is a gun shearer. I went out and did my research, but the question was: “How do I title the film?” I then heard this song, “The Shearer’s W ife’s Lament”, and I took out some of the lyrics and made that the title. I did it instinctively, and it worked - it’s a great title.

With B u ddies, a film I shot in 1982, I did the same instinctive thing. The reason I called it B uddies was that when these guys are really angry at each other they call each other “buddy”. I was too subtle by half.

As it turns out, there was also a film made at the same time in American about homosexuality and AIDS called Buddies. But B uddies was the wrong title, anyway.

Good film, though ...

It was a good film, but an undefined one. It was a seat-ofthe-pants film.

Its problem was that it was a grunt film. You couldn’t extract any shots of our leading characters that didn’t have them with blue singlets on and hairy armpits show­ ing. But the people who like those films instinctively knew it wasn’t for them - that we didn’t kill anybody and that it was a comedy. But the people that would’ve liked the film were turned off by the very same images.

I actually took B uddies on the road in Queensland for about three months, showing it night after night in various halls. That helped me realize that I had made a film nobody wanted to see, but when they saw it they actually loved it.

I gave the CWA ladies the tea concession each time and they would drag along their tired farmer husbands. I knew they were only there because they were pushed into it. But they loved the film, and almost invariably they would surround me and shake my hand and say it was one of the best films they’d ever seen.

Now, when you show the same film night after night for three months, you actually begin to have extraordi­ nary thoughts. One night, I thought about the road toll.

In NSW, approximately 1,000 people are killed each year. Now, if there were such a thing as chance, there would be 1,000 killed one year and 5,0 0 0 the next. But it essentially stays at the same level. So, there are elements that contribute to what we think of as chance.

I then began to play around with reasons why people go to see a film, trying to reduce the odds. With T he C ustodian, I spent three rnonths researching and testing the title. What I discovered, and this is criticism levelled at Australian writers, is that not enough work goes into what the hell we’re doing. W hat I discovered, when I actually got my title, was that I had defined the story.

your boutique distributor Magic Hoot Entertainment Is proud to announce the forthcoming releases of: DEATHOFA NEAPOLITAN MATHEMATICIAN

by Mario Martone Grand Jury Prize, Venice 1992

MEMORIESAND DREAMS

by Lynn-Maree Milbuni selected for Venice 1993

FIORILE

by Paolo & Villorio Taviani in competition, Cannes 1993

n

v

The Documentary Conference

THEESCORT

Dy RicKy Tognazzi in competition, Cannes 1993

2 DEC-5 DEC-GOLDEN GATE HOTELSYDNEY

Registrations close 8 October

ABYSSINIA

by Francesco Martinotti Critics'WecK, Cannes 1993

For further information,program and latest news contact the Conference office For more information H c/- FILM AUSTRALIA 101 ETON RD LINDFIELD NSW 2070 • PO BOX 46 LINDFIELD NSW 2070 TELEPHONE: 61 2413 8565 • 61 2 413 8777 • FACSIMILE: 61 2 416 5672 • TELEX: 22734 CINEMA

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“We’ll never get enoush ♦♦♦ M A N BITES DOG, DOCUMENTARY THEORY AND OTHER ANDALSIAN ETHICS

’est Arrivé Près d e C hez Vous (M an Bites D og) is a hybrid of two relatively new g en res: the serial k ille r film and the ‘mocumentary’. The Belgian creators, Rémy Belvaux, André Bonzel and Benoit Poelvoorde, made the film for a mere $ 1 0 0 ,0 0 0 on the verge of being expelled from film school. The resulting product is the sort of film that moral conserva­ tives and documentary traditionalists love to hate - a fake cin ém a vérité profiling the day-today life of a psychopathic murderer. In fact, it is the kind of production that top BBC executives claim, as they did with Peter W atkins’ T he W ar G a m e (1967), “would cause old women to jump in front of moving buses” . The generally-received idea behind this attitude is that any deliberate or provocative manipulation of the truth under the realist mode is nothing less than cultural heresy. Realism equals veracity.

The real controversy behind M an Bites D o g is not so much its ethical and graphic discourse on violence, but rather its sublime challenge to that established documentary tenet regarding formal­ ism: “It if ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” M an Bites D o g rephrases the critical question as “If it ain’t working, why use it?”

As would be expected, M an Bites D o g has received the same sort of criticism regarding its portrayal of serial killing as did H enry: P ortrait o f a Serial K iller (John McNaughton, 1990) and T he Silence o f th e L a m b s (Jonathan Demme, 1991). All these films automatically evoked Nile’s Law1 and were immediately criticized by myopic puritans for their explicit and amoral depictions of violence. Yet, ironically, this continual refusal by the moral majority to enter into any intellectual discourse on the topic of screen violence, outside hysteria, is strangely identical in tone and manner

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to the very criticism they themselves level at such films. All is quiet in the western mind, intellectually speaking.

W hat is definitely frightening about all these films is not the explicitness of their expression (the moral MacGuffin, if you like), but rather the implicit context in which it is placed for our analysis.

The provocative manner in which M an B ites D o g aggressively challenges the complicity of both the media in general and its audience in particular is, to my mind, far more disturbing than any gratuitous display of prosthetic foam and fake blood.

M an Bites D o g ’s use of the ‘mocumentary’ form is in itself nothing new. Gillo Pontecorvo, Peter W atkins, Woody Allen and Peter Greenaway, among others, have flirted with, undermined and confused narrative authority and veracity while working within the strict documentary mode, creating this new rhetorical form. Even in fiction films, playing with objectivity in the expected place of | subjectivity is the oldest emotional trick in the book and has been used by every filmmaker since Hitchcock was knee-high to Griffith. ?

Brian De Palma in particular has based a whole career on putting his i ‘objective’ tracking camera in the hip pocket of psychopaths from

Hi, M om ! (1970) all the way to T he U ntouchables (1987).

The employment of this voyeuristic tracking camera is only one ideological step removed in terms of its generic context from the reactionary menace that is located in the bowels of the horror genre: the ‘stalk-and-slasher’ film. Simply replace young teenage girls in their underwear next to open bedroom windows as ‘victim’ with the economically and socially oppressed as documentary spectacle and you can see the atavistic line of this particular genealogy. Witness the voyeuristic economy of those minute tragedies of life that television news and current affair programmes are so wonderfully adept at condensing into two-minute bites: Noam Chomsky goes raving ape bonkers with a chainsaw.

In the light of recent media coverage of stand-offs and sieges in NSW, Man Bites D og can easily be read from an Australian

perspective as a caustic, self-reflexive litany of intrusive post-vérité documentary technique - the Hinch/Willesee/Wendt-asthmaticcameraperson-bashing-down-the-door-of-the-shonky-used-carsalesman school of documentary realism. Such perverted daily acts of ‘media cannibalism’ are not strictly restricted to aspects of over­ determination in content, but bastardize form and technique as well. Even on the ABC, that bastion of journalistic integrity, the dramatized re-creation has become just another rhetorical trope, the standard narrative device signifying historical accuracy and authority. “Ce n’est pas arrivé prés de chez vous?” Well, just flick on any television channel after the news any weeknight for proof.

Ever since Robert Flaherty cut the igloo in half in order to get more light in the shot, there has always been something fishy about ‘classical’ documentary form and its ‘inherent’ relationship to veracity. As Brian Winston warned us when he attacked the Griersonian theorists’ positioning of Flaherty as progenitor of what is essentially a false history of documentary theory, “I Think W e’re in Trouble ... ” And do these three Belgians know it!

Perhaps the film’s most unsettling effect is the audac­ ity with which it blatantly indicts the media in the very act of constructing its own veracity. In scene after scene, M an Bites Dog's m ise-en-scène denounces the passive voyeurism of the audience as easily as the fake docu­ mentary crew allow themselves to become willing ac­ complices to the serial killer’s heinous crimes. In the process of ‘objectively’ documenting Ben (Benoit Poelvoorde), the crew identify approaching threats with their zoom lens; help him dispose of his heavier bodies; pursue, hold down and suffocate a fleeing child; use their ‘respectability’ to allow Ben access to the homes of potential victims; and, in the uncensored version, par­ ticipate in a gang rape of one of Ben’s victims. This befits what B. Ruby Rich identifies as “the ultimate filmschool revenge film: you thought I was bad, well, take this." Consequently, in M an Bites D o g , subtlety is deliberately conspicuous by its absence.

FACING PAGE: BEN (BENOIT POELVOORDE) WITH CORPSE. LEFT: PATRICK (JEAN-MARC CHENUT), THE SOUND RECORDIST, AND BEN. RÉMY BELVAUX, ANDRÉ BONZEL AND BENOIT POELVOORDE'S C'EST ARRIVÉ PRÉS DE CHEZ VOUS (MAN BITES DOG).

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A PUBLICITY SHOT OF BEN FOR THE FILM MAN BITES DOG.

Like D elicatessen (Jean-Pierre Jeunet and M arc Caro, 1991), the film’s mixture of Gallic guignol and deadpan frankness should be placed in the context of contemporary French popular culture and its often startling grossness to an Anglophile. Consider it the cinematic equivalent of stumbling across a book of [Jean-Marc] Reiser or Wolinski cartoons in a FNAC bookshop for the first time.

However, what the film lacks in tact and sensitivity is more than compensated for by its raw, discursive rigour. M an Bites D og almost approaches a meta-analysis of the cinematic apparatus itself.

The very act of filmmaking becomes a microcosmic metaphor of the entire capitalistic enterprise, a form which feeds both off and on itself. Hannibal Lecter now runs the projector.

This comparison is made explicit in M an Bites D og by the fact that the crew profits quite clearly and directly from Ben’s criminal acts, both in terms of spectacle and capital. When the crew runs out of money, it transpires that Ben himself is actually subsidizing this documentation of his life and crimes. Film financing, and documen­ tary filmmaking in particular, are directly linked here to the misfortunes of others. The contradictions of capitalist art are made viscerally clear - an æsthetic system which thrives on the suffering of many (the weak, vulnerable and unrepresented) for the elucida­ tion of the few (the ‘cultured’, bourgeois art-house cinéastes).

The placement of Ben as the offspring of an apparently decent and normal shop-owning family is deceptively cunning. Politically, M an B ites D o g saves its most pointed criticism for the petitbourgeois pétainistes shopkeepers themselves - those very people who, despite the veneer of education and the trappings of western culture, are, in fact, in thrall to an unrelenting economic fascism.

Natural moral reaction though it may be, it would be hypocritical of us to particularly over-emphasize Ben’s status as psycho-sociopath without acknowledging the genesis of the problem: that is, an aspiring middle-class family structure based on the profit motive, race and gender difference, and the acceptance of violence. The horrors that Ben enacts upon society are indeed all too close to home.

It is logical, therefore, that M an Bites D o g might more easily be defined as a horror film rather than a documentary satire. In accordance with Robin W ood’s thesis concerning the “return of the repressed” in the horror film, the monster that is the serial killer can 30 • C I N E M A

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be seen here as the natural expres­ sion of the surplus sexual and political tension that bourgeois society strives so desperately to conceal. Ben, the serial killer, is simultaneously fils loy al and pas­ sionate son of the bourgeoisie, the logical product of a social system in crisis and the manifestation of excess in a society brimming with contradictory tensions.

These contradictions are no b e tte r p erso n ified th an in Poelvoorde’s performance as Ben. He is at once the quintessence of the European renaissance man and the embodiment of Visigoth and Vandal. Little by little, parenthe­ sized only by the shockingly ex­ plicit murders, the brilliantlystructured (yet apparently ran­ dom) dialogue, reveals the multi­ tudinous contradictions of his personality. Namely, how can an intellectual sesthete with a strong religious morality and a yearning for poetics, music and ornithol­ ogy be simultaneously a racist and homophobic cold-blooded assassin? Considering the rigorous ideological agenda underlying M an Bites D og, this proposition is very easy to contextualize and understand.

If Ben seems to be acting as if he were starring in a movie based on his life, it is not entirely unintentional. He is. M an Bites D og, of necessity, performs some amazing theoretical contortions in order to substantiate its self-reflexive position. Like Frankenstein’s mon­ ster, Ben’s psychopathic behaviour, an image initially created and celebrated by the media, inevitably turns against its creator. N ot only does Ben perpetually hint that his actions may have been influenced in some way by certain films, but Poelvoorde’s continual exhibitionism and deliberately mannered performance cunningly exposes how the subject’s behaviour, in even the most ‘realistic’ documentary, will always be modified by the presence of a camera and the accommodation of an ego.

To misappropriate B.A.D. on Nicolas Roeg in its song, “E = me2” : “ ... at the centre o f the docum en tary universe, som etim es notions g et reversed. Subject/object relations are inversed. ” One of the unavoidable implications of M an Bites D o g is that Ben, more so than the crew, demonstrates an acute understanding of the ethics behind the tenuous subject/object relationship in documentary theory. Ben is often heard to complain about the lack of teamwork.

In fact, what he is indicating is that both sides of the camera are working towards the same end: capital profit off other people’s misfortunes - misfortunes the crew have caused, if not deliberately, as in the case of Ben, then certainly exacerbated by their complicity and false sense of objectivity. Literally acting as both cast and crew, Belvaux, Bonzel and Poelvoorde ruthlessly expose the mendacity of the media and its persistent tendency to obliterate, then manipulate, ‘truth’ in order to make it conform respectively to the ideological and economic agendas of bias and sensationalism.

The film abounds with a number of economical and brilliantlyrealized metaphors which exemplify this consumptive process of ‘media cannibalism’: the desire to seek the weak and feed the need for sensationalism. Two items in particular remain indelibly lodged in the mind. After documenting Ben’s snuff murder of a granny, the crew is invited by him to dinner. There then follows a tense and embarrassing scene where the crew delicately-tries to refuse his

invitation. Indeed, part of the overall tension of M an Bites D og derives from the fact that the audience is waiting for Ben to eventually turn on the film crew. This becomes the central metaphor and ethical dilemma of the film: to accept Ben as subject is to condone his actions as object. The ambivalent echo of the 1960s mantra, “If you’re not part of the solution, you’re part of the problem”, reverberates onto the post-realist ’90s.

The other telling sequence involves a running gag, perhaps inspired by Spinal Tap’s spontaneously combusting drummers, which concerns the mortality rate of sound recordists working on the crew. As the director offers a direct camera elegy lamenting the accidental death of one of his soundmen during a shoot-out, he says, “Right before he died I told him, ‘Come on, I’ve got enough footage.’ And he said, ‘W e’ll never have enough ...’ ” To say this attitude is understated in the film would be a gross understatement.

Never was there a neater analogy for the media’s insatiable and unrelenting desire for news at any cost.

M an B ites D o g concludes with a devastatingly clear and simple metaphor: killing is the same as documentary filmmaking. In pursuit of ‘truth’ - the holy grail of documentary theory - the end will alw ays j ustify the means. Anything can be j ustified. And you can get away with murder, either literally in the case of Ben or figuratively regarding the crew’s respect for ‘truth’. Even Eisenstein and Vertov, during Stalin’s aesthetic pogrom, sensed too late (to their chagrin) that the ethics of realist veracity are inevitably as in thrall to the political agendas of the dominant culture as Narcissus was to his reflection.

M an B ites D og's persistent exploitation of ‘cannibalism’ as a formal metaphor is not, however, solely restricted to the ‘other’ as voyeuristic object. By inverting Vertov, Bonzel’s camera acts as a metonymy for the sadistic gaze which eventually turns its destruc­ tive kin o-glaz back on itself. At a particularly tense moment in the film, the crew of M an Bites D o g enters into a shoot-out with a television video crew that is simultaneously documenting another serial killer trying to kill Ben. In a very black and literal pun on the purists’ position regarding the superiority of film to video, our film crew, inspired by Ben’s killing of his rival, proceeds in turn to slaughter the surprised video crew. The expression “shooting a doco” takes on an entirely new resonance in this film.

Jean Renoir, in sympathetic defence of the compassion he felt for his characters, once claimed that “disasters occur because everyone has their own reasons” . Ironically, Belvaux, Bonzel and Poelvoorde are not so far removed from Renoir’s philosophy of relative humanism themselves. For instance, witness the following ex­ change between the crew and the killer’s childhood friend, Valerie:

(

MARGARET

SMITH

)

Tom Zubryki's "Homelands" he documentary films of Tom Zubrycki have always been provocative and controversial. Some, such as K em ira - D iary o f a Strike (1984) and Friends an d E nem ies (1987), have created new boundaries for independent political films. Zubrycki’s Broomebased films, L o r d o f the Bush (1990) and Bran N u e D ae (1991), were not so memorable, but now with the release of H om elan d s Zubrycki has become a major contributor to an understanding of our national psyche.

Zubrycki’s film is a portrait of a marriage, an exploration of psychological and cultural displacement, and a depiction of fringe dwelling which some Australians are forced to call home. Zubrycki also briefly appears in the film to reveal that his parents were also refugees. From the start, we learn that this is a personal film, and a journey of discovery for the filmmaker.

The complex world of brutal régimes, and the tragic aftermath on the minds and bodies of refugees sets the context. M aria and Carlos Robles escaped from El Salvador eight years ago to a new world in Melbourne, Australia, where they try to maintain their culture and sense of family.

T

MARIA ROBLES AND CHILD. TOM ZUBRYCKI'S HOMELANDS.

Crew: Do you know Ben’s trade?

Valerie: Some trade!

Crew: Doesn’t it bother you?

Valerie: I don’t pry into his work. Everyone’s got to eat.

As would be expected in a ‘mocumentary’ essentially structured around a single self-reflexive conceit, M an Bites D o g deliberately allows itself to be hoisted by its own petard, and finishes in the only way it knows how. By the end of the film, a long anticipated Old Testament morality comes into play: those who live by the sword, die by the sword.

The moral majority’s conditioned panic is, once again ironically, not without some justification. They should quite rightly finger this film for censorship, but not because unbalanced individuals may become sociopathic after seeing it, but because they might want to become documentarists.

1

T h e com p reh en sion o f any given R -rated film is inversely p rop ortion al to the a m o u n t o f tim e actually sp en t view in g it. T his is an an tip od ean derivation o f W h ite h o u se ’s A xiom : T h ose w h o d o n o t see k n o w the m ost.

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Zubrycki uses the cinematic device of having Carlos talk in voice-over about M aria’s adaptation, while M aria describes Carlos’ difficulties to dramatize their prob­ lems not only as refugees, but also as a couple. M aria is a community-development officer in a centre for South Americans, teaching them how to survive in Australia.

In El Salvador, it was Carlos who worked as a teacher and guerilla warfare instructor. In Australia, he can only get work as a cleaner.

The contrasting images of M aria’s and Carlos’ workplaces are poignant and re­ vealing.

Zubrycki introduces us to their family at a party for the eldest daughter’s coming-ofage, where a complex ritual ensues that delights Maria and embarrasses Carlos.

Around the walls of the hall the ‘multi-cultural’ crowd look on, trying to give encouragement. But Carlos is uncomfortable, prepar­ ing for his journey back to El Salvador, which he feels compelled to undertake.

Carlos’ departure allows Maria to tell her own story, and to use the camera as a form of therapy. She talks about her memories of El Salvador, the rape and the violence she experienced as a prisoner, and about her own fear of domestic violence in her relationship with Carlos in Melbourne. But unlike Dennis O ’Rourke’s T he G o o d W om an o f B an g k o k (1992), Zubrycki does not sensationalize his material, which makes it poignant and extremely sensitive.

The film makes a major turning point when Carlos does not return after six months in El Salvador. Maria impulsively decides to set out to see him and she invites the film crew along. Here again Zubrycki must decide how much to intrude as a filmmaker into their reunion, how much to be a voyageur.

It soon becomes obvious that, though Carlos had been uncom­ fortable with the film crew’s presence, Maria is using them for her own home movie. But when they reach the region where Carlos is now conducting education and survival programmes for ex-gueril­ las, he also uses the camera to bear witness to his new life and sense of purpose.

Zubrycki’s own voice-over adds a further dimension, and the layers build to an extremely intimate and sensitive documentary, which has all the power and nuance we have come to expect from fictional feature films. H om elan ds even has a subplot in its depiction

of an older South American couple, and their willingness to play for the camera introduces a new, lighter tone. Their placement in the barren landscape on the fringes of Melbourne becomes almost lyrical through the eyes of this film.

H om elan ds was voted the second most popular documentary at the Sydney Film Fes­ tival and is having a theatrical release through the Valhalla in October. It deserves to be seen on the big screen, because of its compelling images, empathetic characters, multi-layered storyline and sheer force of its narrative. In this year’s AFI Awards, H om elan d s is competing with E xile an d the K ingdom and K an g aroos Faces in the M o b , which makes the best docu­ mentary for 1993 a difficult choice.

IN TER V IEW W ITH

TOM

ZUBRYCKI

In H om elan ds, you are mainly dealing with the subterranean world of people’s emotions. Why did you make that decision?

I really felt I had reached a point in my work where I wanted to explore the complexities of social life, including the psychological, as opposed to the political, layers. I’ve been drawn more towards individuals. I’ve always had individuals epitomizing the kinds of issues that my films are about. But H om elan ds depended so much on building a relationship with a family, and one individual in particular.

I wanted to unravel all the complexities of a basic issue: that of being pulled between two different homelands. It’s an issue that is so fundamental to the migration process. I thought the way to explore it was not doing a whole range of interviews, but to take one’s time and try to explore the issues through one family and the events the family is drawn into.

How did you set about constructing the narrative?

I could plot the storyline almost from the beginning. I knew there was a significant point when Carlos left. W hat I didn’t anticipate was Maria actually making the decision to go back to El Salvador.

W e’d actually constructed the rough-cut when she decided to go.

The fact that we went with her somehow brought the whole process to a catharsis. There was a psychodrama happening. The camera, I believe, helped Maria and Carlos to actually work out their relationship. Their marital conflict seemed to be played out in front of the ‘camera-as-witness’.

Did you consciously seek out dramatic images?

Yes. I consciously wanted the images to work emotionally and poetically to heighten the main narrative. Early on, I began to see the film as a classic narrative with main characters, a sub-plot and two turning points. I also quite liked the use of images in T he G o o d W om an o f B a n g k o k , al­ though there were other elements of the film that I found problematic. I liked the fact that the key subject was able to talk for long periods of time, uninterrupted and uncut. Similarly in H om elan d s, M aria’s monologue about her experience of being tortured, and later about her husband’s infidelity, are also very compelling because they’re long. It’s also an implicit statement against the grotesque, packaged voyeurism you usually get in the coverABOVE: DIRECTOR TOM ZUBRYCKI. LEFT: MARIA AND CARLOS ROBLES. HOMELANDS.

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age of similar issues on commercial television. There is no way that a story like M aria’s could be contained in a magazine report, or even a standard-length documentary for that matter.

How did your relationship with M aria and Carlos develop?

M y relationship with them wasn’t fantastic to begin with. There was a lot of tension and friction in their relationship and I needed to tread carefully. When Carlos left for El Salvador, my relationship with M aria developed quite quickly. We needed each other, I suppose. With a film like this, your role as a filmmaker becomes complicated and confused, because you’re not just a filmmaker, you’re a counsellor and a friend. When that happens you lose a level of detachment, and your social and ethical responsibility as a filmmaker increases.

During the filming, I sent them the rushes so they could see what we had shot. That meant they were getting something and we were getting something.

At the end, they saw the fine-cut because I felt the material was so private, personal and revealing that Maria and Carlos had to see it to make sure they were comfortable with what we had done, that there wasn’t any misrepresentation or distortion. I was extremely nervous, but they were fine. It was my ethical and social responsi­ bility as a filmmaker. Making these kinds of films is a two-way, reciprocal process.

(

ANNA

DZENIS

)

“One Way Street: Fragments for Walter Benjamin”

Did you always intend to have a counterpoint to the main storyline?

Yes, I always did. The counterpoint of the two older people makes the film more universal. It implies that, while some relationships disintegrate when you move to another country, others form.

There were other reasons: to emotionally lighten the film, engender some humour. Plus, there’s no rule against having a sub­ plot in a documentary. It can only add complexity and depth to the film. Finally, it allowed me to use the barren, outer-suburban landscapes, which contrast so much with El Salvador and say so much about the migrant experience. It’s these stark images of the fringe area of an Australian city that partly inspired me to make this film. It accentuated and dramatized for me the psychological adjustments that had to be made by people who’d just arrived from the harrowing experience of being in a war zone.

Ray Thomas has an associate producer credit. Is that because you like to work with your editors in a collaborative way?

He’s someone I can bounce ideas off at the very start. I don’t have a producer. I’m a producer-director. Ray helped me early to make the decision between three different families. Barbara Mariotti, SBS’ executive producer, was also fantastic, both at the rushes and rough-cut stages.

Would the film have been made without an SBS pre-sale?

SBS is willing to tackle the tougher, more difficult documentaries, and take risks with filmmakers with a track record like myself. The ABC is very ratings-driven at the moment. Also, taking the film from 50 minutes to 79 minutes was not a problem for SBS. They also gave me a theatrical window, which is harder to negotiate with the ABC. Has H om elan d s opened up filmmaking for you?

Yes, a lot, because I inserted myself into the film, and I had never done that before. Setting up a relationship with someone in your film and not acknowledging that worries me now.

In the beginning of H om elan d s, I reveal my own background.

M y parents were refugees, but from a different time and a different place. It freed me up incredibly, stylistically. There was certain information I could also impart, and it made the links work better.

M y next film will, I’m sure, revolve around the product of a strong relationship with whomever the character or subject is, because I think it creates the best documentaries.

JEWISH-GERMAN PHILOSOPHER WALTER BENJAMIN. PHOTO: GERMAINE KRULL, PARIS, 1927.

And this thinking, fed by the present, works with the ‘thought fragments’ it can wrest from the past and gather about itself. Like a pearl diver who descends to the bottom of the sea, not to excavate the bottom and bring it to light but to pry loose the rich and the strange, the pearls and the coral in the depths, and to carry them to the surface, this thinking delves into the depths of the past - but not in order to resuscitate it the way it was and to contribute to the renewal of extinct ages. What guides this thinking is the conviction that although the living is subject to the ruin of the time, the process of decay is at the same time a process of crystallization, that in the depths of the sea, into which sinks and is dissolved what once was alive, some things ‘suffer a sea-change’ and survive in new crystal­ lized forms and shapes that remain immune to the elements, as though they waited only for the pearl diver who one day will come down to them and bring them up into the world of the living - as ‘thought fragments’, as something ‘rich and strange’ ...

- Hannah Arendt1

W

riter-producer-director John Hughes’ O ne W ay Street: Fragm ents fo r W alter Benjam in is a loving evocation of the work and life of Walter Benjamin. Hughes began working on O ne Way Street in 1989. It was funded for development by the Austral­ ian Film Commission, with an ABC TV pre-sale agreement. The television release was 1992 - the centenary year of Walter Benj amin’s birth - but is now having a cinema release as well.

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LEFT: ASSISTANT A R t DIRECTOR WAIN FIMERI, CO-WRITER PAUL DAVIES AND WRITER-DIRECTOR JOHN HUGHES. FACING PAGE: JOHN HUGHES AND DRAMA DOP NICOLETTE FREEMAN. BELOW: MARK ROGERS AND LOUISE SMITH IN THE 'BERLIN BAR'. JOHN HUGHES' ONE WAY STREET: FRAGMENTS FOR WALTER BENJAMIN.

O ne W ay Street begins and ends with a dramatization of Benjamin’s suicide, in 1940 in Portbou, on the Franco-Spanish border. This functions as a framing device in a non-linear biography which discloses itself through fragments of cinema, interviews, theatrical reconstructions and voices speaking as if recounting memories, montaged with documentary sequences of events, streets, train stations and marketplaces.

Hughes has taken it upon himself to journey to New York, Portbou, Paris, Russia and Berlin, partly to retrace the steps of Benjamin, partly to find resonance in the present. Meanings and significances multiply, reflect and act as counterpoint to each other.

Different encounters deflect Hughes onto other journeys. Susan Buck-Morss, author of D ialectics o f Seeing: W alter Benjam in an d the A rcades P roject, leads him through St. Marks bookshop, tracing a history of Benjamin’s reception in the U.S. in the different displays, shelves and categories. Gary Smith, author and collector, searches amongst the pillars, paintings and glass cabinets of the “Jewish Life” exhibition in the Martin Gropius Bau gallery. The camera follows, and together we discover Paul Klee’s “ Angelus Novus”, an oil painting coloured with acquarelle, which had originally been acquired by Benjamin in 1921. According to testimony, this paint­ ing was a kind of spiritual talisman and focus of meditation for Benjamin. References to Klee’s angel also repeatedly occur in Benjamin’s correspondence and is a pivotal metaphor in his “Theses on the Philosophy of History”.

Such conversations that Hughes has with Benjamin scholars, publishers and cultural producers give some sense of the range of contemporary work motivated by Benj amin. They also provide a testament to the enthu­ siasm and fascination there is with Benjamin in the present. In part, there is the enigma, the mystery, what is not known and what is not knowable. Michael Jennings, author of D ialectical Im ages, suggests there are as many Benjamins as there are thinkers. The environmental sculptor, Dani Karavan, describes Benjamin’s life and death as a mystery, pointing in particular to the fact that no one knows where he is buried. Lindsay Waters, publisher for Harvard Uni­ versity Press, speaks of the sense that there is an iceberg out there of untranslated Benjamin writing of which in English we have only accessed the very tip.

Susan Buck-Morss discusses the issue, as dramatized at the beginning of the documentary, of whether or not there really was a completed magnum opus {Das P assagen W erk) which was lost as Benjamin fled to his 34 • C I N E M A

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suicide. Buck-Morss argues that there couldn’t have been any such manuscript, that the very notion would have been quite contrary to the spirit and method of Benjamin. However, nothing can be re­ solved, and the questions and mysteries remain.

Anson Rabinbach, editor of T he N ew G erm an Critique, describes a world that is dispersed into fragments, and in these frag­ ments reside divine presences which can be revealed. Rabinbach describes Benjamin’s method as one which juxtaposes these fragments, things which don’t always go together, in order to reveal the emanation. Motivating this method is the belief that you cannot go directly at the task because the disclosure will be blocked.

What these conversations also offer, in a revealing poetic sense, are everyone’s favourite Benjamin quotations. As we collect these fragments and pieces, as they are told, they begin to form the texture and fabric of the film itself. This is very Benjamin, and quite successful as an artistic strategy to reveal Benjamin’s methodology.

Hughes’ work is openly informed by Benjamin’s method and practice, and while this adds another layer to the biographical, it also questions, even interrogates, the act of telling the story of someone who is no longer living to tell their own tale.

O ne W ay Street fills you with moments from Benjamin’s life: the photograph with his brother, another of his wife and child, his Baverage report card, the Klee painting he would have looked at, his collection of books and toys, the difficulties of his Jewishness, his script, his writings, the key relationships of his life, his conversations with Brecht, Adorno and Scholem, the Germany, Russia, Italy and France of his travels. Curiously, though, watching O ne Way Street over and over again does not serve to further illuminate Benjamin.

What the viewer begins to appreciate, what is illuminated, is the complex construction of the telling of his life.

I try to wrest myself away from the amorous Image-repertoire: but the Image-repertoire burns underneath, like an incompletely extin­ guished peat fire; it catches again; what was renounced reappears; out of the hasty grave suddenly a long cry. - Roland Barthes2

It is not simply that Hughes tells a story of Benjamin through fragments. W hat is interesting is that most images and sequences are repeated, recontextualized. “In the fields with which we are con­ cerned, knowledge is like lightning flashes. The text is the thunder rolling long afterwards.” (Walter Benjamin) In a opening sequence, Anson Rabinbach appears as a sub-frame within a frame. As he speaks, his image suddenly freezes, before peeling off as yet another sub-frame within the frame, and so on and so on, the dialogue uninterrupted. Within the larger frame, even more sub-frames appear and disappear. Manuscript pages, maybe from D as Passagen W erk, are blown across a mountainous landscape. A razor blade removes from yet another (picture) frame the Klee painting, its significance still to be appreciated. Resonances within resonances: they are things foreseen, a destiny only later to be fully revealed and under­ stood. Layers within layers; fragments gradually becoming a whole.

Benjamin (played by Nico Lathouris) looks at and photographs us, twice, with the flash of illumination (magnesium powder) momentarily blinding us, “like thunder rolling long after­ wards”. The desolate snowscape on the road to Connecticut provides an image for a reading from A Berlin C h ild h ood . It also lines the road to the author Elizabeth Young-Bruehl’s house, and functions as a visual metaphor for her description that the German intellectuals of Benj amin’s circle felt as if they were living on a cultural and political moonscape.

This layering and recontextualizing of images creates a kind of frisson where pieces come together to form a new whole and in their juxta­ position, in the new relationships that are formed, provide an entry into the past as well as a formation of the present.

In Portbou, at the site of the cemetery where Benjamin is thought to be buried in an unmarked grave, the environmental sculptor Dani Karavan has cut a path into the surrounding cliffs. The initial climb is fraught with difficulty, and the final descent towards the ocean is halted at the last moment by a sheet of glass. On the glass is written some words from Benjamin: “Quotation in my works are like robbers by the roadside who make an armed attack and relieve an idler of his convictions. ” Beyond the glass, Karavan describes a vista - sighted but untouchable - of birds, wind, freedom and a swirling sea whose waves rise and fall, enveloping the rocks repeatedly, like an open heart. For Karavan, the tortuous path to these ‘images in the world’ is a most powerful evocation of Benjamin’s life and philosophy.

Karavan’s descriptions of his work parallel something of what it is like to experience O ne W ay Street. Manoeuvring through the densely metaphoric, allusive text, whose surface is layered with Benjamin quotations, is at times a difficult experience. But there are moments of illumination.

Probably the greatest achievement of O ne Way Street is to re­ present Benjamin in the here and now. In “The W ork of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction” Benjamin says:

JO H N

HUGHES

Interviewed by Raffaele Caputo

Melbourne-based documentary filmmaker John Hughes recently completed O ne W ay Street: Fragm ents fo r W alter B en jam in , a film on the life and work of German-Jewish philosopher Walter Benjamin (1892-1940). In the fifty years since Benjamin’s suicide, his work has been a fundamental force in cultural debate, literary criticism, theory and politics, and the focus of struggle among particular schools of thought in contemporary philosophy.

Here, Hughes discusses the development of O ne W ay Street in respect of the merits Walter Benjamin’s work has in our present day.

Why a film today on Walter Benjamin, given he was much more accessible during the 1960s and ’70s cultural studies?

By making many productions it substitutes a plurality of copies for a unique existence. And in permitting the reproduction to meet the beholder or listener in his own particular situation, it reactivates the object reproduced.3

In each generation or decade since his death, there has been new formulations of Benjamin, new divisions and arguments, new culture wars around his works. There is a 1990s ‘version’ associated with T he N ew G erm an Critique group or tendency which is clearly articulated in the presence of Susan Buck-Morss’ book, T he D ialec­ tics o f Seeing: W alter Benjam in an d the A rcades P roject, which has been out since 1989. It is an academic work but has already gone through several reprints in paperback.

On the other hand, there is another mobilization of Benjamin, which has a certain power in the present, and is that of [Jacques] Derrida and [Paul] De Man. In America in particular, some people say that there are new audiences who are learning about Benjamin through De M an, and certainly Derrida’s use of Benjamin is a very important example.

There is a third strand in a way, which has its origins in the kind of Benjamin given to us by Gersham Scholem, who is fascinated by Benjamin and a Judaic tradition. To my knowledge, the best example of this particular school of thought in the struggle for the soul of Benjamin is in the work of Susan Handelman, whose most recent book, Fragm ents o f R edem ption , is mainly interested in the theological dimension of Benjamin’s work. This is an orientation I must say that interests me a lot, but which corresponds with the other approaches or emphases I’ve mentioned.

Hughes has reactivated this mystic, this poet, this allegorist, this philosopher, this series and mad romantic figure. Like Hannah Arendt’s pearl diver, he has brought ‘thought fragments’ into the world of the living and offered them as something ‘rich and strange’.

Given this 1990s perspective, what relevance would Benjamin have in this country? One could say there are things happening in this country, this place, particular political thought on local social issues, things happening in one’s own street. Where does Benjamin CINEMA

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NICO LATHOURIS AS WAITER BENJAMIN. ONE WAY STREET. FRAGMENTS FOR WALTER BENJAMIN.

Is that a question which raised itself as you were shooting? Because, certainly, you are dealing with two things: someone who existed, was real; and someone you have to recreate, or (re)discover.

It’s a problem common to any kind of biographical work. The bigger question really, if you want to deal with this type of material, is whether it is correct to do it through a biographical method, or whether we should be working with or applying the insights or works of Walter Benjamin to another historical or cultural object in the present. That is a much more legitimate way of dealing with this material, rather than making a film about the work and life of Benjamin.

W hat relevance does Benjamin’s work hold for documentary filmmaking?

slot in? It’s not a position about maintaining a pure culture or a purity of ideas which would ask what relevance Derrida, De Man, whoever, have here, because they’re foreign.

The cultural debates that use the figure of Benjamin are a way of focusing certain arguments in intellectual life. There is no reason why an “Australian” articulation of these debates cannot or ought not be made.

A lot of people ask that: “W hat are you doing making a film about a dead German-Jewish philosopher in Australia? Why not a local, immediate, social or political issue?” Well, why not? But the kind of immediacy and politics that the works of Benjamin are involved with are not a kind of politics that operate in the realm of current affairs; it’s a politics that follows a much deeper strata. It doesn’t have to do with the kind of politics that can be equated with people shouting slogans at each other in pubs, but it is a politics which, in some ways, is much more powerful. Finally, it is a politics that questions the legitimacy of what we call politics but which is still deeply ‘political’.

It is a major political achievement for someone to take to pieces one of the many central ideologies of our epoch, as Benjamin’s critique of ‘progress’ does. To deconstruct the dominant ideology of affirmative progress is not an apolitical achievement.

Somewhere along the line, I read somebody say that it has to do with a perception of history that operates at the kind of pace icebergs melt. Benjamin’s work still has that kind of huge scale.

Does Benjamin become an object which becomes ambiguous, as in A ll th a t is S olid (John Hughes, 1988), where a cherub in a snowball object is passed from hand to hand. One never has a firm position about the object.

Is Benjamin in O ne W ay Street an entirely ambiguous figure who is available to any number of readings? Yes and no. Nobody knows.

It is “yes” insofar as the formal structures and methods that inform the film are always referring to quotation. It’s almost as though the work is constructed from, explicitly, a whole series of quotations.

There is never a quote where an editorial line is put as an argument on the surface of the film. O f course, there is an editorial process going on, but one of the things that is foregrounded in the formal elements of the film is quotation, so the idea is that we don’t have access to a ‘real’ W alter Benjamin. W hat we have access to is a series of discourses around the figure of Benjamin, which takes different forms in different decades. To that extent it’s a “yes” in response to your question. But I don’t think to work in that way is to refuse to take a position, or to simply celebrate diversity. It doesn’t do that because it creates quite particular montages by means of the placement of the quotations.

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A lot, because his philosophical concerns go from problems of representation in his work on the theory of language to problems of historiography in “The Thesis on the Philosophy of History” and his A rcades project, which has particular relevance for documen­ tary. Also, his work is, in a way, into the whole central problematic of documentary: realism.

That’s a rather generalized answer, and it could be reduced to a series of more specific, programmatic things.

T o what does the title, O ne W ay Street, refer?

In the first place, to a book Benjamin published called E inbahnstraffe (O ne Way Street), which is a collection of short texts that were influenced by surrealism and Benjamin’s particular brand of M arx­ ism. The book is about dealing with observations of contemporary life, reflections on writing and philosophical reflections in a very concrete form. Each of the little texts in O ne W ay Street is an extraordinarily rich piece of work with marvellous poetic power.

Ernst Bloch described the book as being about all the latest fashions of metaphysics and philosophy on display in a shop window.

There is a number of ways of interpretating the title, but the first one is simply to take this sign which is everywhere, to take it from the street, and transform it into a kind of surreal allegory for a variety of philosophical themes.

When you consider that “The W ork of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction ” is probably the most widely read English translation of Benjamin’s work in Australia, one assumes Benjamin has been much more accessible with another, a more informed, audience.

I don’t know; it is possible. Certainly one of the ways we in Australia have received the work of Benjamin, as you said, is through the essay, “The W ork of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction”, which was something central to the whole Birmingham school of cultural criticism of the 1980s, which we got. But I’m also convinced that the ongoing relevance of the work is something that’s going to continue to expand. In some ways, it’s surprising how many people are at least familar with the fact that there is this body of work called T he W orks o f W alter Benjam in but have not had the chance to study it or get into it. Usually, the people who do get into it are very solidly affected by it. And I think there’s more and more of those people, from many different disciplines and backgrounds.

Harvard University Press is in the process of compiling a kind of selected works of the material that we have never had before in English. That is a big project people have been waiting years for. It’s available in Italian, Portuguese, French, and of course in German.

Also, the German-language collected works has only relatively recently been completed - I think it was in 1989, but it may have been 1990. In fact, the last volume of W alter Benjamin’s collected works was only recently released in Germany, and it was only in 1982 when the A rcades project, which was a maj or part of the work,

was released in Germany. This is one of the reasons why the material keeps coming back. It’s been appearing over two or three decades in the German language and the material which is new to various languages continues to appear.

In some ways, the English-language material is behind, whereas there is continuing interest in the work all over the world. Recently there has been material published in Russia, and there’s a very interesting perception of Benjamin in Russia today. I think that there is also an audience, a readership, of Benjamin in Japan, which is also relatively recent.

make film work on the Left was blacklisted in Australia. They managed to get a few things out, but basically work coming from the Left during the Cold W ar in Australia was effectively sup­ pressed. They worked for Left-wing trade unions; they produced thirteen films.

How did you get O ne W ay Street funded?

It is fully funded by the Australian Film Commission and it had an ABC pre-sale. There were long negotiations with the AFC. As I said, I started the project in 1989 with the idea that the film ought to be released at the beginning of 1992, but the administrative processes that are required in this kind of funding structure are very lengthy, to say the least.

As more and more material comes out there will probably be a huge effect on cultural studies, almost as a fashion.

Well, yes, there is a problem of fashion, I suppose, but this work is very resistant to containment of fashion. Benjamin has a nice formulation of it which is that “in every era the attempt must be made anew to wrest tradition from a conformism that is about to overpower it”, which is something he wrote in 1940 and is an idea taken up by Marcuse and which we now call “repressive tolerance” .

So, there is a way in which Benjamin’s work is available in different waves precisely because the ideas in Benjamin’s work can be taken up and applied. They’re very powerful, they’re tools. There is a lot of Benjamin around, but it’s not necessarily recognized or accredited as such.

How did they react to film about Walter Benjamin?

The bureaucracy goes through its own transformations, and at any particular moment there’s different régimes in play, so it’s always quite an intricate matter getting work made. Responses were positive. It just took a long time because it wasn’t necessarily a high priority. They had other priorities. It took sometime to explain to them that this was a priority.

And the ABC? The ABC reacted quite warmly, quite quickly. I was very pleased.

Maybe they liked All that is Solid. In some ways, it’s quite mysterious.*123

Is there any particular work of Benjamin’s that you deeply admire?

I’ve always liked Benjamin’s “Theses on the Philosophy of His­ tory”. In 1 9 8 0 ,1 made a film called F ilm w ork, about the Waterside W orkers’ Federation Film Unit and the Cold War. It is about a group of people who, by aligning their cultural work with the rest of the industrial labour movement, were able to survive and make work during the Cold W ar, when everybody else who was trying to

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A Lover’s Discourse: Fragments, p. 109.

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Illuminations, p. 223.

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THE GALLERIA 164 JAMES ST (liear Lake St) 227 1771

N O R T H B R ID G E

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C H RI S

LO N G

Australia’s First FilifiÉ: P a rt F iv e : In d ig e n o u s W ith Australia’s cinem a centenary approaching

,

Chris L ong continues his exploration into the myths and fictions surrounding the introduction o f the m oving picture to Australia.

Some early movies survive, but not in film form. The author is seen below in 1991, animating a fairground “Mutoscope” flip-card reel of Boer W ar combat footage from 1899. It is possible to recover sections of many early films from these flip-card entertainments, by re-photographing them onto 16mm film, frame by frame. Several of these reels were included in the author’s NFSA video, Federation Films (1991).

Early films survive entirely by chance. The remnants have created false historical assumptions. Everybody knows about Millard Johnson and William Gibson’s T he Story o f the K elly G ang (1906), produced by the Tait brothers, because parts of it survive. But was it the first important Australian storytelling film? W hat about the earlier Kelly Gang film shown by Dan Barry and Robert Hollyford in Hobart in 1906 ?1What about the bushranging drama shot by the Salvation Army Limelight Department in 1904?2 W hat about H ighlights o f the M usical C om edy ‘F lo ro d o ra ’ shot by Clement Mason in Melbourne in 19013, or the Salvation Army’s R escue o f a Suicide (1898) ?4 Films of this age bear no printed titles, and most are not mentioned in our film books. If they survived, would anyone recognize them?

As archives go through unidentified holdings to “de-select” nonAustralian material, do they have the research necessary to recog­ nize Australian films? Comprehensive data on early production is currently only obtainable from old newspapers and documents.

Until that data is compiled and published, attempts to identify or “de-select” early films will fail. Acquisition officers will be unable to recognize important films offered to them. More films will be lost through incorrect identification.

Pat Laughren at Griffith University (Brisbane) organized funding for this series’ assemblage of production data from collections and libraries all over the world. The first volume of A C om plete Australian Film ography will follow, listing all known productions to indicate possible survivals. Some survivals are surprising. Other films are lost where their survival might be expected.

For example, one might assume that Sydney’s early film output would have been prolific, with abundant survivals. In fact, our early film industry was based in Melbourne. Only one continuously active producer operated in Sydney during the 1890s5, and his output is lost. The earliest surviving Sydney film, covering federa­ tion festivities in 19016, was shot by Melbourne’s Salvation Army Limelight Department.

Many early Melbourne movies survive, though not always in film form. Some are printed as sample strips in books, or as sections filed for copyright registration. Thwaites and Harvie’s 1897 films were distributed as flip-card novelties. Others survive only as “mutoscope” flip-card reels in fairground peepshows.

More than half of Queensland’s surprisingly prolific 1890s film output survives. It will be covered in C inem a P apers’ forthcoming Queensland issue. Meanwhile, this article continues to assemble the record of Australian production in Melbourne and Sydney.

T h w a it e s a n d H a r v ie FIRST IN D IG E N O U S P R O D U C E R S Before 1897, all of the known Australian films were shot by the visiting French cameraman Marius Sestier. Our first indigenous producer was Ernest Jardine Thwaites (1 8 7 3 -1 9 3 3 ), a gifted but shy inventor whose mechanical skill matched his fascination with new technology. At the age of nineteen he constructed one of the earliest Australian-made phonographs at the Melbourne Working

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F A C T S A N D FA B LE S

P ro d u c tio n B e g in s

Above: Ernest Jardine Thwaites, c.1897, who made the first Australian-built movie camera at the age of 24. He teamed with the photographer Robert Harvie to produce a series of short sporting and actuality films in 1897-98. Right: Herbert Thomson’s Automobile of 1898, one of the first in Australia, now preserved at the Museum of Victoria, was a project in which E. J. Thwaites collaborated. The photo, from the collection of Thwaites’ daughter, Mrs Doreen Maxwell (deceased), is labelled “St Kilda Cricket Ground, 1 8 9 8 ”.

M en’s College (now Melbourne University of Technology).7 As a professional consulting engineer during the 1890s, he was a pioneer of automotive design, assisting with the construction of the Thomson car now preserved in the Museum of Victoria.8 After 1903, he manufactured the first Australian piano player rolls and mecha­ nisms, including his “Pian-auto” and “Aeriola” around 1905.9 His activities and patents cover a dozen fields of endeavour, but his shyness and avoidance of publicity have consigned his work to historical obscurity. The surviving documentation of his film work is patchy and difficult to find.

Based in a small workshop at 325 Collins Street, Melbourne, adjoining the Block Arcade, Thwaites constructed a movie camera at the start of 18 97. A photographer friend, Robert William Harvie, aided by A. O. Segerberg (later a cameraman for Longford and Beau Smith), designed and operated processing facilities for Thwaites’ films.10 These darkroom operators appear to have been associated with the Melbourne branch of Walter Barnett’s “Falk” studio at that time, so that some of the processing outfit may have been previously used to produce the Sestier-Barnett coverage of the 1896 Melbourne Cup. The Thwaites-Harvie production activity was relatively brief, chiefly stimulated by the technical curiosity of those involved. As their films were not produced for exhibition in any specific venue,

reviews are difficult to locate and only an incomplete filmography can be assembled. Shooting began around the start of March 1897, the first three items being initially exhibited by a provincial theat­ rical troupe led by a “Colonel Lumare” 11, then touring Tasmania: (1) Landing passengers from the S.S. G em at P ort M elbourne (2) M arch past o f the Victorian M ounted Rifles (3) The B lock, Collins Street The expected arrival of these for Lumare’s touring troupe was announced in the Launceston papers on 17 March 1897, stating that they were “taken in Melbourne last week” 12. Although the producer isn’t named, the inclusion of “The Block” where Thwaites had his shop strongly suggests his authorship. Further proof of Thwaites’ involvement is provided by an article in T he Australasian of 27 March 1897, reproducing strips of movie film from a Melbourne street scene, and stating: The instrument with which the accompanying pictures were taken was made by Mr. Thwaites, of 325 Collins Street. His system, by spacing each view exactly and evenly, does away with all ‘jumping’ of the photographs on the screen so noticeable in other machines.13 The film strips were recently animated and shown in the NFSA video, Federation Films, showing a distant building on the left which appears to be the Melbourne Town Hall as seen from Elizabeth Street. It is probably the film of “The Block”, as shown by Lumare.

On 27 April 1897, Thwaites applied for Provisional Patent protection on a “mutoscope” type of flip-card movie-viewing device.14 No complete specification followed as it would have contravened the earlier patents of the American Mutoscope and CINEMA

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9 5 • 39

Biograph Company.15 Nevertheless, Thwaites published several “flip-card books” printed from his films, including one of the end of the 1897 Melbourne Cup, a copy of which is held by the National Film &c Sound Archive.16 Further films appear to have been produced by Thwaites’ team in June 1897, when Colonel Lumare’s cinématographe show reached Ballarat (Victoria). The cameraman was summoned there to shoot two films of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee celebra­ tions on 22 June 1 8 9 7 .17 They were exhibited only four days later, prior to the close of Lumare’s Ballarat season, and were the first Australian films taken in a provincial city.18Films of the Melbourne and Sydney Diamond Jubilee festivities were taken in the same week, and shown by exhibitors Lamond and Sewell in Albury and Euroa during September 1 8 9 7 .19 The Melbourne coverage may have been shot by Thwaites or an associate.

Thwaites and Harvie finally obtained a Melbourne outlet when their film, T raffic on the corner o f Swanston an d B ou rke streets M elbou rn e, was exhibited at Harry Rickards’ Melbourne Opera House from 15 September 1897. The experiment was a success, Argus reporting that “the appearance of a certain popular and rotund legislator crossing the scene was received with loud ap­ plause”.20 Rickards then set the experimenters a tougher task, challenging them to film the finish of a Melbourne horse race and showing it in his theatre on the same evening.

Their first experiment in same-day presentation was applied to the Caulfield Cup Race on 16 October 1897, and was hailed as a major cinematic achievement, “throwing completely into the shade R. W . Paul’s [of London] great effort in taking the Prince’s Derby and showing it at the Alhambra Music Hall, London, on the following night”.21 The Caulfield film was exhibited only six hours after its exposure and included three shots: One view shows the horses in a bunch sweeping past the grandstand the first time round; the second the field well drawn out approaching in the distance, and then sweeping past the winning post with Amberite in advance; while in the third the audience see the return of the big field to the scale.22 Two examples of E. J. Thwaites’ engineering skills: his wax cylinder phonograph of 1892 (below) and (right) a motorized quadricycle of about 1899, presumably outside his parents’ home in Liddiard Street, Hawthorn.

In this speedy reportage of sporting events, Thwaites finally found a commercial niche for his product. It set the tone for the remainder of his output, covering Amberite’s win in the VRC Derby on 30 October 1897 and Gaulus’ win of the 1897 Melbourne Cup on 2 November.

Thwaites was not alone in shooting the 1897 Cup. M ark Blow and A. J. Perier from Sydney were present with their cameras21, but only Thwaites managed to present his coverage on the same night. He also sold a copy at a hand­ some profit to the conjuror Carl Hertz, who presented it a few days later at Ballarat’s Acad­ emy of Music.24 The surviving flip-card booklet of Thwaites’ 1897 Melbourne Cup film provides a tentative confirmation of the authorship of a film held by the NFSA and purporting to be of that race. It covers the race finish in extreme wide-shot from a high point-of-view, possibly a grandstand. The images are painfully unsteady (perhaps indicat­ ing that the negative was still moist when print­ ing was attempted) and there are blotches throughout suggesting imperfect fixation. Artis­ tically and technically, it compares very poorly with Sestier’s Cup film of 1896, but its hurried production cannot be taken as a representative sample of Thwaites’ work in more casual cir­ cumstances. A fragment of a second shot is spliced onto the print, which appears to be of the horses returning from the course through crowds near the Flemington bandstand.

One of the most interesting aspects of 189 7 M elbou rn e Cup is that it is the first Australian film featuring a camera pan. As the horses near the finish line, it seems that Thwaites kicked one of his tripod legs to turn the camera and keep the field in view. The resultant jerk in the image invariably draws laughter from a modern audience.

Through into 1898, Thwaites con­ tinued to shoot sporting events: racing, cricket and, in July 1898, the earliest known film of Australian Rules foot­ ball, the match of Essendon versus Geelong.25 In these latter efforts, the films are sometimes credited as being shot by, or for, “Falk” studios26, and they were often presented by the pio­ neer projectionist, Stephen Bond. Bond may have had some part in their production, as he later (1899) shot several films of Boer War troop departures, and built some of the first Australian-made projectors (c.1904 ).27 Another pioneering projectionist, Alexander Gunn, appears to have been a regular customer for Thwaites’ films, and his 1898 catalogue lists many of the inventor’s titles as well as Burning W eeds at Auburn1*, shot at a locale very close to the Thwaites family home in Liddiard Street, Hawthorn. These domestic scenes are confirmed by an unidentified clipping in the possession of his family which states: Mr. Thwaites for some years [after 1897] produced pictures in a small way - some were photographed in his own garden and these were exhibited long before the first picture theatre was erected in Melbourne.29

40 • C I N E M A

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FILM CALENDAR

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PAPERS

NUMBER 1 (JANUARY 1974):

NUMBER 20 (MARCH-APRIL 1979)

NUMBER 41 (DECEMBER 1982)

NUMBER 55 (JANUARY 1986)

David Williamson, Ray Harryhausen, Peter Weir, Antony Ginnane, Gillian Armstrong, Ken G. Hall, The Cars that

Ken Cameron, Claude Lelouch, Jim Sharman, French film, My Brilliant

Igor Auzins, Paul Schrader, Peter Tammer, Liliana Cavani, Colin Higgins,

Career.

The Year Of Living Dangerously.

James Stewart, Debbie Byrne, Brian Thompson, Paul Verhoeven, Derek Meddings, tie-in marketing, The Right-

NUMBER 22 (JULY/AUG 1979)

NUMBER 42 (MARCH 1983)

Bruce Petty, Luciana Arrighi, Albie Thoms, Stax, Alison’s Birthday

Mel Gibson, John Waters, Ian Pringle, Agnes Varda, copyright, Strikebound,

Ate Paris.

NUMBER 2 (APRIL 1974):

Censorship, Frank Moorhouse, Nicolas Roeg, Sandy Harbutt, Film under Allende, Between The Wars, Alvin Purple NUMBER 3 (JULY 1974):

Richard Brennan, John Papadopolous, Willis O ’Brien, William Friedkin, The

True Story O f Eskimo Nell.

NUMBER 10 (SEPT/OCT 1976)

Nagisa Oshima, Philippe Mora, Krzysztof Zanussi, Marco Ferreri, Marco Belloochio, gay cinema.

NUMBER 11 (JANUARY 1977)

Emile De Antonio, Jill Robb, Samuel Z. Arkoff, Roman Polanski, Saul Bass, The

Picture Show Man. NUMBER 12 (APRIL 1977)

Ken Loach, Tom Haydon, Donald Sutherland, Bert Deling, Piero Tosi, John Dankworth, John Scott, Days Of Hope,

The Getting Of Wisdom.

NUMBER 13 ( JULY 1977)

Louis Malle, Paul Cox, John Power, Jeanine Seawell, Peter Sykes, Bernardo Bertolucci, In Search Of Anna.

NUMBER 14 (OCTOBER 1977)

Phil Noyce, Matt Carroll, Eric Rohmer, Terry Jackman, John Huston, Luke’s

Kingdom, The Last Wave, Blue Fire Lady.

NUMBER 15 (JANUARY 1978)

Tom Cowan, Truffaut, John Faulkner, Stephen Wallace, the Taviani brothers, Sri Lankan film, Chant Of Jimmie Black­

NUMBER 24 (DEC/JAN 1980)

Brian Trenchard-Smith, Ian Holmes, Arthur Hiller, Jerzy Toeplitz, Brazilian cinema, Harlequin.

NUMBER 25 (FEB/MARCH 1980)

David Puttnam, Janet Strickland, Everett de Roche, Peter Faiman, Chain Reaction,

Stir.

NUMBER 26 (APRIL/MAY 1980)

The Man From Snowy River.

NUMBER 43 (MAY/JUNE 1983)

Sydney Pollack, Denny Lawrence, Graeme Clifford, The Dismissal, Careful

He Might Hear You. NUMBER 44-45 (APRIL 1984)

David Stevens, Simon Wincer, Susan Lambert, a personal history of Cinema

Papers, Street Kids.

Charles H. Joffe, Jerome Heilman, Malcolm Smith, Australian nationalism, Japanese cinema, Peter Weir, Water

NUMBER 46 (JULY 1984)

Under The Bridge.

Eureka Stockade, Waterfront, The Boy In The Bush,A Woman Suffers, Street Hero.

NUMBER 27 (JUNE-JULY 1980)

Randal Kleiser, Peter Yeldham, Donald Richie, obituary of Hitchcock, N Z film industry, Grendel Grendel Grendel.

NUMBER 28 (AUG/SEPT 1980)

Bob Godfrey, Diane Kurys, Tim Burns, John O ’Shea, Bruce Beresford, Bad

Timing, Roadgames.

NUMBER 29 (OCT/NOV 1980)

Bob Ellis, Uri Windt, Edward Woodward, Lino Brocka, Stephen Wallace, Philippine cinema, Cruising, The Last Outlaw.

NUMBER 36 (FEBRUARY 1982)

Kevin Dobson, Brian Kearney, Sonia Hofmann, Michael Rubbo, Blow Out,

Breaker Morant, Body Heat, The Man From Snowy River.

Paul Cox, Russell Mulcahy, Alan J. Pakula, Robert Duvall, Jeremy Irons,

NUMBER 47 (AUGUST 1984)

Richard Lowenstein, Wim Wenders, David Bradbury, Sophia Turkiewicz, Hugh Hudson, Robbery Under Arms.

NUMBER 48 (OCT/NOV 1984)

Ken Cameron, Michael Pattinson, Jan Sardi, Yoram Gross, Bodyline, The Slim

Dusty Movie.

NUMBER 49 (DECEMBER 1984)

Alain Resnais, Brian McKenzie, Angela Punch McGregor, Ennio Morricone, Jane Campion, horror films, Niel Lynne.

NUMBER 50 (FEB/MARCH 1985)

Stephen Wallace, Ian Pringle, Walerian Borowczyk, Peter Schreck, Bill Conti, Brian May, The Last Bastion, Bliss.

Hand Man, Birdsville.

NUMBER 56 (MARCH 1986)

Fred Schepisi, Dennis O ’Rourke, Brian Trenchard-Smith, John Hargreaves,

Dead-End Drive-In, The More Things Change, Kangaroo, Tracy.

NUMBER 58 (JULY 1986)

Woody Allen, Reinhard Hauff, Orson Welles, the Cinémathèque Française, The

Fringe Dwellers, Great Expectations: The Untold Story, The Last Frontier.

NUMBER 59 (SEPTEMBER 1986)

Robert Altman, Paul Cox, Lino Brocka, Agnes Varda, The AFI Awards, The

Movers.

NUMBER 60 (NOVEMBER 1986)

Australian Television, Franco Zeffirelli, Nadia Tass, Bill Bennett, Dutch Cinema, Movies By Microchip, Otello.

NUMBER 61 (JANUARY 1987)

Alex Cox, Roman Polanski, Philippe Mora, Martin Armiger, film in South Australia, Dogs In Space, Howling III. NUMBER 62 (MARCH 1987)

Screen Violence, David Lynch, Cary Grant, ASSA conference, production barometer, film finance, The Story Of

The Kelly Gang.

NUMBER 63 (MAY 1987)

Gillian Armstrong, Antony Ginnane, Chris Haywood, Elmore Leonard, Troy Kennedy Martin, The Sacrifice, Land­

slides, Pee Wee’s Big Adventure, Jilted.

NUMBER 37 (APRIL 1982)

NUMBER 51 (MAY 1985)

NUMBER 64 (JULY 1987)

smith.

Stephen MacLean, Jacki Weaver, Carlos Saura, Peter Ustinov, women in drama,

NUMBER 16 ( APRIL-JUNE 1978)

Lino Brocka, Harrison Ford, Noni Hazlehurst, Dusan Makavejev, Emoh

Monkey Grip.

Ruo, Winners, The Naked Country, Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome, Robbery Under Arms.

Nostalgia, Dennis Hopper, Mel Gibson, Vladimir Osherov, Brian TrenchardSmith, Chartbusters, Insatiable.

Gunnel Lindblom, John Duigan, Steven Spielberg, Tom Jeffrey, The Africa Project, Swedish cinema, Dawn!, Patrick.

NUMBER 17 (AUG/SEPT 1978)

Bill Bain, Isabelle Huppert, Brian May, Polish cinema, Newsfront, The Night The

Prowler.

NUMBER 18 (OCT/NOV 1978)

John Lamond, Sonia Borg, Alain Tanner, Indian cinema, Dimboola, Cathy’s Child.

NUMBER 38 (JUNE 1982)

Geoff Burrowes, George Miller, James Ivory, Phil Noyce, Joan Fontaine, Tony Williams, law and insurance, Far

East.

NUMBER 39 (AUGUST 1982)

Helen Morse, Richard Mason, Anja Breien, David Millikan, Derek Granger, Norwegian cinema, National Film Archive, We Of The Never Never.

NUMBER 19 (JAN/FEB 1979)

NUMBER 40 (OCTOBER 1982)

Antony Ginnane, Stanley Hawes, Jeremy Thomas, Andrew Sarris, sponsored documentaries, Blue Fin.

Henri Safran, Michael Ritchie, Pauline Kael, Wendy Hughes, Ray Barrett, My

Dinner With Andre, The Return Of Captain Invincible.

NUMBER 52 (JULY 1985)

John Schlesinger, Gillian Armstrong, Alan Parker, soap operas, TV News, film advertising, Don’t Call Me Girlie, For

Love Alone, Double Sculls.

NUMBER 53 (SEPTEMBER 1985)

Bryan Brown, Nicolas Roeg, Vincent Ward, Hector Crawford, Emir Kusturica, N .Z. film and TV, Return To Eden.

NUMBER 54 (NOVEMBER 1985)

Graeme Clifford, Bob Weis, John Boorman, Menahem Golan, rock videos,

Wills And Burke, The Great Bookie Robbery, The Lancaster Miller Affair.

NUMBER 65 (SEPTEMBER 1987)

Angela Carter, Wim Wenders, Jean-Pierre Gorin, Derek Jarman, Gerald L’Ecuyer, Gustav Hasford, AFI Awards, Poor

Man’s Orange.

NUMBER 66 (NOVEMBER 1987)

Australian Screenwriters, Cinema and China, James Bond, James Clayden, Video, De Laurentiis, N ew World, The

Navigator, Who’s That Girl.

NUMBER 67 (JANUARY 1988)

John Duigan, George Miller, Jim Jarmusch, Soviet cinema- Part I, women in film, shooting in 70mm, filmmaking in Ghana, The Year My Voice Broke,

Send A Gorilla.

NUMBER 81 (DECEMBER 1990)

Ian Pringle Isabelle Eberhardt, Jane Campion An Angel At My Table, Martin Scorsese Goodfellas, Alan J. Pakula Presumed Innocent NUMBER 82 (MARCH 1991)

Francis Ford Coppola The Godfather Part III, Barbet Schroeder Reversal of Fortune, Bruce Beresford’s Black Robe, Ramond Hollis Longford, Backsliding, Bill Bennetts, Sergio Corbucci obituary.

NUMBER 83 (MAY 1991)

Australia at Cannes, Gillian Armstrong: The Last Days at Chez Nous, Joathan Demme:

The Silence of the Lambs, Flynn, Dead To The World, Marke Joffe’s Spotswood, Anthony Hopkins -«YiSt«?»,* »«&*.**«*&' « ¥ « » * » * R « V ti '

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NUMBER 68 (MARCH 1988)

Martha Ansara, Channel 4, Soviet Cinema, Jim McBride, Glamour, Ghosts Of The

Civil Dead, Feathers, Ocean, Ocean.

NUMBER 84 (AUGUST 1991)

James Cameron: Terminator 2: judgment Day, Dennis O’Rourke: The Good Woman of Bangkok, Susan Dermody: Breathing Under Water, Cannes report, FFC. NUMBER 85 (NOVEMBER 1991)

Cannes ’88, film composers, sex, death and family films, Vincent Ward, David Parker, Ian Bradley, Pleasure Domes.

Jocelyn Moorhouse: Proof, Blake Edwards: Switch-, Callie Khouri: Thelma & Louise; Independent Exhibition and Distribution in Australia, FFC Part II.

NUMBER 70 (NOVEMBER 1988)

NUMBER 86 (JANUARY 1992)

Film Australia, Gillian Armstrong, Fred Schepisi, Wes Craven, John Waters, A1 Clark, Shame Screenplay Part I.

Overview of Australian film: Romper Stomper, The Nostradamus Kid, Greenkeeping, Eightball; plus Kathryn

NUMBER 69 (MAY 1988)

Bigelow, HDTV and Super 16.

NUMBER 71 (JANUARY 1989)

Yahoo Serious, David Cronenberg, 1988 in Retrospect, Film Sound , Last Temp-tation of Christ, Philip Brophy NUMBER 72 (MARCH 1989)

Charles Dickens’ Little Dorrit, Australian Sci-Fi movies, Survey: 1988 Mini-Series, Aromarama, Ann Turner’s Celia, Fellini’s La dolce vita, Women and Westerns NUMBER 73 (MAY 1989)

Cannes ’89, Dead Calm, Franco Nero, Jane Campion, Ian Pringle’s The Prisoner of St. Petersburg, Frank Pierson, Pay TV. NUMBER 74 (JULY 1989)

The Delinquents, Australians in Hollywood, Chinese Cinema, Philippe Mora, Yuri Sokol, Twins, True Believers, Ghosts... of the Civil Dead, Shame screenplay.

NUMBER 75 (SEPTEMBER 1989)

Sally Bongers, The Teen Movie, Animated, Edens Lost, Mary Lambert and Pet Sematary, Martin Scorsese and Paul Schrader, Ed Pressman.

NUMBER 76 (NOVEMBER 1989)

NUMBER 87 (MARCH 1992)

Multi-Cultural Cinema, Steven Spielberg and Hook, George Negus filming The Red Unknown, Richard Lowenstein Say a Little Prayer, Jewish Cinema.

NUMBER 88 (MAY-JUNE 1992)

Cannes ’92, Baz Luhrmann’s Strictly Ballroom, Ann Turner’s Hammers over the Anvil, Kathy Mueller’s Daydream Believer, Wim Wenders’ Until the End of the World, Satyajit Ray. NUMBER 89 (AUGUST 1992)

Full report Cannes ’92 including Australian films, David Lynch Press Conference, Vitali Kanievski interview, Gianni Amelio interview, Christopher Lambert in Fortress, Film-Literature Connections, Teen Movies.

NUMBER 90 (OCTOBER 1992)

Gillian Armstrong: The Lasst Days of Chez Nous, Ridley Scott: 1492: Conquest of Paradise, Stephan Elliot: Frauds, Giorgio Mangiamele, Cultural Differences and Ethnicity in Australian Cinema, John Frankenheimer’s Year of the Gun.

Simon Wincer, Quigley Down Under, Kennedy Miller, Terry Hayes, Bangkok Hilton, John Duigan, Flirting, Romero, Dennis Hopper and Kiefer Sutherland, Frank Howson, Ron Cobb.

Clint Eastwood and Unforgiven; Raul Ruiz; George Miller and Gross Misconduct; David Elfick’s Love in Limbo, On The Beach, Australia’s First Films.

NUMBER 77 (JANUARY 1990)

NUMBER 92 (APRIL 1993)

Special John Farrow profile, Blood Oath, Dennis Whitburn and Brian Williams, Don McLennan and Breakaway, “Crocodile” Dundee overseas.

NUMBER 78 (MARCH 1990)

George Ogilvie’s The Crossing, Ray Argali’s Return Home, Peter Greenaway and The Cook...etc, Michel Ciment, Bangkok Hilton and Barlow and Chambers NUMBER 80 (AUGUST 1990)

Cannes report, Fred Schepisi career interview, Peter Weir and Greencard, Pauline Chan, Gus Van Sant and Drugstore Cowboy, German Stories.

NUMBER 91 (JANUARY 1993)

Yahoo Serious and Reckless Kelly; George Miller and Lorenzo’s Oil; Megan Simpson and Alex; Jean-Jacques’s The Lover, Women in film and television. Australia’s First Films Part 2.

NUMBER 93 (MAY 1993)

Australian films at Cannes, Jane Campion and The Piano, Laurie Mclnnes’ Broken Highway, Tracey Moffat’s Bedevil, Lightworks and Avid debate.

NUMBER 93 (MAY 1993)

Cannes report, Steve Buscemi and Reservoir Dogs, Paul Cox interview, Michael Jenkins’ The Heartbreak Kid, Coming of Age films ■

BACK OF BEYOND DISCOVERING AUSTRALIAN FILM AND TELEVISION L IM IT E D N U M B E R of the beautifully de­

signed catalogues especially prepared for the 1988 season of Australian film and television at the UCLA film and television archive in the U.S. are now available for sale in Australia.

Edited by Scott Murray, and with extensively researched articles by several of Australia’s leading writers on film and television, such as Kate Sands, Women o f the Wave; Ross Gibson, Formative Land­ scapes; Debi Enker, Cross-over and Collaboration: Kennedy Miller; Scott Murray, George Miller; Scott Murray, Terry Hayes; Graeme Turner, M ixing Fact and Fiction; Michael Leigh, Curiouser and Curiouser; Adrian Martin, Nurturing the N ext Wave.

The Back o f Beyond Catalogue is lavishly illus­ trated with more than 130 photographs, indexed, and has full credit listings for some 80 films.

PRICE: $ 2 4 .9 5 , including postage and packaging.

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I I VISACARD

Earliest known film of a Melbourne street scene: probably The Block, Collins Street, shot near the corner of Elizabeth Street, which was the approximate locale of E. J. Thwaites’ city engineering shop. The film was taken by Thwaites at the start of March 1897. From The Australasian, 27 March 1897, p.

6 19. Courtesy of Meg Labrum, NFSA, Canberra.

An oral account passed from E. J. Thwaites’ mother to her granddaughter, Beth Clark, sup­ ports this.30 Films purport to have been shown in a Hawthorn shop window in Glenferrie Road, including one of Thwaites’ mother hosing out a cockatoo’s cage!

Without any cinemas to provide a market for his films, the tensions and meagre profitability of rushed sports coverage soon took their toll on Thwaites. He ceased production in mid-1898, forming a partnership with Frank C. Freemantle to open Melbourne’s Edison Phonograph Com­ pany on 1 June 189831, importing and selling a product rapidly gaining adherents as a domestic entertainment.

After a full and interesting life working on projects as diverse as “Aerogen” gas lighting plants and a gramophone record library at Lon­ don Stores, E. J. Thwaites died at his home in Sunnyside Avenue, Camberwell, on 12 June 1933.32 T H W A IT E S A N D HARVIE FILM O G R AP H Y M ost of the following films would have been one or two minutes in length:

(5) Ballarat: Chinese Parade, Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee Procession (shot 22 June 1897).

Shot for “Colonel Lumare”’s travelling show in Ballarat.

Premiere 26 June 1897 at Ballarat M echanic’s Institute. Refer B allarat Star, 22 June 1897, p. 2; 26 June 1897, p. 3. No print is known to survive.

(6) Melbourne: Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee Celebrations (June 1897). Thwaites’ authorship of this film is doubtful.

Shows a street parade. Earliest known screening by exhibitors Lamond and Sewell at Euroa (Victoria) on 23 September 1897.

Refer E u roa A dvertiser, 17 September 1897, p. 3; A lbury D aily N ew s, 18 September 1897, p. 3. No print is known to survive.

(7) Melbourne: Traffic at Corner of Swanston and Bourke Streets (before 15 September 1897). Shows passing trams and a wellknown parliamentarian en passant.

Premiere 15 September 1897. Refer Argus, 15 September 1897, p. 8; 20 September 1897, p. 7. No print is known to survive.

(8) Caulfield Cup Race (16 October 1897).

Shown on the night of its running at Melbourne Opera House.

Three segments: the field passing the Grandstand on the first lap; the finish of the race; and the field returning to the scales.

Subsequent presentations may also have included a scene men­ tioned in T he W est Australian (Perth), 1 November 1897, p. 1: arrival of race train at Caulfield station. The four segments were probably on separate one-minute films, totalling four minutes of screen time. No surviving print.

Premiere 16 October 1897. Refer L ead er (Melbourne), 23 October 1897, p. 22.

(9) Victorian Racing Club Derby Race, Flemington (shot 30 October 1897).

Shown on the night of its running at

(1) The Block Collins Street Melbourne (shot in early March 1897).

Shows the corner of Collins and Elizabeth Streets, Melbourne, with passing traffic.

Premiere c. 20 March 1897 in Tasmania, shown by “Colonel Lumare” in Hobart. Refer M ercury (Hobart), 28 April 1897, p.3. Several strips reproduced in T he Australasian (Melbourne), 2 7 March 1897, p. 619. Refer NFSA video Federation Films.

(2) Victorian Mounted Rifles’ M arch Past (shot in early March 1897).

Below: Motion picture flip-card novelties, sometimes advertised as “pocket cinématographes”, had a brief vogue in the late 1890s. Printed from movie film frames, these relics are in many cases the only surviving artefacts of the films they represent.

Right: 1897 Melbourne Cup “flip book” produced

by E. J. Thwaites and R. W. Harvie. A flip-card sequence of the conclusion of the race, it was the first novelty of its type to be made in Australia.

Presently held by the NFSA, Canberra.

Victoria’s colonial cavalry marches in review at the Melbourne Exhibition Building, prior to its departure for England to take part in Queen Victoria’s London Diamond Jubilee procession.

Premiere c. 20 March 1897 in Tasmania, shown by “Colonel Lumare” in Hobart. Refer M ercury, 28 April 1897, p. 3. No print is known to survive.

(3) Landing Passengers from S.S. Gem at Port Melbourne (shot early M arch 1897).

Sometimes given as “Landing passengers at Williamstown ”. The Gem was a Port Phillip ferry linking Port Melbourne with Williamstown across the mouth of the Yarra River in M el­ bourne.

Premiere c. 20 M arch 1897 in Tasmania, shown by “Colonel Lumare” in Hobart. Refer M ercury, 28 April 1897, p. 3. No print is known to survive.

(4) Ballarat: Street Scene on Jubilee Day (shot 22 June 1897).

Shot for “Colonel Lumare”’s travelling show in Ballarat.

Premiere 26 June 1897 at Ballarat M echanic’s Institute. Refer B allarat Star, 22 June 1897, p. 2; 26 June 1897, p. 3 . No print is known to survive.

CINEMA

PAPERS

95-41

(14) Grand National Steeplechase, Flemington (shot prior to 19 July 1898). Race won by horse Floster.

Earliest known screening in association with Cogill’s Minstrels at Gaiety Theatre, Melbourne, 19 July 1898. Refer Argus, 19 July 1898, p. 8. No print is known to survive.

(15) Australian Rules Football: Essendon versus Geelong (shot prior to 30 July 1898).

Earliest known movie record of Australian Rules. M ay have been shot by Stephen Bond, but more likely by Thwaites and Harvie.

Advertised as “taken by Messrs. Falk and Company” and “exhibited by Messrs. Falk and Co., operator M r. S. Bond”.

Refer Argus, 30 July 1898, p. 16 (which incorrectly gives subject as Essendon vs. Melbourne); 20 August 1898, p. 16. No print is known to survive.

(16) Burning Weeds at Auburn (shot prior to July 1898).

1; ’

Crowds near the finishing-line chronometer at Flemington, probably during the 1897 Melbourne Cup, which was filmed by E. J. Thwaites and R. W . Harvie. This photo is from Thwaites’ own album, by courtesy of his daughter, Doreen Maxwell.

Listed in Alex Gunn’s 1898 catalogue. Possibly Lumière’s 1895 production Burning W eeds in the W ood , but more likely a Thwaites-Harvie film. N o newspaper reference traced. No print is known to survive.

(17) Naughty Boy and Cockatoo (shot prior to July 1898).

Melbourne Opera House. Shows finish of race; other segments (if any) unknown.

Premiere 30 October 1897. Refer Argus, 30 October 1897; South A ustralian Register, 1 November 1897, p. 3. No print is known to survive.

Listed in Alex Gunn’s 1898 catalogue. This is possibly thé film recalled by Thwaites family members as being shot at Thwaites’ Hawthorn home. No newspaper reference traced. No print is known to survive.

S

ydney's

E a r l i e s t F ilm F r a g m e n t s : 1897

(10) 1 8 9 7 Melbourne Cup, Flemington (shot 2 November 1897).

Shown on the night of its running at Melbourne Opera House.

Probably two segments, as listed in Alex Gunn’s 1898 C atalogue an d S upplem ent o f A pparatus, D issolving Views etc.: the lawn on Cup Day 1897; and the finish of 1897 Melbourne Cup (available in a hand-coloured print). Further one-minute films may have been taken.

Premiere 2 November 1897. Refer Argus, 2 November 1897, p.

8; T h e A ge, 2 November 1897. Print may survive in part at NFSA. The NFSA print could also be the same race covered by A. J. Perier or M ark Blow. Flip-book of part of finish of race survives at NFSA. (11) 1 8 9 7 Cricket Tests: Stoddart’s English Eleven Leaving M CC Pavilion, Melbourne (shot prior to 23 December 1897).

Shot preparatory to taking the field in the match of England vs.

Victoria.

Earliest known screening by Alex Gunn at Melbourne Exhibi­ tion Building, 25 December 1897. Refer Argus, 23 December 1897, p. 8. No print is known to survive.

(12) 1 8 9 7 Cricket Tests: Harry T ro tt Batting, with Johns Behind the Wickets, M C C (shot prior to 1 January 1898).

Earliest known screening by Alex Gunn at Melbourne Exhibi­ tion Building, 1 January 1898. Refer Argus, 1 January 1898. No print is known to survive.

(13) Grand National Hurdle Race, Flemington (shot 9 July 1898).

Shown on the night of its running at Gaiety Theatre, Melbourne.

Argus, 11 July 1898, p. 8. states: “See Brewer on Pat and Kennedy on Reindeer fighting out the finish of the G.N. of ’98.

See Hirundo leading the field riderless over the hurdle in the straight. A triumph of artistic excellence. The picture taken by Messrs. R. Harvie and E. J. Thwaites at 3 pm. and produced in the Biographe [sic] at 10:20 pm .” Horse Pat won the race.

Earliest known screening in association with Cogill’s Minstrels at Gaiety Theatre, Melbourne, 9 July 1898. Refer Argus, 9 July 1 8 98, p. 16. N o print is known to survive.

42 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

95

Above we described the early film clips lodged for copyright registration at the British Public Records Office. The earliest Australian examples were Walter Barnett’s four films of the Decem­ ber 1897 cricket tests at the Sydney Cricket Ground. Copies received from England33 and reproduced here have the Lumière sprocket configuration, proving that Barnett used these French cameras after Marius Sestier’s return to France. The clip of Ranjitsinhji Practising Batting suggests that the British Film Institute item held under this title is probably not this Sydney item, but is the later British film shot on 19 June 1901 (Warwick Cat. No. 6915).

Copyright identification strips from other Australian films may survive in the British Public Records Office, particularly if the films were sold in Britain. We will publish these as they come to hand.

M

S Y D N E Y 'S

ark B low F O R G O T T E N FILM P IO N EE R

M ost of Australia’s earliest film producers were professional pho­ tographers who had the resources to process and print their films.

The Sydney portrait photographer W alter Barnett produced films in association with the Lumière operator Marius Sestier for only a few months. Another Sydney photographer produced films for over five years. Jack Cato’s Story o f the C am era in Australia (1955)34 doesn’t mention him, and, as most subsequent writers based their research on Cato, he has not been mentioned since. A. J. Perier’s unpublished critical essay on Cato’s book corrects this oversight: Now what about Mark Blow? He certainly played a most important part in the photographic world of Sydney. He made his own papers and plates, and was very early in the field with the cine show business.

The Polytechnic site in King Street was an important show place; he had both ‘Van’ [Willem Van Der Velden] and Mr. Jenkins as operators. He introduced the Joly process of Colour Photography and also exhibited the early X-ray machines [...] He and ‘Falk’ [Walter Barnett] had the largest Galleries in the city [...] Blow’s premises were situated in George Street, where Farmers now stands.

At the back he had a large store and work rooms, where his papers and plates were manufactured.35

Born in Portsmouth, England, Mark Blow came to Australia via Canada and the U.S., establishing a Sydney photographic studio with one assist­ ant in 18 8 8.36 He waged a ruthless price war on the other Sydney studios through the 1890s37, by 1900 expand­ ing to manage four outlets with an aggregate staff of 82.38 Following the lead of M acM ahon, Barnett and Oldershaw, he converted a part of his “Crown Studio” at 382 George Street into a public display space for exhibitions of film projec­ tion, kinetoscope peepshows, X-rays and other novelties. This “ Crown Stu­ dio Cinematographe and Röntgen Ray E xh ib ition ” opened on 2 M arch 1897.39 Blow’s first projector was a Baker & Rouse im port40, probably the Wrench Cinematograph, a British machine offered for £36 since m id-1896.41 It was very popular with Australian exhibitors during 1897, including J. B. Wakely of Newcastle, J. Yeoman of Melbourne and Melbourne’s Salvation Army Limelight Department.42 Only one of the fifteen films shown on Blow’s opening day was advertised as a local subject, B on di B ath ers, and that was probably a fancifully re-titled import.43 However, by August 1897 Blow imported a movie camera and commenced a prolific programme of local film production.

M

ark

B low 's " P

o ly te c h n ic "

Within three months of its opening, the popularity of Blow’s “Crown Studio Cinematographe” was sufficient to outgrow his George Street premises. He moved the show to a hall at 82 King Street which he fitted with a stage to add ‘live’ acts and an orchestra in support of his movies. It opened on 7 June 1897 as the Sydney

Mark Blow, as seen in Australian Photo­ graphic Journal, 20 March 1900 (p. 55). Blow was proprietor of the Crown Photographic Studios, Sydney, owner of the Sydney Polytechnic and a prolific filmmaker from 1897 to 1901.

“Polytechnic”44, a name borrowed from an earlier London venue re­ nowned for its scientific displays.45 Managed by W . E. Wallace, the “Polytechnic” was Sydney’s equiva­ lent of an American nickelodeon: The films are now run on a new [Edison] machine which reduces the flicker of the pictures to a minimum, and adds largely to their realism and to the pleas­ ure of looking at them. Mr. Wallace is an enthusiast on X-rays, and gives lucid explanations as well as practical exhibitions of their startling revela­ tions. Phonographs, Kinetoscopes, strength and lung testers, with all sorts of odds and ends of scientific marvels are in the charge of a courteous young lady who dispenses them without favouritism. A piano and violin furnish pleasant music, and the whole entertainment costs but one shilling.46 There were very few permanent Australian film venues at this time. No film exchanges or libraries yet existed, so that exhibitors had to purchase their films. This was an expensive proposition, inducing most exhibitors to lead a nomadic existence, showing their limited stock of film to different audiences in constantly-changing locales. Blow’s photographic facilities allowed him to make his own films cheaply, giving his fixed venue a constantly changing pro­ gramme with local appeal.

The first definite report of Blow producing local films concerned his difficulties with Randwick officials in shooting races during late August or early September 1897.47 It is possible to assemble a fairly complete list of Blow’s output from T he Sydney M orning H erald advertisements which form the basis of our filmography. He was the first Australian film exhibitor to recognize the “drawing power” of indigenous film, including it with imported material at the Polytechnic on an irregular basis from September 1897 to the start of 1899. The local production effort came to an abrupt halt on 1 March 1899, when a fire caused by the inflammability of nitrate film destroyed the Polytechnic’s projection room and a significant proportion of its film equip­ ment.48 Fortunately, the fire occurred during a poorly attended session, and only the Polytechnic manager, Wallace, was slightly burned.

CONTINUES

ON

PAGE

59

Sydney’s oldest surviving film clips are these copyright registration strips of Walter Barnett’s films shot at the Sydney Cricket Ground, c.

16 December 1897. Lodged with the British Public Records Office on 1 February 1898, the subjects are: Film 1: “Prince Ranjitsinhji practising batting at wickets. Association Cricket Ground, Sydney, December 1 8 9 7 ”. Film 2: “Prince Ranjitsinhji and Hayward batting and running at the wickets, McKibbin bowling, on occasion of test match between England and Australia at Sydney, Australia, Dec. 10 etc 1 8 9 7 ”. Film 3: “English Cricket Team leaving the field on occasion of test match Dec. 10 etc 1897, Association Cricket Ground, Sydney”. Film 4: “New South Wales Cricket team leaving the field, test match Dec. 10th etc 1897, Association Cricket Ground, Sydney, Aust.”. (Courtesy British Public Records Office, Crown copyright) CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 - 43

FI L M

R EVIEWS

GREENKEEPING; GROSS MISCONDUCT; MORTE DI UN MATEMATICO NAPOLETANO [DEATH OF A NEAPOLITAN MATHEMATICIAN]; THE NUN AND THE BANDIT; ON MY OWN; PETER S FRIENDS; a n d , THE PIANO

claiming to have completed a course in horticul­ ture when in fact he barely even started it. Still, he figures people get jobs mostly on bluff, then learn the ropes from the inside, and that’s the approach he plans to take. (In this respect, it is reminiscent of Christopher Morahan’s British thriller Paper Mask, 1991, though nowhere near as black.) For a while, things seem to be going well enough, but then the grass starts to turn yellow, a major disaster with a tournament only a short time away.

To complicate matters further, Lenny’s pri­ vate life is no bed of roses either. Married to the perpetually-stoned Sue (Lisa Hensley) and bur­ dened with a $3,000 debt, Lenny is reluctant to go home and is seriously enticed by the buxom form of Gina (Gia Carides), a barmaid at the bowls club. But Lenny’s resolve to follow the straight and narrow extends to making his mar­ riage work, and Gina’s upfront charms are re­ sisted in favour of the more subtle attractions that presumably lie somewhere beneath the marijuana-induced lethargy that surrounds Sue. Writer-director David Caesar has expended considerable energy in making the world inhab­ ited by Lenny seem real, and this is where the film works best. From the bowls club to the bedroom, there is a tackiness, a slightly run­ down feeling, aboutthe spaces that Lenny moves through. Unlike the green, though, it’s not his fault that they’re like that: they are symptomatic of a general malaise, an inertia, an unwilling­ ness to move away from the comfortable cer­ tainties of the immediate post-war era, or the drugged euphoria of the 1970s. The spaces are, like Ball’s shoe factory in Mark Joffe’s Spotswood (1992), emblematic of Australia as a whole.

Set in stark contrast against this collective inertia is the Japanese schoolboy, Rikyu (Kazuhiro Muroyama), who comes to the club to ABOVE: RIKYU (KAZUHIRO MUROYAMA) AND LENNY

GREENKEEPING

(MARK LITTLE). DAVID CAESAR'S GREENKEEPING. FACING PAGE: JENNIFER CARTER (NAOMI WATTS), TERRY McKENZIE (BRENDON SUHR)

GROSS MISCONDUCT.

PAPERS

95

QUINN

Clearly, his presence in the stoically pro-British, anti-Asian club is ruffling a few feathers; just as

an d professo r

JUSTIN THORNE (JIMMY SMITS). GEORGE MILLER'S

44 • C I N E M A

KARL

practise every day, dressed in pristine whites and exhibiting a fanatical devotion to technique.

R

emarkably, for a film which was nominated for an AFI Best Screenplay Award, and

clearly, he too has an emblematic function within Caesar’s schema.

referred to in Cinema Papers (no. 86) as “bril­

While Rikyu is obviously and heavily sym­

liantly-written” , Greenkeeping seems to be typi­ cal of so many recent Australian films in that it

bolic (and thus indicative both of how the film is structured and what is wrong with it), he does

suffers from having apparently been rushed into

provide the film with a much-needed narrative

production before its script was completely up to scratch.

thrust - well, more a nudge than a thrust really.

The tournament causing Lenny so much trouble,

The story is a quintessential^ Australian one.

and for which Rikyu is so eagerly preparing,

Lenny (Mark Little) has a history of being on the

serves as the climax of the film, a metaphorical

wrong side of the law, but is determined to go straight. To get the job of greenkeeper at a lawn

showdown between the Australian and the Japa­

bowls club, Lenny stretches the truth a little,

obvious that a film with a bowls tournament as its

nese ways of doing things - and it’s pretty

dramatic highpoint is going to have to pull some

GROSS MISCONDUCT

very fancy tricks out of the bag to maintain interest. Greenkeeping, however, does not.

What it does do is aim fo rthe self-conscious­ ness of “whimsical” or “quirky” comedy, surely two of the most over-used words to describe

The coupling of the two ends up being quite a messy affaire, and, next thing, Jennifer is in

GREG

KERR

hospital suffering from amnesia, while Thorne

ross Misconduct is a film with all the right

has the police at his door. Ratherthan delve into

materials for popularist, non-cerebral cin­

the sensitive minefield of sexual politics on the

ema. It has lust, a foreign ring-in, a noir edge,

university campus, the writers tear into thrill­

G

Australian films of the past few years. Caesar

brutality and characters troubled by dark obses­

mode. There is a court trial (in Melbourne’s state

apparently likes to think of the film as treading

sions. The end product, however, fails so dis­

parliament chambers, of all places), some juicy

sim ilar ground to the work of Bill Forsyth

mally to mix its ingredients it would be charitable

revelations and a bloody climax that may, if

to describe it as a slick potboiler.

nothing else, change the way one thinks about

( Gregory’s Girl, 1981; Local Hero, 1983; Com­ fort and Joy, 1984) and Barry Levinson’s Balti­

Directed by George Miller ( The Man From

more films (Diner, 1982; Tin Men, 1987), and

Snowy River), this internationally-tailored pic­

While the director and the scriptwriters have

there is certainly that attention to detail in com­

ture is devoid of substance, style and identity. It

tried to spice up the story, a heavy air of pre­

mon. But what makes a film like Local Hero or

is a self-conscious study of tense individuals lost

emptiveness signals any real plot developments,

Tin Men so enjoyable is the complexity of the

on a Gothic stage bereft of spontaneity and

and, when they do occur, it is often in front of a

characters, the sense that, while we know per­ fectly well what they will probably do at any given

meaning.

prominent Melbourne landmark. The film has a

moment, they might just as easily do something

Justin Thorne (Jimmy Smits), who has taken up

ally darting up in the right place just at the right

c o m p le te ly u n e xp e cte d , th o u g h no less believeable. So intent on representing types are

residency in Melbourne with his family, to teach

or wrong time, while the acting tends to be

philosophy to a throng of admiring university

constrained by a script that offers nothing new

David Caesar’s characters, by contrast, that

students. Among them is JenniferCarter (Naomi

from the well-documented territory it covers.

there is little chance of the audience being sur­

Watts), a moody girl who happens to baby-sit the

The film ’s biggest liability is its lack of cred­

prised.

ibility, and this is largely due to its being struc­

Nor does the plot take any turns that are

professor’s children, and who also happens to be madly in love with him.

anything other than predictable. Apart from

Some major complications emerge. Thorne

One can well ask why the need forthe American

Lenny’s struggle with the green, green grass of

is happily married, and is a long-time friend of

Jimmy Smits as the leading man when a local

the bowls club, the major source of tension in the

Jennifer’s father (Adrian Wright). And as much

actor could have filled the brief quite as effec­

film involves the attempts of drug dealer Dave

as Thorne is flamboyant, he errs on the side of caution (the family car is a Volvo).

tively. While it would be unfair to take anything

(Leigh Russell) to extract the $3,000 Sue owes him by any means necessary- including^beating

It tells the story of an American professor,

Even so, the film courses its way toward the

manual orange juice squeezers.

phoney sense of pacing with characters continu­

tured to appeal to a broad, international audience.

away from Smits, the film botches up in making such

an

issue

of

P ro fe s s o r

T h o rn e ’s

up Lenny’s car. But this sub-plot hardly goes

carnal transgression between Thorne and

“Americanness” when it is of no relevance to the

anywhere, providing mere nuisance value rather

Jennifer with an over-emphasis that is indicative

story. T ho rne ’s wife (local actress Sarah

than a real sense of urgency, in part because

of the entire production. Within the first five

Chadwick) continually lapses In and out of her

Caesar has made his villains seem even more

minutes, the camera has already framed at least

American accent, while several minor charac­

inept than his heroes.

three of Jennifer’s longing stares in Professor

ters - written in as a cultural counterpoint to the

I don’t usually take the line of criticism which

Thorne’s direction, and, not long after, Jennifer

leading man - speak with such an “ocker” twang

attacks a film for things which it does not contain

is thrusting her tongue down his throat. What

rather than those which it does, but in the case

hope does the poor Professor have?

one would think they were recruited from an outback two-up ring.

of Greenkeeping I feel an irresistible urge to posit an alternative line that the film might have taken to greater comic advantage. Lenny, hav­ ing landed the job at the bowls club but facing serious trouble from Dave if he can’t repay the money quickly, and finding that the club is in dire financial straits (which is another of the barelyutilized plot points), unhappily and with a sense of inevitability returns to what he knows best: growing dope. The comic potential of Lenny as reluctant drug baron resuscitating the fortunes of the staid bowls club, while carving out an entrepreneurial niche for himself, is surely greater than what Caesar has actually given us: the enthralling spectacle of watching Lenny watch­ ing grass grow.

GREENKEEPING Directed by David Caesar. Pro­ ducer: Glenys Rowe. Scriptwriter: David Caesar. Di­ rector of photography: Simon Smith. Production designer: Kerith Holmes. Costume designer: Tess Schofield. Sound recordist: Liam Egan. Editor: Mark Perry. Composer: David Bridie. Cast: Mark Little (Lenny), Lisa Hensley (Sue), Max Cullen (Tom), Kazuhiro Muroyama (Rikyu), Jan Adele (Doreen), Gia Carides (Gina), Syd Conabere (Milton). Central Park Films. Australian distributor: Ronin. 35mm. 86 mins.

Australia. 1993.

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 • 45

It is indeed cringeable to think the average

scenes but never reaches a distinct note of its

Australian male (as depicted by Brendan Suhr)

own, which is arguably a strength in a film so

is a beer-swilling larrikin whose repartee in­

acutely aware of the mise-en-scene.

At best, Gross Misconduct is a glossy-look­

cludes dubious colloquialisms like “colderthan a witch’s tit” and “sillier than a wheel” .

ing morality tale about the recoil of fate and

Jimmy Smits puts in a typical, broodingly

redemption. On the whole, though, it goes down

MORTE DI UN MATEMATICO NAPOLETANO [DEATH OF A NEAPOLITAN MATHEMATICIAN] JOHN

CONOMOS

methodical performance of a man grappling with

as an uninspiring, shallow filmmaking excursion

: k A ario Martone’s low-budget feature debut,

the forces of retribution set in motion by a carnal

that does little more than instil the viewer with a

l w \ Morte di un Matem atico Napoletano

indiscretion. His character is certainly interest­

cheap sense of voyeurism.

(Death o f a Neapolitan Mathematician), is a loosely-based account ofthe last days of Renato

Plato and shows slides of ancient love-making

GROSS MISCONDUCT Directed by George Miller.

Caccioppoli (played to perfection by Carlo

techniques; at night, he goes home to hjs happy

P roducers: David Hannay, R ichard S h e ffie ld -

Cecchi), a genial, world-weary mathematical genius who was the grandson of the Russian

ing enough: in lectures, he quotes the likes of

family or blasts off a bit of steam on the saxo­ phone at a club when it suits him. Again, the only problem here is the gelling of all the parts Into a believeable whole.

MacClure. Executive producer: Richard Becker. As­ sociate producer: Rocky Bester. Scriptwriters: Lance Peters, Gerard Maguire. Based on the play, Assault with a Deadly Weapon, by Lance Peters. Director of photography: David Connell. Production designer:

anarchist Mikhail Bakunin. From the opening credits of this finely-directed and immenselyatmospheric movie, we are told that what follows

Naomi Watts has come a long way since she

Jon Dowding. Sound recordist: Andrew Ramage. Edi­

is not a biographical portrait (based on real facts

knocked back Tom Cruise’s offer of a date in the

tor: Henry Dangar. Composer: Bruce Rowland. Cast:

and characters), but rather a sensuous and

lamb roast commercial, and her rôle of the deeply-

Jimmy Smits (Justin Thorne), Naomi Watts (Jennifer

gripping imaginative tale of the last week spent

Carter), Sarah Chadwick (LauraThorne), Adrian Wright

by Caccioppoli as he drifts through the lives of

troubled Jennifercertainly won’t doherstanding any harm, particularly if the movie is picked up on foreign markets. It is only a pity that the

(Kenneth C arter), Leverne M cD onnell (M iriam McMahon), Alan Fletcher (Henry Landers), Beverley Dunn (Judge Barlow), Paul Sonkkila (Rowland Curtis),

his remaining friends before committing suicide.

Caccioppoli’s languid melancholia is cap­

director does not let viewers make up their own

Ross W illiams (Guildeman), Nicholas Bell (Det.

tured by his unmistakeably individualistic and

mind about what Jennifer might or might not do.

Matthews), Brendon Suhr (Terry McKenzie). PRO

The same can be said of Jennifer’s flint-edged

Films (No. 1). Australian distributor: REP. 35mm. 96

dishevelled persona: a dirty trenchcoat, a scarf wrapped around his neck, a cigarette in his

father, who is quite clearly harbouring an inner­

mins. Australia. 1993.

mouth and a whisky bottle close by. His chronic

darkness beneath a cloak of prim respectability.

While scriptwriters Lance Peters and Gerard

BELOW: RENATO CACCIOPPOLI (CARLO CECCHI).

MARIO MARTONE'S MORTE D l UN M ATM ATIC O NAPOLETANO ( DEATH OF A NEAPOLITAN MATHEMATICIAN ).

Maguire do not shine in the realms of depth or originality, they hit the right mark when they occasionally dare to be funny. There is a flippant steal of the notorious “stand behind the line” prison scene in The Blues Brothers (John Landis, 1980), while Ross Williams’ quirky portrayal of Guildeman, the lawyer, lightens up the tone of the drama when it is needed most.

Director George Miller, a former accountant by trade, cannot be knocked for getting this project together, but there is not much evidence on the screen to suggest he is a filmmaker of natural instinct and vision. His direction is gen­ erally methodical and often flawed by labouring a point, although a few interesting camera an­ gles and special effects are used to good effect.

One recallsthe use of some blurred, slow-speed framing to highlight a state of heightened emo­ tional distortion during the aforementioned “rape” scene.

In a recent radio interview, Miller said he chose his home base Melbourne as the setting for the film because it had the moody atmos­ pherics in keeping with the story, although the city’s identity remains anonymous throughout.

The city sure looks handsome enough with its Gothic façades and lavish interiors, but it lacks a sense of demographic substance, and cer­ tainly isn’t showcased with anywhere near the effectiveness of Frank Howson’s internation­ ally-honed drama, Hunting (1992).

Thanks to the poised eye of director of pho­ tography David C onnell, the settings are brochuristically pleasing, but do nothing to abate the sense of remoteness one feels with the characters and their surrounds. The production design borders on the surreal: shadows play a big part in the lighting, windows are pelted by driving rain, while fires and candles burn inces­ santly in almost every room. The music of Bruce Rowland helps build the tension in one or two

46 . C I N E M A

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95

V -ÿ

N

• -J

alcoholism and suicidal proclivities express an

a sun descending over the roofs of Napoli. It’s a

ethical stance of integrity and existential cyni­

hauntingly atmospheric scene that corresponds

cism towards the petty-minded “Marx Brothers”

so vividly to Caccioppoli’s fatalistic disenchant­

THE NUN A N D THE BANDIT PETER

MALONE

rituals of the academy, the failure of the Commu­

ment. Cecchi’s performance is so unobtrusively

nist politics and the hollowness of late-capitalist

believeable and seductive. He is able to convey

consumerism. In one extraordinary scene, we

so consummately - through the right kind of

not only focuses on a nun, but a European nun

see him at the end of a long table isolated from

bodily nuances and mannerisms - the existen­

visiting Australia in the 1940s or ’50s, abducted

ny film with a nun as a central character is

A

i a risky project. Yet, Paul Cox’s latest film

his academic peers (it is apparent he has been

tial torments and erudite irony that were central

and threatened violently and sexually in the

on one of his drinking binges) who are busily

to Caccioppoli’s life.

Australian bush. It is also burdened with the

engaged in academic administration issues and politics. Bored and indifferent to the charade

In fact, Caccioppoli comes across to be a very complex and compelling character: though

Clint Eastwood and Shirley MacLaine were more

that is taking place in front of him, he proceeds

he has cut off his ties witPi the Communist party,

fortunate with Two Mules for Sister Sarah (1970).

‘penny dreadful’ title of The Nun and the Bandit.

to crawl over the table to reach for a book to

he still has time for his old comrades; equally, he

Cox has adapted a novel, published in the

read. In the next scene, only he is to be seen

does not moralize to his friends or to his col­

1930s, by Scottish author E. L. Grant Watson.

sleeping off his drinking stupor. It is an acute

leagues and students. His wisdom resides in the

(Cox’s subsequent production is Exile, based on

image of Caccioppoli’s social decline and gen­

Renoirian precept that human motivation is a

Watson’s Priest Island.)

eral refusal to play the game - anybody’s game.

multifaceted thing and that everybody has his

Besides the title, The Nun and the Bandit is

This includes his affectionate but conde­ scending bourgeois brother, Luigi (Renato

reasons for doing what they do at a particular

also burdened with almost a century of films

moment in their lives. Caccioppoli’s compassion

about nuns. The cinemagoer (including critics)

Carpentieri), his upwardly mobile, ambitious

for human life appears to be limitless.

has been exposed to hundredsof celluloid nuns,

pupil, Pietro (Tony Servillo), his separated wife,

The classroom scenes where Caccioppoli is holding exams are scenes that operate as a

the real thing. Hollywood, especially, has made

and his empathetic, academic cleric friend and

microcosm of how the world looks at the math­

them carry a load of sentiment and religious

colleague, Don Simplicio (Antonio Neiweller).

ematician. The students are engrossed by their

fervour (often of the ultra-pious variety) and

Caccioppoli’s integrity and sardonic wit is

professor’s erratic behaviour: they see only ex­

clothed them in habits that may or may not have

informed by an intelligence that has to speak the

ternal surfaces of the mathematician’s tormented

been realistic - from Ingrid Bergman (twice) to

truth regardless of social and/or personal re­ ward. In one memorable instance of the pro­

life. They may raise their eyebrows when

Stella Stevens and Joan Collins. These images

Caccioppoli dances during an examination, and

of the movie nun - her appearance, her de­

Anna (Anna Bonauito), who longs to be with him,

a great many of whom bear little resemblance to

tagonist’s formidable lucidity, we see him stretch

little do they empathize (unlike Don Simplicio)

meanour, her speech - are so embedded in the

out his hand to demonstrate to Don Simplicio the

with his eccentricities or intolerance for intellec­

audience consciousness that serious attempts

futile gap that exists between religion and life.

He shows the Bach-playing priest-mathemati­

tual and social conformity, but Martone does not

to portray a credible nun of the past or the

condemn nor satirize society for its inability to

present are almost impossible.

cian his hand, telling him that it represents Logos

accom m odate som eone like C accioppoli.

Nuns are still made to parade in habits that

or The Bible, and, when he tries to move his

Throughout Napoli, as we shadow Caccioppoli’s

went out of use twenty years ago, and are trotted

hand to touch his pulse in his wrist (representing

last few days, he is gently greeted by shopkeep­

out as a religious cliché in the background or a

life), the two don’t meet. It’s a graphic, witty

ers, acquaintances and the like as “ Professor” .

spiritual device for plot development, not as

instance of Caccioppoli’s uncommon intelligence

He is held in high esteem and tolerated by many.

characters worth exploring in themselves.

and tragic sense of life.

Death of a Neapolitan Mathematician is a

In the past, there have been some significant

And yet, Caccioppoli’s nihilistic world-view is

powerful, delicate and engrossing movie of many

films looking at women as nuns, their commit­

not a completely dark one: there is also a pro­

exquisite visual pleasures. This film is not so

ment, their struggles, and their counter-cultural

found, non-judgemental attitude to people’s as­

much a matter of looking at life through a glass

role in society, critiquing its values. Deborah

pirations, foibles and limitations. In a noteworthy

darkly, but through a prismatic jewel of smoky

dinner sequence, we see Caccioppoli express a

Kerr had two opportunities: as an Anglican in Black Narcissus (Michael Powell, 1946) and as

preference for comedy over tragedy, citing Buster

golden hues. Luca Bigazzi’s highly-refined pho­ tography shines through time and again with its

a Catholic in a film that will come to mind with

Keaton’s glorious cinema, and later on inform

painterly lighting style.

echo-themes for audiences of The Nun and the

his Marxist and mathematical friends that sui­

This is not a flashy, mannered work; instead,

cide by shooting (he actually foreshadows the

it is an impressively understated movie that

1957). Other arresting examples include Audrey

exact way he kills himself later on) may be a

elliptically conveys the shifting cultural, intellec­

Hepburn in The Nun’s Story (Fred Zinnemann,

noble act of existential freedom.

tual and social beliefs of modern Italy since the

1959) and Vanessa Redgrave in a 17th-Century French convent in The Devils (Ken Russell, 1971).

One of the film ’s more appealing features is

beginning of this century, full of perceptions

its modest directorial style and non-moralizing

about the enigmatic complexities and ambigui­

spirit towards its self-destructive protagonist. All

ties of human behaviour, creativity and integrity.

the performers (many coming from avant-garde theatre, literary and musical backgrounds) have

MORTE Dl UN MATEMATICO NAPOLETANO [Death

contributed significantly to the overall dramatic

of a Neapolitan Mathematician] Directed by Mario

and stylistic success of the movie. Cecchi, as the disillusioned mathematician, is unbelieveably

Martone. Producer: Angelo Curti. Associate produc­ ers: Antonietta De Lillo, Giorgio Magliulo. Scriptwriters: Mario Martone, Fabrizia Ramondino. Director of pho­

Bandit, Heaven Knows Mr. Allison (John Huston,

The 1990s’ audience has now been influ­ enced by the good-natured high-jinks of Whoopi Goldberg in Sister Act (1992) which, despite attempts at decorum (even in a Reno casino) by the Mother Superior (Maggie Smith), bear as little resemblance to reality as the Police Acad­

captivating to watch. He moves through the

tography: Luca Bigazzi. Art director: Giancarlo Muselli.

emy series does to the actual police. The ABC

golden pastel surroundings of a sensuous and

Costume designer: Metella Raboni. Sound recordist:

mini-series, The Brides of Christ, has been the

vanished Napoli (a city whose enchanting “docu­

Hubert Nijhuis. Editor: Jacopo Quadri. Composer:

mentary” streetscapes and classical buildings

Michele Campanella. Cast: Carlo Cecchi (Renato

most authentic treatment of nuns in Australia up till now.

seem to have been painted by Watteau or wor­

C a c c io p p o li), Anna B o n a u ito (A nn a), R enato

thy of Gide’s pen - a writer who was, inciden­ tally, a friend of Caccioppoli’s family) like a doomed but wise opera hero.

Carpentieri (Luigi), Antonio Neiwiller (Don Simplicio), Tony Servillo (Mathematician), LiciaMaglietta (Emilia), Fulvia Carotenuto (Lina), Roberto De Francesco (Leonardo), Andrea Renzi (Leo), Lucio Amelio (The

In The Nun and the Bandit, Cox takes his audience back almost half a century, to a time when Australian society lived with more good manners, restraint and propriety, and where the

However, the scene that stands out from

Marquis). Teatri Uniti in collaboration with Rai Tre,

Catholic Church and its institutions were looked

amongst a number of equally unforgettable

Banco di Napoli and Ministry of Tourism and Enter­

on with some reverence and respect, even by

scenes is the one where we see Caccioppoli

tainment. Australian distributor: Magic Boot Enter­

non-believers or those hostile to the Church.

drinking on a rooftop, looking at a golden ball of

tainment. 35mm. 108 mins. Italy. 1992.

Cox’s film dramatizes this history.

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 . 47

MICHAEL SHANLEY (CHRIS HAYWOOD) AND SISTER LUCY (GOSIA DOBROWOLSKA). PAUL COX'S THE NUN AND THE BANDIT.

between Simon (Matthew Ferguson) and his father (David Mcllwraith), Simon and his mother (Judy Davis), and Simon and his colleagues.

The film contrasts the tensions between father and son against the growing bond between mother and son in a symmetrically structured series of two-character vignettes - private têteà-têtes which take place at school, in bedrooms and at stations.

Betrayal is introduced at the start during a confrontation between father and son. The fa­ ther’s surface calm is rankled by Simon’s ques­ tioning and suspicion. Rather than dealing with it in a constructive manner, the father asserts his authority by controlling the amount of informa­ tion he reveals to him. It is obvious the father is threatened by the bond which flourishes be­ tween mother and son, and tries to destroy it by limiting the communication between them. It is a classic case of what you don’t know won’t hurt you; however, the father learns too late that it his own growing up. He is no beast who will turn

only serves to further estrange him from his son.

formance as the nun, Sister Lucy, seems au­

into a prince if kissed.

thentic. She looks right; she sounds right. And

Some of the audience at the Festival disliked the film, stating that it is chauvinist, anti-women

The father is uncomfortable with weakness and illness. He sees his wife’s illness as a slight against him. Simon is the silent witness to this,

and contains the “ultimate male fantasy” : the

the anchor in this highly-dysfunctional family. despite coming from opposite ends of the “insti­

addressing Christ, the expression of her moral

rape of a nun. Were the audience invited to empathize with Chris Haywood’s character, were he presented as having some charm, the point

dilemma - when confronted with the brutal threats and advances of the rough miner, Michael

might have some validity. But the film is not asking for audience identification with him.

In this context, Gosia Dobrowolska’s per­

the screenplay device of having her pray in voice-over is effective in communicating just how a nun in her situation at that time would have prayed - the language, addressing God,

Shanley (Chris Haywood).

The more Simon is drawn into his mother’s

a woman, and her commitment by her vow of

more difficult it is for him to break away. Bannered underthe guise of preparing oneforthe “outside

bourne Film Festival, that the “theology is dubi­

dilemma in the context of a more proper era. The

ous” . Theology is not a usual criterion for the

authenticity of Gosia Dobrowolska’s perform­ ance, the historical credibility of the nun’s ac­ tions, words and prayer, lift this screen treatment

nary vow of celibacy, not marrying, that is re­

sus a mental institution. world, the more closely the institutions align and

chastity when faced with this sexual and power

God, according to the spirituality of her religious order, of chastity. This is not merely the discipli­

tutional” spectrum - an élite private school ver­

Rather, the focus is on the nun and her being

Neii Jillett has remarked, in his The Age review, after the film ’s screening at the Mel­

assessment of a film. The relevant theological issue here is that the nun has made a vow to

Simon and his mother are rebels and loners,

of a nun from the frequently trivial portrayals of vowed women.

quired of priests. It is a specific vow of committing

THE NUN AND THE BANDIT Directed by Paul Cox. Producers: Paul Ammitzbol, Paul Cox. Executive pro­

oneself to a personally chaste life.

ducer: William T. Marshall. Scriptwriter: Paul Cox.

world” , each place “trains” minds to conform to societal norms. Rebellion or deviance is not tolerated. Beneath each institution’s tranquil, manicured façade lies a plethora of frustrations and anxieties, which surface during the film ’s dénouement - a D. H. Lawrence-style, clandes­ tine meeting in a hotel room between mother and son.

The miner makes advances to the nun. He

Director of photography: Nino Martinetti. Production

The hotel scene has an œdipal, sensual quality. Mother and son play truant from their

then promises to release his teenage niece,

designer: NeilAngwin. Sound recordists: James Currie,

institutions for one night, shacking up like love

whom he has also abducted, if the nun will

Craig Carter. Editor: Paul Cox. Composers: Tom E.

consent to have sex with him. What is she to do?

She has committed herself by vow, but does the

Lewis, Norman Kaye. Cast: Gosia Dobrowolska (Sis­

birds in a tiny room, sharing intimate secrets, Simon reading love poetry to his naked mother

safety of the child supersede that vow? Should she consent? Should she kill herself? Is this

ter Lucy), Chris Haywood (Michael Shanley), Victoria Eagger (Maureen), Charlotte Hughes Haywood (Julie), Norman Kaye (George Shanley), Tom E. Lewis (Bert Shanley), Scott Michael Stephenson (Frankie); Robert

lying in bed, then curling up against her starved body, reminiscing about the past and making plans for the future.

morally and physically ‘a fate worse than death’?

Menzies, Eva Sitta, John Flaus and Tony Llewellyn-

If she gives her word and the child is released,

Jones. Illum ination Films. Australian distributor:

Their doomed future is sealed when his mother breaks down and rejects their intimacy.

is she still bound to keep her word to the miner?

Roadshow. 35mm. 92 mins. Australia. 1993.

Simon cannot deal with the rejection and reacts

It is not easy to answer these questions in the comfort of an armchair in a theological college,

O N MY OWN

let alone in a personally threatening situation.

The screenplay handles the dilemmas well (and, for the nun, psychologically soundly), giving them a religious dimension, relying on the nun’s trust in God and the growing sense of God’s absence, and her having to make the decision in the strength of her own integrity.

The film does not romanticize the situation.

Chris Haywood plays the abductor as a rough,

like a jealous lover, taunting her with cruel com­

PAT

GILLESPIE

ments, and later sulking in the bathroom while she pleads for forgiveness. One wonders who has more strength: the mother for realizing that

solation, betrayal and grief are the key issues

their romantic reunion is doomed and that the

in this delicate study of the frail human psy­

past must be cut away, or Simon, like Gatsby, healing old wounds by trying to recreate past happiness.

I

che. On My Own director and co-writer Antonio Tibaldi explores the bitter-sweet relationship between a young man and his mother - one

Simon and his mother swap rôles: she gives

suffering from a debilitating mind disorder, the

rein to the child within her, while he struggles

other whose agile mind is coming of age.

with his adulthood. His need to prove his love to

often gross, man from the mountains who bears

Mostly, the film deals with taking and relin­

his mother by breaking down her barriers is as

family grudges as well as savage memories of

quishing control, looking at the power plays

overwhelming as his mother’s need to be loved.

48 • C I N E M A

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95

Resigned to rejection, the mother headbutts

PETER’S FRIENDS

together. Making them students in a university

the window, injuring herself. This act of selfmutilation makes Simon realize how dependent

gether by the camaraderie of those who perform

BRIAN

McFARLANE

revue is one of the many felicities of the screen­

and desperate his mother is for love. The Oscar

i s virtually every reviewer has noted, Kenneth

play by Rita Rudner (also co-starring) and Mar­

Wilde line, “Yet each man kills the things he

Branagh’s new film, Peter’s Friends, shares

tin Bergman: it legitimates the steady flow of

loves” , aptly sums up herframe of mind, creating

a format with Lawrence Kasdan’s The Big Chill

one-liners that peppers the dialogue and re­

dis-ease and a sense of inevitable doom.

(1983) and John Sayles’ The Return of the

sponse to which differentiates the friends from

The film looks at the nature of love, and how

Secaucus 7(1980). They are all films centred on

betrayal, isolation and guilt can waste a per­

the idea of a group of old friends brought to­

the film ’s two outsiders, and it provides a very tight group-within-a-group, bound together by

son’s psyche. The mother’s illness, herdistorted dreams and her private horrors stem from rejec­

gether years later by an occasion which leads to

the shared recollection of esoteric rituals and

some soul-searching and which provokes a test­

language.

tion. There is a rather tortured quality about the

ing of the quality of the former friendship. It also

A montage of cultural/political/national/inter-

way Judy Davis interprets the role of the mother: half waif, half madwoman, alternating between

has affiliations with any number of films which

national references and events follows the pro­

unite groups of people in a confined setting and

logue. This segment consists of black-and-white

lover and mother, seducing her son with her

watches how they behave. Think of all those

newsreel-type shots of a spectrum of famous

poetry and madness.

films set on ocean liners, in country houses or on

In the meantime, Simon is caught between

Orient Expresses; it is an endlessly fascinating

1980s faces, headlines and images: Boy George (carrying on the gender-blurring images of the

desiring his first love - his m o th e r- and the need

narrative strategy, one which novelists and film ­

prologue’s revue team), Reagan and Nancy,

to explore sex with other women. He feels pow­

makers have been exploiting successfully for

Gorbachev and Raisa, Mrs Thatcher, the infa­

erless to pursue the opposite sex while still

decades.

mous “Gotcha!” response to the sinking of the

trapped under his mother’s spell. He is freed

W hat gives Branagh’s film , along with

“Belgrano” , the death of Rock Hudson (fore­

from his emotional dilemma after her death.

Kasdan’s and Sayles’ (not to forget Bruce

shadowing Peter’s own likely fate a decade

Struggling with his grief, he dons a tuxedo and

Beresford’s Don’s Party, 1976), an added reso­

later), Satanic Verses and Saddam Hussein,

attends the school ball, in celebration of his new­

nance is that the assembled guests have not only been brought together and given some­

and others. Clearly, Branagh means us to con­ struct from this kaleidoscopic view of a decade

found manhood.

thing to react to but have a shared past to recall

the world into which their soon-to-be graduates

ON MY OWN Directed by Antonio Tibaldi. Producers:

and/orsuppress. In their more recent pasts, they

are about to move and to be changed by.

Leo Pescarolo, Elisa Resegotti. Executive producers:

have a range of personal tragedies, successes and disappointments, which the reunion will

Lael McCall, Rosa Colosimo. Co-producers: Stavros C. Stavrides, Will Spencer. Scriptwriters: Gill Dennis, Antonio Tibaldi, John Frizzell. Director of photogra­

gradually, orsometimes abruptly, exposeforthe

For all their sharp-wittedness and alertness to the world and its follies, they are revealed ten years later, when the rest of the film takes place,

consideration of the others. Personally, I find it

not to have been much marked by the tumultu­

designer: Kathy Vieira. Sound recordist: Allan Scarth.

an irresistible formula and Peter’s Friends an

ous times they have lived through or to have

Editor: Edward McQueen-Mason. Composer: Franco

irresistible exemplar of the sub-genre.

made any serious mark on those times. Salman

phy: Vic Sarin. Art director: Bill Fleming. Costume

Piersanti. Cast: Judy Davis (M other), M atthew

A prologue set on New Year’s Eve 1982

Ferguson (Simon), David Mcllwraith (Father), Nicholas

establishes the group of six, the eponymous friends who have just presented their under­

Van Burek (Max), Michele Melega (Shammas), Colin Fox (Palter), Jan Rubes (The Colonel), Rachel Blanchard (Tania), Lanna MacKay (Evi), Michael Polley

graduate review before an unappreciative up­

Rushdie may have lived in terror as a result of his writing, but the writers among Peter’s friends have aspired to nothing higher than television commercial jingles (the married Mary and Roger)

(Zuzu). Ellepi Films-Alliance Communications Corpo-

per-class audience. This prologue, in which they

and a long-running American sitcom (alcoholic

ration-Rosa Colosimo. Australian distributor: Ronin.

appear in sexually-ambiguous costume and

Andrew). The montage segm entfunctions ironi­

35mm. 90 mins. Italy-Canada-Australia. 1992.

make-up, makes clear that they are bound to­

cally. It’s not a matter of setting up a background

SIMON (MATTHEW FERGUSON) AND HIS MOTHER (JUDY DAVIS). ANTONIO TIBALDI'S ON M Y OWN.

of public events and then inviting us to see how the private lives interact with these. Rather, it is a case of private lives’ being all-consuming, for these more or less engaging eccentrics are all intensely self-absorbed. The major events of the preceding decade have had no effect on them at all, as far as we can see.

The 1992 section of the film begins with Peter (Stephen Fry) still grieving for the death of his aristocratic father and with no clear plan for the rest of his life except to give a weekend party for his old university chums. The plot - slender enough but also sturdy enough - is thus set in motion, as the film cuts to a round-up of the invitees, briefly sketching in their lives. Andrew (Branagh, self-cast as the least attractive of the group) and his sitcom star wife, the wildly egois­ tic Carol (played with malicious relish by Rudner herself) are dealing with her fans at the airport; the sexy Sarah (Alphonsia Emmanuel) and her new boyfriend, Brian (Tony Slattery), engage in frantic coitus at every likely time and place - and some unlikely ones; dowdy Maggie (Emma Thompson) frets about leaving her utterly indif­ ferent cat; and Mary (Imelda Staunton) can scarcely bring herself to leave Roger’s (Hugh Laurie) and her son with a sitter. All this is done briskly and, like the film as a whole, wittily. (“Play with the train that cost £40, not the box it came in” , Roger encourages his baby son.)

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 . 49

THE PIANO

Their modes of arrival (train or chauffeured

prise. It is constructed like a stage play in three

limousine), of reaction to the rooms Peter has

acts with a prologue; it is about a group of people

allocated them (Carol ransacks cupboards for a

who share a theatrical past and the kinds of

concealed television), and of dress (e.g.,

bonds that that might account for; and this final

Maggie’s billowing brown hold-all, Roger’s blazer and tie, Carol’s sequined glitter) are deftly used

gesture seems to connect the film to the older narrative mode. In direct contrast, Branagh’s

as signifiers of their differences. Enough has

wonderful Henry \/(1 989), which takes the play

been suggested about these to prepare the viewer - and listener, because listening is cru­

out of the past in so many ways, begins by announcing its allegiance to the illusion-making

These words would not be inappropriate as an

cial to afilm in which dialogue is param ou nt-for

apparatus of the film.

RAYMOND

YOUNIS

“It is moorish and wild and knotty as a root of heath!”

S

o wrote Charlotte Brontë in her preface to the second edition of Wuthering Heights.

the first night’s dinner in which cracks begin to

Stylistically, the film ’s staple is the long- or

epigraph to The Piano, though this film is not so much an example of Antipodean Gothic - the

appear in their amity. Structurally, Branagh has

medium-shot which gives the actors - stagelike

capitalization is intended to evoke not only thé

achieved a very seductive rhythm through which

a g a in -a chance to do their stuff. With actors like

atmosphere but also the grandeur which clearly

the film ’s movements and our narrative expecta­

these, one can ask for nothing more. Is Emma

figured in the film ’s conception - as an example

tions are kept nicely attuned.

Thompson the best film actress alive? Possibly,

of a late, very, very late, Romanticism. The

The rancours and emotional outbursts that surface during and after the dinner and the next

but the rest of the cast also perform immacu­

Gothic is not easy to characterize, though in­

lately, both individually and as an ensemble.

flamed emotions and scarcely-contained pas­

Branagh, producer and director as well as

sions, a sense of awe and mystery, as well as

structurally towards eliminating the two outsid­

actor, orchestrates the film’s tonal shifts with dis­

the idea of a supernatural presence, might be

ers. These are the American Carol, who rebels

cretion, knowing when and how to anchor the wit

included in a description. Romanticism would

at being “stuck down here with the cast of Mas­

(itself a rare enough commodity) in the reality of

terpiece Theatre”, and packs her cases and

often painful experience. It is a shame that Branagh tackled the LA private eye in the absurd, though not

cover the time period in the film: the emphasis on sensitive, emotional figures, the exotic rather

day’s sexual couplings (and non-couplings) work

neuroses and leaves, and the boorish Brian whose wife comes to bear him away from the

unentertaining, Dead Again (1991), otherwise one

than the mundane and the familiar; the question­ ing, often in a hysterical fashion, of the existing order, especially in a moral sense; the desire to affirm eccentricity or a fierce independence,

formerly voracious Sarah. Once these extrane­

might have wondered if he could do no wrong. As

ous two are out of the way, the film can move towards its 1992 New Year’s Eve climax, in

a man of the theatre, he is well on his way to becoming a major force in British cinema and a

which after a good deal of childish, maudlin,

vital link between the two media.

usually on the part of an individual; a scorn for the intellect and reason, and a privileging of the

PETER’S FRIENDS Directed by Kenneth Branagh.

the heavens and confers it upon men and women;

Producer: Kenneth Branagh. Executive producer:

the love of sensation; and a profound longing, an

Promethean transgressor who steals fire from

acrimonious talk and behaviour the solidarity of their old ties is touchingly upheld. It has taken Peter’s announcement of his condition to paper over the cracks, and perhaps it is only because of this, and because he has tried so hard to make

Stephen Evans. Co-producer: Martin Bergman. Line producer: David Parfitt. Scriptwriters: Rita Rudner,

it all like old times, that the final effect is convinc­

Martin Bergman. Director of photography: Roger Lanser. Production designer: Tim Harvey. Costume

ing and moving.

designers: Susan Coates, Stephanie Collie. Sound

As they rally round Peter, singing their old

recordist: David Crozier. Editor: Andrew Marcus. Cast:

revue song, “Let’s all go down to Oxford Circus” ,

Kenneth Branagh (Andrew), Alphonsia Emmanuel (Sarah), Stephen Fry (Peter), Hugh Laurie (Roger),

Peter’s cook-housekeeper, Vera (a beautiful cameo performance from Phyllida Law), and her

Phyllida Law (Vera), Alex Lowe (Paul), Rita Rudner (Carol), Tony Slattery (Brian), Imelda Staunton (Mary),

etwas m ehr... These are some of the things that one might include in the meaning of Romanti­ cism. In a number of senses, the film might be called an example of this. Such works have much that is appealing and imaginative, but there are problems too in many, usually struc­ tural in nature.

The film clearly draws on this recognizable Weltanschauung. Three examples should suf­

son, Paul (Alex Scott), watch and then gently

Emma Thompson (Maggie), Alex Scott (Paul). Ren­

close the doors on the group. This finale, like the

aissance Film, in association with Four Film Inti.

fice to demonstrate this point: Campion’s use of

drawing together of stage curtains, reinforces

Australian distributor: Roadshow. 35mm. 100 mins.

landscape and melodrama; the fascination with

the theatrical associations of the whole enter­

U.K. 1992.

death and “sleep” ; and the idea of an individual who attempts to break the manacles that a

WRITER-ACTOR KENNETH BRANAGH, SECOND FROM LEFT, WITH THE CAST OF PETER'S FRIENDS.

restrictive society and upbringing have applied.

It is clear in the film that the landscape has been chosen very carefully. At the outset, in the home of Ada (Holly Hunter), one gets a strong impression of enclosure and hence of sharplyrestricted boundaries on literal and symbolic levels. When Ada is transported to the island, there is a greater sense of expansiveness, of wider horizons. The positioning of the piano itself on the beach is one of the crucial images in this respect. It not only suggests the intrusion of human artifice upon a pristine and wild environ­ ment, the presence of a mechanical instrument in a world where form is stranger, wilder and more mutable, but it also reminds the viewer of the link between the flights of the imagination embodied in the sonatas that Ada plays and the restless surging of the waves around the shores.

In this context, Ada’s clothes are important.

She constantly walks through this wilderness covered in layer upon la y e r- itself an interesting strategy on a symbolic level - with corset, petti­ coat, chemise, skirt, pantaloons, etc., and not surprisingly does experience some difficulty.

(The film deals not just w iijh her quest for free­ dom, but also with the symbolic removal of the

50 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

95

it enters the piano itself as if to remind the viewer of the barriers that delineate Ada’s world, at least temporarily, or it penetrates the under­ growth to signal a determination to proceed and not to be frustrated. Natural light is used often: the interplay of light and shadow in itself comple­ ments and highlights many of the thematic con­ cerns.

It is not at all difficult to see why this film appealed so much to the learned panel of judges at Cannes. Like many notable romantic works though there are times, too, when the film seems to question certain romantic conventions-there is much to affect and move the viewer/reader.

But there are structural and otherfaults, too. The decision - one assumes that this is what it was - to exclude many motivations from the explicit content of the film might, in one sense, be seen to add something to the arguments. But, in another sense, it can and does detract from the cogency of the whole, for the ambiguities that arise dilute the sense of control and self-affirma­ tion which the film otherwise attempts to empha­ size, and leave quite a deal, much of it crucial, inadequately explained or even articulated.

Befuddlement, rather than insight, is likely to be the result in these cases.

There are other problems, too: the Maoris, as ADA (HOLLY HUNTER) AND HER DAUGHTER FLORA (ANNA PAQUIN). JANE CAMPION'S THE PIANO.

a group, are too homogenous in the film, which

layers which hinder this - a point that is rein­ forced when Baines (Harvey Keitel) becomes

Nyman’s writing for the instrument in the film

would suggest that the writer had some prob­

creates a wide range of moods, at times troubled

lems in the writing of the parts; and there is some variation in the quality (the opening sequences

her lover and asks her to remove one layer after another.)

The fram ing of a creeping plant, the

and restless, at other times recalling the expan­ sive, impassioned tonalities of Schubert’s late sonatas. That sleep of death which Hamlet had

supplejack, also adds much to the iconography

alluded to, and which romantic writers had been

of the film. This plant is dark, whorled and wild,

would be churlish to dwell on such things. This is

and it suggests the tangled destinies which are

half in love with, is in fact a catalyst for Ada’s final transformation and release. Through an affirma­

unfolding, lives which are interconnected and which can barely be contained within imposed

tion of the will, she surrounds both silence and death - or at least has begun to do so. Once

limitations because of the desires and yearning which course beneath the surfaces.

freed from the imperious ethic which determines

grandeur of its conception and for its attempts to resurrect and transform an idiom that is memo­ rably, even exultantly, cinematic.

and closing sequences are quite memorable; some of the sections in the central parts are less satisfying; some scenes are overdrawn). But it deserving of praise for its visual qualities, for the

Attitudes towards the land are also revealing.

whom she will marry and where, she may, the film suggests, learn to speak again, though in a

The husband and colonizer (of sorts), Stewart (Sam Neill), seeks to increase his ownership of

sion of her own innermost being and not so

it, even at the expense of Ada’s joy. He attempts

much a reflection of stifling social conventions

to shape it and control it, as he will attempt to

and codes. And with this rediscovered language, it seems, the boundaries of her world will be

designer: Janet Patterson. Sound recordist: Lee Smith.

quite different.

Cast: Holly Hunter (Ada), Harvey Keitel (George

control Ada and shape her life. Baines, hisfriend and aide, sees it as a means by which he can reach Ada and by which he can tempt Stewart.

language, one assumes, that is more an expres­

THE PIANO Directed by Jane Campion. Producer: Jan Chapman. Executive producer: Alain Depardieu.

Associate producer: MarkTurnball. Scriptwriter: Jane Campion. Director of photography: Stuart Dryburgh.

Production designer: Andrew McAlpine. Costume Editor: Veronika Jenet. Composer: Michael Nyman.

Baines), Sam Neill (Stewart), Anna Paquin (Flora),

The Maoris seem to be quite at ease with and in

The use of the camera also deserves men­ tion. At times, it seems to be suspended in the

it. It is so vividly captured that it becomes,

heavens above the sea and the island as if to

(Chief Nihe), Ian Mune (Reverend). Jan Chapman

almost, a character in the film, and its wild

highlight a fate that is indifferent to the lives of

Productions. Australian distributor: Roadshow. 35mm.

beauty and its desolate aspects add immeasur­

these flawed but passionate and tormented char­

120 mins. French-financed Australia-New Zealand

ably to the sense of a melodrama of repression,

acters; at other times its stillness emphasizes

co-production. 1993.

suppression, dark passion and consequent vio­

the ideas of imprisonment and stasis. At times,

Kerry W alker (Aunt Morag), G enevieve Lemon (Nessie), Tungia Baker (Hira), Te Whatanui Skipwith

lence unfolding on the screen.

The fascination with the sleep/death meta­ phor which is one of the principal tropes of the romantic œuvre is suggested in the quotation from Hood’s sonnet, “There is a silence where hath been no sound.” Here, silence connotes the suppressed voice, the stilled syllables - Ada has not spoken a word since the age of six (Jane Campion makes a number of points about the rather patronizing or suspicious attitude towards muteness in contemporary society and on the part of those who are products of it). In this context, the piano becomes the instrument of Ada’s thoughts and emotions, and Michael

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 • 51

B O O K

REV I E W S

MERCHANT OF DREAMS:

Mayer w asn’t perfect; he could be m anipulative,

amativeness” (p. 33). Sometimes the words

LOUIS B. MAYER, SECRET HOLLYWOOD

despotic, cruel, unforgiving. But that he was not

perform magic tricks: “The Selig Polyscope com­

the m onster portrayed in such celebrated works

plex was 700 by 600 feet in diameter, shaped

AND THE

Charles Higham, Sidgwick & Jackson, London,

as Lillian Ross’s Picture can be shown by the

like a wedge.” (p. 40). They may also deflate the

1993, 488 pp., hb, rrp $45

unswerving love to be found, even today, in his

apparent seriousness of the discussion at hand,

surviving movie and personal fam ily members. I

as when the murder or suicide of Paul Bern depends on ideas about “pressing the nozzle

R.J.

THOMPSON

hope that, in following the chronicle of a man who, without looks, money or background, rose

I read every word of this book, albeit in short

to become the highest-paid individual in America

spurts: every two or three pages I cursed and

and whose alm ost unbearably over-crowded life

slammed the book shut. That’s how often it

would have destroyed most men long before he

irritates. In between it bores. For most readers,

succumbed, I shall proceed in proving my point,

it will not be time or money well-spent. The

[sic] of a gun to the right of that person’s head” (p. 184). Far too often, the tactics would attract the attention of an AFL umpire: “Her marriage to John Farrow is rocky; he is a bully, a sadist, a fascist” (p. 274); neither evidence nor sources

[p. 3]

standard Louis B. Mayer hagiography, Bosley

are given.

Crowther’s Hollywood Rajah, is at least as good

No prize for spotting this as the guileless and

and more readable. Serious students of the structure and operation of Hollywood studios should go straight to Thomas Schatz’s The Gen­

indecipherable pitch of someone who is not

librarians, archivists, scholars and experts have

levelling with the reader. Where Higham’s ac­

searched libraries, archives, personal papers

So much for the good news. An army of

ius o f the System. Connoisseurs of insiderism

count of Mayer differs from the extant mythol­ ogy, it nearly always varies toward the monstrous,

will find Samuel Marx’s memoir, Mayer and

which will be a comfort to readers who savour

just to list them all) to provide Higham with a mountain of information and some major prob­

Thalberg: The Make-Believe Saints, more effi­

such things. Neither this introductory statement of purpose nor the dust-jacket bio-sketch reveal

for a chronological structure. He chooses, prob­

But I did read it and have earned a bit of a

the author’s frequent (and worse: frequently

ably unwisely, to have the book cover many

whinge. First, the author: Charles Higham. In his

gratuitous) pastime, which is outing (dead) ho­

different large topics: Mayer’s professional life;

cient and digestible than Merchant of Dreams.

and interviews (it takes five pages of close type

lems, the first of which is organization. He opts

biography of Errol Flynn, Higham revealed his

mosexuals (predeceasing Higham may not be a

Mayer’s private life; studio and inter-studio poli­

subject not only as a bisexual but a Nazi spy as

good career move). The first of many such

tics; production operations; some of the films

well; into the bargain, he tossed in a prologue in

occurs on page 20: “she was rumoured to be the

themselves; stars and personalities; and indus­

which he invites us to believe that he was (actu­

lover of alleged murderess Lizzie Borden” . Only

try history - all bound up in a novelistic, unfold­

ally!) visited by Flynn’s ghost, who’s blessed

Borden’s axe is missing.

these revelations. Don’t worry, that’s not his intention here; he spells that out in the introduc­ tion:

Like Louis B. Mayer, the book is not all bad;

ing narrative. The book is unable to do justice to any of them, let alone all of them.

it has charms of which it is apparently unaware.

The greatest of these is its time-machine incar­

dercut by the incessant shifting from one area or

nation of a camp movie-buff style and culture - a mixture of

type of information to another. This grates when persons who died or were fired pages or chap­

idolatry and bitchiness - which

ters ago turn up happy as Larry and still on the

M ER CH A N T OF D R E A M S <p ■ H i iw f

n

//

if '8 \ if if' ||§p | | ■7 /

If I*

Y ‘ ? <w! rr?

existed between Kenneth An­

payroll. Too often, the book is sketchy or elu­

im

ger’s first Holly wood Babylon

sive: when Mayer buys his first studio, we are

Ac j) o

and the onset of large-scale se­ riousness (about films, about

told that he got it “for a very reasonable price” (p.

sexuality) from the 1970s to the

was reasonable? At that time, what were the criteria for evaluating the price of a studio? The

\Y !h Ir^\ ji 1La jft M i M.G.i \{. and. th e secret H ollyw ood

present. The book is a reminder that this world is neither dead nor in remission. It is here in

52 • C I N E M A

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95

38). That’s all? What was the price? Who said it

book is not interested in these questions, let alone the answers.

plain old-fashioned name-drop­

The system of sourcing and citation is chancy

ping: “He managed to hire the celebrated Montreal surgeon

at best and frustrating to use. Bizarre factoids

Dr. Pierre Gareau who had op­

C h a r l e s

The chronological sense of the book is un­

are occasionally thrown away without comment, such as the news that Duncan (the Cisco Kid)

erated recently on the Duchess

Renaldo “has been Robert Flaherty’s assistant

of Connaught” (p. 22), the sin­ gle mention not only of the

on the classics Nanook of the North and Moana” (p. 137); sometimes it’s flat wrong: “an all-black

Duchess but of Connaught In the entire book. A further re­

movie, the first in history, to be entitled Hallelu­ jah” (p. 134). The book says that M.G.M. had

minder is Higham’s constant practice of referring to himself

three updates to that number in following pages

seven “sound stages” in 1923, and adds two or

as “the present author” through­

(p. 67 and on), all listed as “sound stages” , all

out. The style, too, is Homeric

prior to the studio’s shift to sound technology in

in its regular prefixing of indi­

1928. Such things undermine confidence in an

viduals’ names with attribute

author who describes himself as “historian” and

adjectives (both Frances Marion

“scholar” .

and June Mathis are - sepa­ rately - labelled “gypsylike”).

Because of the bitsiness of its continuity, the book underplays potentially strong material,

The adjectives can gang up, as

particularly in the areas ofJVlayer/M.G.M.’s sig­

in “voluble pan-Slavic excl-

nificant investments in other studios and pro-

duction companies (a mirror-motif for the mar­

Mayer’s boyhood screen idol,

riages and other links that knit up the baronial

made his first film in 1914,

families of the studio heads); and Mayer’s pri­

when Mayer was aged 29.

vate money dealings, largely in real estate, and

What I’m criticizing here

the legal troubles (indictments, out-of-court set­

is not only the blunder re film

tlements) that ensued. These are genuinely in­

history, but also the book’s

teresting matters one would like to hear more

thoughtless transmission of

about, but they’re crowded out by repetitive stargazing trivia or strange critical evaluations,

the ersatz in the service of making a myth about Holly­

such as this for B .F.’s Daughter, “the most im­

wood - that it won’t ask why

portant picture M.G.M. has made in years” (p.

374).

someone would present this Hart fiction, or who would

The book wavers between apparent objectiv­

present it, or what it might

ity and self-righteous advocacy in its view of

have been in service of. Gos­

Mayer. Somewhere in the middle of the book,

sip: the bottom line isthatthe

• Mayer is accused of bribing people, a charge

book cannot (and certainly

Higham huffily rejects as unlikely. Higham’s

does not want to) separate

defence fails to immediately convince because

itself from its subject, from

the preceding 150 pages are a crowded inven­

the effects of its fascination,

tory of contract breaking, skimming kickbacks

from its hysterical desire to

off his stars’ salaries, selling more than 100% of

believe. And so the book

a stock issue - a la Mel Brooks’ The Producers

lurches along, in need of an

- a n d then, a la Alan Bond, organizing a financial

editor, a rewrite, some re­

bail-out rescue for which he was later found to

search and correction, but

be in violation of usury laws, so high was the

most of all in need of a con­

“fee” he charged for the favour; blackmail; coer­

ception, an Idea, a thesis - a

cion; participation in manslaughter cover-ups;

purpose.

and dishonesty (you name it: with fearsome regularity, every 75 pages or so, Mayer - while

JEAN-LUC GODARD:

still m arried - o ffe rs yet a no the r sta rle t

SON + IMAGE, 1974-1991

fore Godard the man, is Godard the “rhizome” .

Collected here are just as many Godards as

$1,000,000 or a multiple thereof to marry him;

Edited by Raymond Bellour with Mary Lea

there are contributors, including as many

this may be titillating the first time around but it’s

Bandy, The Museum of Modern Art, New York, 1992, 240 pp., hb, rrp $90

Godards as each contributor can unearth. The

just sad after several repetitions). The present

rhizomatic Godard is simultaneously point of

author one-eyed? After describing a compli­ cated family feud in which Mayer has certainly

JUNIOR

been difficult and manipulative (at best) to his

Jean-Luc Godard: Son + Image, 1974 - 1991 Is

daughter Edie regarding her husband William

a publication that accompanied a retrospective

off from a number of others that precede it, while

Goetz, we get this:

of the same name at The Museum of Modern Art

functioning itself as an intersection for others.”

CAT

departure and point of return. As is said in the Deleuze-inspired essay, “The Declension” by Jean-Louls Leutrat, “Each film appears to branch

They never spoke to each other again. Edie’s

in New York in 1992. The retrospective pre­

1974 to 1991 does not suffice as a period

defection shattered him. She had the effontery

sented all of Godard’s work from Ici et ailleurs in

whose beginning or end is decisively marked.

to say to the present author, ‘All he had to do was

1974 through to Allemagne année 90 neuf zero

There is thus good reason to see the interview

call up and apologize to my husband.’ The only

(Germany, Year Zero) in 1991, which is a period

with Gilles Deleuze - “Three Questions About

person who should have apologized was William

of Godard’s oeuvre little known in the U.S. The

Six Fois Deux” - reprinted for this occasion,

Goetz, [p. 414]

publication is edited by Raymond Bellour (with

originally published in November 1976 in Cahiers

Finally, for all its airs about scholarship and research and history, the informing sensibility of the book is that of gossip - and an unconsidered, unself-conscious form of gossip at that. The book too easily reduces all strata of information to one level of importance, and is then not willing enough to query or to think about what it puts on the table, and so it misses virtually every chance to lift itself into interesting or useful positions.

Case in point: “[M ayer] had a big thrill: his childhood idol, the great cow boy star W illiam S. Hart, arrived, car­ rying Billy the K id’s original revolver” [...] which he presented to Mayer, [p. 163]

Mary Lea Bandy, MOMA’s Film Department Di­

du Cinéma. Indeed, the Deleuze interview can

rector), and here Bellour has collected a smor­

be seen as a ‘crossroads-piece’ for a number of

gasbord of some of the best essays and

the other contributions, particularly the French.

interviews by French and Anglo luminaries of

To follow a chronological line of development

Godard’s work (some revised and reprinted es­

would for these essays and interviews be of only

pecially for this event).

sporadic advantage to the form of their argu­

While the stated understanding of both the

ments. Almost all of the essays actually attempt

retrospective and publication is to consider the

to dig-in closer to Godard’s own method of

incorporation of video and television In Godard’s

working in film. Together, the essays function

work since 1974, the publication actually covers

more like a set of written snapshots or collages.

a period (or periods) greater than the sum of its parts. One overriding sensation when skimming

Life In Seven Episodes (to Date)” , is the only one

Colin McCabe’s essay, “Jean-Luc Godard: A

through several of the essays at random is that

among them to put to use a chronology of sorts.

here is collected a history of cinema - not “a

This essay actually seems to re-work a mid-’80s

cinema” but “the cinema” - where, despite all its

piece by Raymond Durgnat titled “Jean-Luc

The book tells us Mayer was born in 1885,

myriad histories, the necessary point at which

Godard: His C rucifixion and R esurrection”

married in 1904, a father in 1905 and again in

cinema begins (and ends and begins and ends

{Monthly Film Bulletin, September 1985) which

1907. What it does

and so on), even in discussing the cinema be­

divides the life into “seven ages” according to

not

tell us is that Hart,

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 . 53

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$29.95 Paperback

ISBN

ELMER BERNSTEIN • $36.95 UNTIL SEPTEMBER AND STARCRASH* JOHN BARRY • $39.95 PASSION FIS H * VARIOUS • $30

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The Films of Vincente Minnelli

153 TOORAK ROAD • 867 1885 • BOOKS/LPS/CDS/CASSETTES

JAMES NAREMORE

$27.50 Paperback

ISBN

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73-75 DAVIS AVENUE • 866 5877 • 2NDHAND LPS/ CDS/CASS. 366 LYGON STREET CARLTON 347 7473

The Films of Paul M orrisey

269 GLENFERRIE ROAD MALVERN 509 1952 710 GLENFERRIE ROAD HAWTHORN 819 1917

MAURICE YACOW AR

$29.95 Paperback

ISBN

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Already published:

The Films of Roberto Rossellini ISBN

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The Films of W im W enders ROBERT PHILLIP KOLKER and PETER BEICKEN

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ISBN

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The Films of A lfre d Hitchcock ISBN

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The Films of W o o d y A llen SAM B. G1RGUS

$25.00 Paperback

ISBN

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A va n t-G a rd e Film SCOTT M AC D O N A LD

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54 . C I N E M A

PAPERS

95

Boulevard Shopping Centre, Canberra City 2608 Ph: (06) 248 8352 Fax (06) 249 1640

OPEN

D A VID STERRITT

$25.00 Paperback

City Walk, Akuna Street,

SEVEN

DAYS

“emergent” styles and further “slicing” .

detailed, variable and somewhat fragmentary

Leutrat and Alain Bergala’s beautiful essay, “The

Durgnat is careful not to demarcate the peri­

are each of the contributions that it is near

Other Side of the Bouchet”.)

ods too stringently. McCabe’s is similar, yet

impossible to section off parts of the book: some

Perhaps the weak point in this book is the

places greater emphasis on the biographical,

group together, in the next instant break apart,

collection of introductions reprinted from the

w hich reco nstru cts su ccessive phases of

and then re-group with other essays only to

special 1982 edition of Camera Obscura. There

Godard’s life and his changing relationship to

break apart again.

are two reasons for this: one, any revisions

the image. For example, McCabe sees Godard’s

This is a lively and charming publication,

these essays have undergone remain generally

personal relationships with Anna Karina, Anne

theoretical though largely undogmatic, and at

unperceived; and two, there is a tendency to

Wiazemsky and Anne-Marie Mieville account­

times obsessively philosophical. The importance

skip over material one is already familiar with.

ing for different approaches to the cinema.

of Jean-Luc Godard: Son + Image lies in this mix

This very minor quibble aside, it is difficult to

McCabe’s division of biographical details into

of discontinuous, fragmentary voices, but voices

think of a better publication on Godard, and, if one can, then it could not compete with the

seven episodes is intriguing, but his concrete

that are continuously modifing, displacing, co­

view of the life has a tendency to commandeer

mingling with one another. Understandably, this

production values invested into this one, espe­

stylistic cross-overs between periods as well as

is characterized to be the hallmark of a Godardian

cially in regard to the section of frame enlarge­

quashing influences that are not decidedly per­

style. To take a small example, talk has it that

ments - mostly in colour - which grace the

sonal. The reader is never quite convinced of the

publicity for Godard’s latest film with Gérard

middle pages.

value of an episode-by-episode approach. Thus,

Depardieu, Hélas, pour moi {Alas, for me), an­

Finally, special note should be given to

it would be wise of the reader to take heed in the words, once again, of Leutrat:

nounces: GodardDepardieu - modifing, dis­ placing, co-mingling.

Jonathan Rosenbaum’s “Eight Obstacles to the

[..] we are well aw are that the dates we propose

These essays cross each other’s borders as

the simple reason that it provide parallels and

to mark the passage from one period to another

well as crossing borders between critique and

comparisons with local audience reception of

are accom m odations that we have allow ed our­

auto-critique, History and (personal) history, life

Godard’s recent films. For Rosenbaum, it has

selves; that more rigorous, or different, criteria

and fiction, film and literature, and painting and

been a sorry state of affairs. Nonetheless, in just

would result in a different breakdown; and that

photography and video, and so forth. To provide

th inking of p a rtic u la r m om ents in M artin

the very identity of the periods, their unity and

an inventory of just such border-hopping is an­

Scorsese’s Mean Streets right through to With

coherence, is an invention after the fact. [p. 23]

Appreciation of Godard in the United States” for

other near impossible task, yet each demon­

Time to Kill by local filmmaker James Clayden,

The same is true in attempting to allocate for

strate intense interpretative skills as they shuttle

Godard’s influence is undeniable. This book is a

two or more of the essays useful categories or

between the 1960s and ’80s and the periods in

testament to Godard’s influence over much of

labels under which to characterize them.

between. (On this last point, see especially

world cinema.

So

B O O K S

R E C E I V E D

COMPILED BY RAFFAELE CAPUTO AND R. J. THOMPSON

FILM AND TELEVISION ACTING

cross-overs forfilm production, especially in the

The following titles in the Cambridge Film Clas­

Jan Bernard, Focal Press, Boston-London, 1993,

areas of safety principles and legislation. It is

sics series are coming up for review in subse­

135 pp., pb, rrp $39.95

aimed at workers already in the industry and

quent issues of Cinema Papers.

Film and Television Acting takes a close look at the essential differences between theatre, film and television acting. While it is assumed the same principles would apply for each medium, subtle variations in technique can make an enor­ mous difference in performances, especially between live and recorded mediums. The book

new entrants who need to know about the dan­ gers inherent in their work. Like other Focal Press publications, its coverage of the field is comprehensive.

VIDEOTAPE EDITING: A POSTPRODUCTION PRIMER

lines fordeveloping believable performances for

Steven E. Browne, Focal Press, BostonLondon, 1993, 300 pp., pb, rrp $69

film and television. It contains a Foreword by

Video technology is continually changing, yet

Jack Lemmon and calls on the experiences of

none of the technological advances have al­

provides theatre-trained students solid guide­

AVANT-GARDE FILM: M OTION STUDIES Scott McDonald, Cambridge University Press, New York, 1993, 199 pp., rrp $29.95 (pb), $95 (hb)

THE FILMS OF ALFRED HITCHCOCK David Sterritt, Cambridge University Press, New York, 1993, 165 pp., rrp $25 (pb), $90 (hb)

THE FILMS OF ROBERTO ROSSELLINI Peter Bondanella, Cambridge University Press, New York, 1993, 183 pp.,

directors Norman Jewison and Glenn Jordan,

tered the overall concepts of video editing. The

and actors Louise Latham and Don Murray.

key to understanding different types of equip­

A PRODUCTION HANDBOOK: A GUIDE TO THE PITFALLS OF PROGRAMME MAKING

ment and technology is the ability to understand

THE FILMS OF W OODY ALLEN

the basic concepts and how they relate to each other.

Sam B. Girgus, Cambridge University Press,

Peter Jarvis, Focal Press, Great Britain, 1993, 139 pp., pb, rrp $54.95

This an updated and expanded second edi­ tion provides the novice and professional alike with a basic understanding of the video post­

This book centres on location shooting and the

production process.

rrp $29.95 (pb), $95 (hb)

New York, 1993, 146 pp., rrp $25 (pb), $80 (hb) The series of Cambridge University Film Clas­ sics seeks to provide a forum for revisionist

problems that can arise if the programme-maker

studies, of what are considered to be classic

is unaware of particular procedures to be fol­

works of cinema. Each volume provides a gen­ eral introduction to the life and work of a particu­

lowed in the management of a production. This is a very useful A-to-Z of dicey organizational

VIDEO PRODUCTION HANDBOOK Gerald Millerson, Focal Press, Great Britian, 1992, 245 pp., pb, rrp $79

and legal matters likely to be encountered in location shooting.

SAFETY IN LIVE PERFORMANCE Edited by George Thompson, Focal Press,

lar director or, in some cases a genre, followed by critical essays on several of the director’s

A clear and comprehensive addition to books

most important films. Includes filmographies.

which outline basic video-making techniques. It

The series seems to have a long range plan with further titles coming up for release in Octo­

is full of information about camera and audio equipment, lighting principles, shooting tech­

ber. These include: TheFilm sofD . W. Griffithby

Great Britain, 1993, 240 pp., pb, rrp $54

niques and editing procedures. A highly-techni-

Scott Simon; The Films of Joseph Losey by

Even though this book is directly related to live

cal book but still useful for film-production

James Palmer and Michael Riley; The Films of

performances such as concerts, there are still

courses, let alone the professional.

Paul Morrissey by Maurice Yacowar; and finally CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 • 55

The Films o f Vincente M innelli by James Naremore; Also released by Cambridge University Press are new and reprinted editions which are part of The Cambridge Studies in Film series. The fol­ lowing titles are up for review as well:

ART & ARTISTS O N SCREEN John A. Walker, Manchester University Press,

University Press, New York, 281 pp.,

ABORIGINALITY AND GENDER

hb, rrp $99

Karen Jennings, Australian Film Institute,

initiative in monograph publications. Karen

Edited by Brian McFarlane, Salisbury State

Jennings examines a range of features, docu­

University, 1993, 169 pp., pb, rrp $12

mentaries and experimental films which focus substantially on Aboriginal women. A review will

The current issue of Literature/Film Quarterly is a special issue on “The Australian Cinema”

Manchester-New York, 1993, 226 pp., pb, rrp $35

edited by Brian McFarlane, a regular contributor

CONSTRUCTIVISM IN FILM: THE MAN WITH A MOVIE CAMERA, A CINEMATIC ANALYSIS

Edited by Robyn Karney, Bloomsbury,

THE MEDIA IN AUSTRALIA: INDUSTRIES, TEXTS, AUDIENCES

Press, Manchester-New York, 193 pp.,

Edited by Stuart Cunningham and Graeme

pb rrp $39.95

Turner, Allen & Unwin, St. Leonards, 1993,

This A-to-Z of “actors and directors in Holly­ wood” is a mine of information. It was written by eleven journalists “dedicated to film” , and edited

by Robyn Karney, who clearly had a tough time choosing who to fit in - the Introduction apolo­ gizes for several omissions (James Foley and Steve Buscemi, to name but two).

From an Australian viewpoint, the slim selec­ tion of local-bred talent is puzzling: no George

414 pp., pb, rrp $29.95

INNOVATION IN ETHNOGRAPHIC FILM: FROM INNOCENCE TO SELF-CONSCIOUSNESS, 1955-1985

NEW MEDIA TECHNOLOGIES (TAKING CARE OF BUSINESS SERIES)

Peter Loizos, Manchester University Press,

Edited by Ross Harley, Australian Film,

Manchester, 224 pp., pb, rrp $39.95

Television and Radio School, North Ryde, 1993, 177pp., pb, rrp $18

Edited by Andrew Horton, Cambridge Univer­

The above titles arrived too late for review in this issue; reviews will appear in future issues of

sity Press, New York, 171 pp., hb, rrp $95

Cinema Papers.

MELODRAMA AND ASIAN CINEMA

SITES OF DIFFERENCE: CINEMATIC REPRESENTATION OF

Edited by Wimal Dissanayake, Cambridge

W HO’S WHO IN HOLLYWOOD London, 1993, 499 pp., pb, rrp $49.95

Peter Hutchings, Manchester University

INSIDE SOVIET CINEMA: LAUGHTER WITH A LASH

be published in our next issue..

books on Australian cinema. Included are es­

Mortimer, Stephen Crofts and McFarlane. It will be reviewed in the next issue of Cinema Papers.

HAMMER AND BEYOND: THE BRITISH HORROR FILM

Sites of Difference launches the AFI’s current

to Cinema Papers and the author of several says by Bruce Molloy, Graeme Turner, Geoff Mayer, Rose Lucas, Ina Bertrand, Lorraine

Vlada Petrie, Cambridge University Press, New York, 1993, 325 pp., pb, rrp $45

South Melbourne, 1993, 8 7 pp., pb, rrp $14.95

LITERATURE/FILM QUARTERLY: THE AUSTRALIAN CINEMA (VOLUME 21, NO. 2, 1993)

Miller (what does a director have to do?) and no Phil Noyce, even though he recently made two A pictures in Hollywood. Fred Schepisi makes it, but not Gillian Armstrong or Simon Wincer. Mel, of course, breezes in, but not Judy Davis!

So, while Aussie spotters will be disappointed, others will enjoy the resplendence of birthday entries, the varied details interspersed in the text (Drew Barrymore was actually christened Andrew!) and filmographies (Schepisi’s, forone, is accurate). Pity, though, about the price. S.M.

Level 1,33 Berry Street, North Sydney 2060 Telephone (02) 954 1477 Facsimile (02) 954 1585 c

i

n

e

s

u

r

e

P. O. Box 1155 North Sydney 2059

A u s tra lia ’s lea d in g Film and T V In su ra n ce U n d erw ritin g A g e n c y W e S p e c ia lis e in In su ran ce for:

■ ■ ■ ■ ■

Film Producers Indemnity (Cast) Negatives and Videotapes Errors and Omissions Additional Expenses Props, Cameras, Lighting, Sound Equipment

John Hennings G r a h a m Butt Michael W o o d w a r d M e g a n O fRiley ACN: 007 698 062

56 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

95

Australian Film 19 7 8 -1 9 9 2 Edited by SC O T T M URRAY

T

his essential reference book docu­ m ents and analyses all th e th eat­

S

c o tt Murray - him self a prom inent writer on film - has com missioned

ric a lly -re le a se d A u s tra lia n featu re

su ccin ct articles on all th e films o f the

films from 1 9 7 8 -1 9 9 2 . O v er 3 5 0 stills

past fiftee n years from excep tio n al

illustrate the text, w hich covers every

writers such as K eith C onolly, Phillipa

aspect o f production, financing, cast­

H aw ker and A d ria n M a rtin . T h e

ing and even the critics reactions to

detail and accuracy o f each article is

the films.

extrem ely impressive.

A

ustralian Film 1978-1992 co m ­ p r e h e n s iv e ly an d a c c u r a te ly

A

ustralian Film 1978-1992 h a s b een produced w ith the assis­

records each film ’s tech n ical and cast

tance o f th e A ustralian Film C om m is­

cred its. C a rry in g on th e sp irit o f

sion.

Andrew Pike and Ross C oop er’s pio­ neerin g Australian Film 1900-1977,

A" Essential referen ce for all those

interested in film

this book will becom e th e essential reference work o f this period.

"Ar Thirty leading film writers exam­ ine more than 3 0 0 films A t E a ch film is illustrated by at least

one still image

5 C O T T M URRAY is a film -m aker and th e editor of Cinema Papers .

C

ontributors

include

K eith

C onn olly - longtim e film critic

for the M elbourne Herald, now with the Sunday Age - G eo ff Gardner, Paul

A b ov e: Paul Mecu rio an d G ia C arides in the com edy d ram a Strictly Ballroom Right: Jo h n Ingram (S am N iell) an d his w ife R ae ( N icole K idm an ) in the suspence thriller D ead C alm

Available November From

OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS Paperback ★ 280 x 210 mm ★ 352 pp 0 19 553584 7 ★ 350 b/w photographs

$ 39.95 CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 • 57

S O U ND T R A C K S IVAN

HUTCH IN S ON

wide variety of releases and imports this month. Works of real originality which stand on their own, away from the images they were written to accompany, are rare as ever, but those to whom the word “nostalgia” means some­ thing are well served and there are plenty of entertaining discs.

CLIFFHANGER (SCO TTI BROS. 72392 75415-2) The mountain scenery in this action adventure is certainly spellbinding which is perhaps why composerTrevor Jones consciously or unconsciously quoted the opening of Miklos Rozsa’s well-re­ membered theme for Spellbound as the opening of his major theme for this film. This is a pity really, since it takes away from the rather majes­ tic and certainly appropriate mood Jones pre­ sumably had in mind. He tends also to use the same distinctive opening notes for a lot of the variations employed throughout the movie, so one expects at any moment that Peck and Bergman may ski up to Sly Stallone and give him their advice on getting rid of the villains.

This overall, is a big score, well orchestrated and performed with enthusiasm by the London Philharmonic, but one frankly forthe traditional­ ists - and maybe for those who don't know the Spellbound theme!

THE TEMP

(VARESE SARABANDE VSD-5410)

The reviews forthis movie were of the kind which makes producers shudder. The Temp is almost certain to be on video shelves before you can repeat the adjectives used to describe it, the kindest being “derivative” and “pointless” . It is an attempt, presumably, at a thriller of the Basic Instinct- and Hand That Rocked The Cradletype. The music by a new name to me, Frederic Talgorn, is competent, smoothly romantic with sinister undertones as befits a story in which the

FREE WILLY (EPIC SO UNDTR AX EK57280)

trators (Arthur Morton and Alexander Courage)

directorSimon Wincer’s boy-meets-whale movie,

and his equally fine musicians bring out all the

but make no mistake - the record is being sold on the music of Michael Jackson, NRTOB, Funky Poets and others, with the emphasis on “Will

humourand ingenuity of the score. Special credit - richly deserved - is given to the tuba and harm onica soloists (Jim Self and Tommy Morgan), who get a good work-out. Goldsmith

good-looking “temp” (Lara Flynn Boyle) at a firm in Portland climbs her way up the corporate

You Be There”, a rhythmical, sentimental and

ladder leaving dead executives in her wake.

spectacularly engineered tune performed and

That curious instrument called the Ondes

written by Jackson and heard twice on the disc.

Martenot gets a work-out on some tracks (“Main Title” and “Masturbation”(!) for example), which

This is sub-titled “Theme from Free Willy”,

adds to a slight eeriness to the proceedings, but

but you have to get to Track 6 before the “Main Title” by Basil pops up. When it does, it’s worth

the themes are not particularly distinguished.

waiting for. A big orchestra, a wordless chorus,

THE FIRM (MCA/GRP M GD 2007)

plenty of percussion, and, even though the ac­

The Dave Grusin score on disc contains much that wasn’t featured in the film , but if you’re a fan of Grusin’s piano playing you won’t mind a bit.

Without being able to check, even the track labelled “Main Title” doesn’t bring the film to mind even though, like the film score, it’s piano much of the time. Forget the film perhaps and just have a listen to “The Plan” (Track 9), “Blues: The Death of Love and Trust” (Track 10) and

Cartoonish in style as befits the sort of movie it accompanies, Goldsmith, his superb orches-

Basil Poledouris gets the credit on the CD cover for composing and conducting the music for

tual theme lacks real grandeur, Poledouris and his orchestrator (Greig McRichie) have come up with some evocative sounds, redolent of sea­ scapes, as the music surges and swirls. Lots of variety and synthesizers are effectively blended and used. Overall, this should please anyone looking for a memento of a film which, by all accounts, exceeded expectations.

DENNIS THE MENACE

has written scores of far more intrinsic interest than this, but there seems no diminution in his enthusiasm and musical ability to write appropri­ ately for whatever is offered him - the mark of a true professional. However, surely only those who collect Goldsmith will want this record.

Admirers of the movie will get all they want from the video.

RICH IN LOVE (VARESE SARABANDE VSD-5370) This film was the last for Georges Delerue who died of a stroke after having just finished record­ ing the score. Delerue, who had been writing finely-crafted and inventive scores for decades, made his name with François Truffaut and ended his career with Bruce Beresford, who has written

particularly “How Could You Lose Me” (Track

(BIG SCREEN RECORDS 924514-2)

a loving tribute to him in the notes accompany­ ing the disc.

13) and you’ll know whether this is for you.

Added tracks on the disc include songs per­

Just the titles on this CD are enough to put one off seeing the movie (“Fun With False Teeth”

Delerue had worked with Beresford on Crimes of the Heart, Her Alibi, Mister Johnson and Black

formed by Lyle Lovett and Jimmy Buffett, and a rocking blues by Robben Ford called “Start It

and “Wanna See My Sling Shot”, for example).

Nevertheless, this is a Jerry Goldsmith score,

Robe prior to this, and, though the film created tittle interest, Delerue’s music is charming. Solo

Up” (Track 11).

and can’t help being extremely well crafted.

interests are featured, andjjjf you’re nota Delerue

58 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

95

collector, try “Stop Thinking About Her” (Track 5

melodic, sometimes jazz-flavoured dramatic

RESERVOIR DOGS

guitar and strings) or “Time To Move On” (Track

scores accompanied some big films. Kings Go

This is a great sounding disc of songs, mainly of

(M CA M CD10541)

9, cello, flute and strings). If these don’t appeal,

Forth (1958) and Some Came Running (1959)

the ’70s, many introduced by the most spaced-

then his music is not for you, but they’re very

both starred Frank Sinatra. Neither are great

out or laid-back disc jockey you’ve ever heard.

lovely sounds just the same.

movies, but the scores are good examples of his work, with Some Came Running having the edge.

“Little Green Bag”, “Hooked On A Feeling” ,

Kings Go Forth is a wartime love story set in

“Coconut” are among the tracks, but the use of “Stuck In The Middle With You” during the ear­

Italy in the ’40s. The music is by turn military,

slicing sequence will ensure that you’ll never seem quite the same about that song again. The

written the score for Clint Eastwood’s new thriller about a Secret Service agent intent on redeem­

pastoral and romantic, but somehow the mate­ rial doesn’t seem to have inspired Bernstein to give his best. Tracks 5 and 6, however, are very

ing himself. Morricone has written some marvel­ lous scores, butthis isn’t particularly memorable.

sequence, an analysis by members of the “dogs” of Madonna’s “Like A Virgin” which won’t be

Some Came Running, with its wide variety of

IN THE LINE OF FIRE (EPIC SO UN D TR AX EK57307)

Another composer with more movie credits than one can name is Ennio Morricone, who has

It sounds as if it would work well enough in the cinema, but as a listening experience it seems too tied in to the action to make much sense away from the visuals. Morricone always writes a pretty good romantic theme, though, so try Tracks 2,11 and 21, where “Lilly and Frank” gets a good work-out.

THEMES FROM CLASSIC SCIENCE FICTION, FANTASY AND HORROR FILMS (VARESE SARABANDE, VSD5407) Thethem escom e mainlyfrom Universal movies

attractively played and melodically appealing. themes and styles, is one of Bernstein’s best

disc also includes part of the opening dialogue

heard on local radio unless attitudes change and broaden considerably.

efforts. Bluesy, jazzy at times (“Ginny’s Theme”,

More dialogue excerpts on discs of movie

Track 21), romantic in the best ’50s Hollywood

soundtracks could only improve sales, inciden­

manner (“Gwen’s Theme”, Track 20), the score

tally, although costs would be prohibitive, one

gives its cardboard characters some depth. The

presumes.

pursuit music (Track 28) is a good example of Bernstein at his most angular and agitated, com­

THE PIANO (VIRGIN CDVE919)

bining themes and propelling the whole thing along with steadily increasing excitement as its hero is pursued by a vengeful enemy through Mardi Gras crowds.

You wouldn’t get much dialogue from Holly Hunter in The Piano since she’s a mute. The Michael Nyman score for that film doesn’t leave much roomfordialogueanyhow. It’sagenerous CD with a lot more music than actually is heard

of the 1950s ( Tarantula, Creature From the Black Lagoon, This Island Earth, etc.) and the

Let’s finish this round-up with genuinely con­

in Jane Campion’s film. Nyman’s work here has

trasting movie soundtracks.

a wider appeal than his m usic for Peter

disc itself is a re-issue of an old Coral Records

SLEEPLESS IN SEATTLE (EPIC 473594 2)

Greenaway’s films, for example. Although there

LP. The arrangements of the music by Henry Mancini, Hans J. Salter and others are by the

The “chick’s” movie everyone seems to enjoy has an eclectic collection of singers and tunes to

conductor Dick Jacobs, and, as a whole, don’t

help tell its story. Jimmy Durante, of all people,

sound all that interesting by themselves. They

sets the scene and ends it as well with inimitable

give a fair representation of the sounds, but the

versions of “As Time Goes By” and “Make Some­

excitement is decidedly missing - butthen, so is much of the excitement from the films them­

one Happy” , while Nat Cole sings “Stardust” and Joe Cocker “Bye Bye Blackbird” . Carly Simon’s

selves! Recording isa b ito n th e th in sid e , but the liner notes are good and comprehensive.

“Wee Small Hours of the Morning” is worth the price of the disc alone, in my opinion.

Two Elmer Bernstein scores from the 1950s are re-issued on CD (CNR CNS5004) and are of

Reservoir Dogs and The Piano could hardly be more different in style and content if they tried -

considerable interest. Bernstein is back working

and that includes the music that accompanies

regularly after a time in the ’70s, when he seemed to have had few commissions. In the ’50s, he

the images. Both are highly successful movies

was particularly active, and his often strongly

again for different reasons.

and the music in both is memorable, though

are some tracks which seem to waffle about without much purpose, his Gaelic-flavoured theme associated with Ada is quite haunting, whether as a piano solo (Track 4) or arranged for a larger orchestra.

Track 12 (“Lost and Found”) is another com­ pelling track and the final “Dreams Of A Jour­ ney” (Track 19) is Nyman at his individual best.

Some tracks end abruptly, but this should not bother too much those who loved the film and appreciate Nyman’s work for it. Nyman’s own notes on the composition of the music are in­ structive.

NB: As usual, many thanks to readings for supplying the CDs for review.

A u s t r a l i a ’s F ir s t F ilm s coHT,HU£»t,o, Two weeks later, The Sydney Morning H erald advertised the Polytechnic’s surviving equipment for sale by auction.49It included the Edison and Wrench projectors, two kinetoscopes, a movie camera and two hundred films. Some of it went on to be advertised in the “special lines” section of Australasian Photographic R eview during June, July and August 1899.

From 28 March 1899, the Polytechnic re-opened with a Great Spanish Bullfight film50, but attendances were poor and it closed when Blow’s lease expired on 30 April 1899.51 Eighteen months later, St. Hill and Moodie opened a New Polytechnic in George Street, but without Blow’s technical support they produced no local film. Mark Blow didn’t resume production until May 190152, when the Royal Visit for the first opening of Federal Parliament provided an event worthy of coverage. One of our coming instalments dealing with film of Austral­ ian Federation will cover this effort.

With the demise of Blow’s Polytechnic early in 1899, Sydney production ground to a standstill for almost two years.

listed in The Sydney Morning H erald advertisements, so there may be some omissions.

' s p o l y t e c h n ic f il m o g r a p h y None of these films, which were from one to three minutes in length, are known to survive. Film programmes were not always rigorously

(5) A Cruise Around the “Miowera”

b l o w

(1) Bondi Bathers Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 2 March 1897, p. 2. Probably a re-titled foreign film.

(2) Congregation Leaving Grace Church, Easter Sunday (1897) Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 24 July 1897, p. 2. Probably not an Australian film.

(3) S.S. “Miowera” with NSW Premier G. H. Reid Arriving in Sydney Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 13 September 1897, p. 2.

Premier Reid returning from England, where he took part in Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee Procession.

(4) Randwick Races Refer Australasian Photographic Review, 21 September 1897, p.

23.

Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 23 September 1897, p. 3. May be the same film as (3).

CINEMA

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9 5 • 59

(6) M aypole D ance, Public Schools’ C arnival A gricultural Showgrounds, Sydney

Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 25 September 1897, p. 2. Shot 18 September 1897.

(7) (a) Start and Finish of 1 8 9 7 Melbourne Cup (b) The Winner, “Gaulus’, Being Led to the Starting Gate (c) Crowds on the Lawns at Flemington Refer The Sydney M orning H erald, 4 November 1897, p. 2.

Premiered in Sydney on the evening of the day after the race, 3 November 1897. Other versions of this event were shot by E. J. Thwaites and A. J. Perier.

(8) Sydney Wheel Race

Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 6 November 1897, p. 2. Bicycle race held at the Agricultural Grounds, Moore Park, won by W. J. Elliott. Shot at 4:30 pm, 6 November 1897, exhibited at 10:30 pm the same night. Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 November 1897, p. 2.

(9) Arrival of Special Melbourne Cup Train at Flemington Station Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 9 November 1897, p. 2. Added to Melbourne Cup film set.

(10) Breakers at Bondi

Refer T he Sydney Morning H erald, 11 December 1897, p.2.Taken 10 December 1897.

(11) Breakers at the Bogey Hole, Coogee

Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 13 December 1897 p. 2.

Advertized for sale in Australasian Photographic Review, 24 August 1899, length 75 feet, price £ l.

(12) Scenes of First Test M atch N.S.W. versus England

Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 24 January 1898, p. 2. Shot at Sydney Cricket Ground.

(13) Australians Leaving the Field During the First Test Match, England vs. Aust.

Refer T he Sydney Morning Herald, 1 February 1898, p. 2. Passing views of Messrs Darling, Iredale, McLeod, Hill, Gregory, Trumble, Lyons, Trott, Kelly, Jones and McKibbin. Shot at Sydney Cricket Ground (could be the Barnett film, qw.)

(14) The Two English Batsmen, Ranjitsinhji and McLaren Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 1 February 1898, p. 2. Included views of umpires going off the field. Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 5 February 1898, p. 12. (Possibly Barnett’s film.)

(15) Departure of S.S. “Ophir” for England

Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 4 February 1898, p. 2.

(16) Fort Street School, Church Hill Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 8 February 1898, p. 2. Showed the children coming out of the school at midday. Refer also The Sydney Morning Herald, 15 February 1898, p. 2.

(17) Ferry Landing Passengers At Milson’s Point

Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 19 February 1898, p. 2. Shot at 10 am, 18 February 1898.

(18) Sea Taken from R.M .S. “ Ormuz” in mid-Ocean

Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 19 February 1898, p. 2. Taken

by Blow down the side of the liner.

(19) George Street, Opposite Redfern Railway Station

Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 19 February 1898, p. 2. A film advertised in Australasian Photographic Review, 24 August 1899, as “Broadway at Post Office” may be this film. Length 150 feet, offered for 10/-.

(20) George Street, in front of New Markets Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 19 February 1898, p. 2.

60 • C I N E M A

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(21) Governor Brassey Crossing Princes Bridge, Melbourne Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 19 Feb. 1898, p.2.

(22) Hon. G. H. Reid with His Colonial Escort Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 19 February, 1 8 9 8 ,p.2. Could be the film advertised in Australasian P hotographic Review in August 1899 as “Carriage Leaving Mansion”, 50 feet, price 10/. Could be part of London Jubilee Procession film. ' 5 (23) Bent Street Tram Terminus Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 24 February 1898, p. 2.

Advertised in Australasian Photographic R eview , 24 June 1899, length 75 feet, price 10/-.

(24) Northern Mail Arriving at Strathfield Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 24 February 1898, p. 2.

(25) Employees Leaving Government Printing Office, Sydney Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 25 February 1898, p. 2. Shot at 1 pm, 24 February 1898. Refer also The Sydney Morning H erald, 26 February 1898, p. 2.

(26) Passengers Leaving Redfern Station Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 26 February 1898, p. 2. Shot at 8:10 am, 25 February 1898.

(27) East Sydney Rowing Club Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 8 March 1898, p. 2. Shot 5 March 1898.

(28) M ort’s Dock Employees Going to the Pay Box Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 22 March 1898, p. 2. Shot 19 March 1898.

(29) Platelayers on the Tram Line, Elizabeth Street, Sydney Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 26 March 1898, p. 2.

(30) Divers at Farmer’s Baths Sydney Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 21 April 1898, p. 2. Included Cavill, Farmer, Lane, Reid, Little and Norman.

(31) The Wreck of the “Hereward” Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 9 May 1898, p. 2. Shot at Maroubra beach, where this square rigger had run aground.

Advertised for sale in Australasian Photographic Review, 24 June 1899. Film length 75 feet, offered at 10/-.

(32) Queen’s Birthday Review at Centennial Park Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 25 May 1898, p. 2. A long film taken on 24 May 1898, probably in one continuous shot of the passing troops reviewing before Governor Hampden. Troops . shown included Permanent Artillery, 1st and 2nd Regiments, Scottish and Irish Rifles, Naval Brigade and New South Wales Lancers. Advertised for sale in Australasian Photographic Review, 24 June 1899, length 150 feet, sale price 30/-.

(33) Club-Swinging by Mr. Renshaw and his Pupils Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 26 May 1898, p. 2.

(34) N.S.W. Governor and his Escort Going to the Opening of NSW Parliament Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 23 June 1898, p. 2.

(35) Sydney Public Schools Carnival Refer The Sydney Morning H erald, 17 September 1898, p. 2.

Showed children at this sporting carnival, shot 16 September 1898. The event was covered in two films. Refer The Sydney Morning Herald, 19 September 1898, p. 3 (36) (A) Arrival of the Governor, Lord Hampden, at Sydney Metro­ politan Fire Brigade (B) Gallop Past of the Sydney Fire Brigade (C) Brigade Practice - General Turn-Out

—~

Refer The Sydney Morning H eraid, 21 September 1898, p. 2. Shot

same day, in CaStlereagh Street, Sydney. Detail in The Sydney M orning H erald, i October1898, p. 2. These are probably the films advertised in;Australasian P hotographic Review , 24 June 1899, as:

10 Royal Commission on the Moving Picture Industry, Proceedings, 19 October 1 927, at Sydney, p. 809, submission by Albert Oscar Segerberg.

11 Colonel Lumare (probably a pseudonym) acquired the “Cinématographe Perfectionné” originally imported by Gustave Neymark, probably the first

(1) The Fire Brigade at Work (50 feet)

projector landed in Australia. He toured Northern Victoria with it JanuaryMarch 1897 before purchasing Thwaites’ films for the Tasmanian tour

(2) Rescuing Children (50 feet, available with the above for £2)

during March-June 1897. He returned to Victoria on 19 June with shows

(3) Start of Fire Brigade (50 feet, £ l)

at Ballarat. His last known show was at Castlemaine, 23 August 1897. A.

(37) Arrival of S.S. Manly at Manly

J. Pipon, the Paris optician whose projector Lumare used, first demon­ strated it in Paris under the name of the “Cinégraphoscope” on 2 March

Refer T he Sydney M orning H erald, 29 September 1898, p. 2.

(38) Children Playing on the Sands at Manly

Refer T he Sydney M orning H erald, 29 September 1898, p. 2.

It is iquite possible that some of these films might survive. Apart from the sale after the Polytechnic fire, Blow was advertising these films for sale to independent exhibitors from 27 April 1898 through The Sydney M orning Herald.

1896.

12 The Examiner, Launceston, 17 March 1897. Mercury, Hobart, 28 April 1897, p.3.

13 The Australasian, 2 7 March 1897, p. 619.

14 Victorian Colonial Patent 141 2 8 , Provisional Specification, 2 7 April 1897.

15 Charles Musser, loc. cit., p.145 et seq.

16 The cover of the flip-book has a printed identification stating its title and the maker of the film.

17 Ballarat Star, 22 June 1897, pp. 2, 3.

18 Ibid., 26 June 1 897, pp. 2, 3. Ballarat Courier, 2 6 June 1897, p. 5.

• • • Our next issue highlights the Queensland film producers of the 1890s: G. Boivin (1897), Professor A. C. Haddon (1898), Fred Wills and Harold Mobsby (1899). We will investigate the largest surviving collection of Australian colonial film, still awaiting a public premiere promised 94 years ago!

ACKN O W LED G EM EN TS First and foremost, my thanks go to Pat Laughren and the staff of Griffith University for funding and supporting the Queensland Vintage Film Project, from which this Australia-wide project grew.

For the information on E. J. Thwaites, I am particularly indebted to his daughters, Beth Clark (Melbourne) and Doreen Maxwell (Peregian Beach).

Peter Burgis of Port Macquarie provided the initial contact.

The National Film & Sound Archive’s Melbourne Office was exceptionally helpful in expediting access to films and documentation. I should particularly mention the assistance of Ken Berryman and Meg Labrum in the context of this instalment.

Further information and/or corrections to the mss were provided by Clive Sowry (Wellington, New Zealand), John Barnes (England), Allan Davies (Sydney), Judy Adamson (Sydney), Graham Shirley (Sydney) and Gael Newton (Canberra).

George Ellis of the Salvation Army Archives, Ian MacFarlane of the Victorian Public Records Office and Tony Marshall of the W. L. Crowther Library in Hobart all made vital contributions to the work. Phil Grace (Melbourne) was constantly helpful with information on equipment and processing technology.

The newspaper staff of the State Libraries in Queensland, New South Wales, Victoria, Tasmania and South Australia provided the core of my data base.

Lastly my thanks go to Prudence Speed (to become Mrs. Prue Long on 7 November) for her constant support, encouragement and empathy.

19 Albury Daily News, 24 September 1897, p. 2. Euroa Advertiser, 17 September 1897, p. 2.

20 Argus, 20 September 1897, p. 7.

21 Ibid., 16 October 1897, p. 8.

22 Leader, 23 October 1897, p. 22.

23 The Sydney Morning Herald, 9 June 1922, p. 9: “The Kinema - Early Exhibitions”.

24 Ballarat Star, 9 November 1897, p. 3.

25 Argus, 20 August 1898, p. 16.

26 Ibid.

2 7 Everyones, 13 June 1 9 2 3 ,p. 38: “AnotherPioneerofthe Movies”. Ibid., 15 December 1926, p. 126. Several Bond projectors are held in a Melbourne private collection.

28 Alex Gunn: Catalogue and Supplement o f Apparatus, Dissolving Views etc.. Copy held by Ian MacFarlane, Public Records Office, Laverton, Victoria. Date of receipt of catalogue by Victorian Government is listed on 29

front cover as July 1898.

Unidentified clipping held by Thwaites’ daughter, the late Doreen Maxwell.

30 Telephone conversation with Beth Clark, 1989.

31 Registration of company name in Public Records Office, Laverton, Victo­ ria.

32 Obituary clippings held by Doreen Maxwell, including Argus, 13 July 1933.

33 British Public Records Office: Photographic Copyright Registrations, File 1/434: Cinematograph films by Walter Barnett (four items), registered 1 February 1898.

34 Jack Cato, The Story o f the Camera in Australia, Institute of Australian Photographers, Melbourne, 1979 (third edition).

35 A. J. Perier, “Some Comments on Jack Cato’s Professional Photographic Story ofthe Camera in Australia” , unpublished manuscript, c.1956, in the Keast Burke papers held by Gael Newton, National Gallery, Canberra.

36 Australian Photographic Journal, 20 March 1900, p. 54.

37 Alan Davies and Peter Stanbury, The Mechanical Eye in Australia, Oxford

Notes

University Press, Melbourne, 1985, pp. 88, 104 .

38 Australasian Photographic Review, 21 Febuary 1898, p. 27. Australian

1

Tasmanian EveningNew s (Hobart), 24 December 1906, p. 4; 29 December

2

1906, p. 5.

War Cry (Melbourne), 6 August 1904, p. 12. Newcastle Herald, 15 Au­ gust 1904 (the film was shot in North Queensland). Northern Miner

40 Australasian Photographic Review, 20 March 1897, p. 24.

3

(Charters Towers), 4 November 1904.

Argus (Melbourne), 9 March 1901, p. 15; 11 March 1901; 15 March 1901;

Newton Abbot, England, 1976, pp. 137-41.

42 Australasian Photographic Review, 20 March 1897, p. 24. Salvation Army

29 March 1901.

South Australian Register (Adelaide), 20 December 1898. War Cry, 1 July

Archives, Melbourne: catalogue of slides of South Australian Limelight

4 5 6

1899, p. 3.

Mark Blow, actively producing in Sydney, August 1897 to March 1899.

The Salvation Army federation coverage was recently restored and released

7

8

9

Photographic Journal, 20 March 1900, p. 54.

39 The Sydney M orning Herald, 2 March 1 897 p. 2.

41 John Barnes, The Beginnings ofthe Cinema in England, David Sc Charles,

Department, 1905, advertises Wrench machine.

43 The Sydney Morning Herald, 2 March 1897, p. 2.

4 4 Ibid., 8 June 1897, p. 7.

45 Cecil Hepworth, Came The Dawn, Garden City Press, London, 1951, pp.

in the NFS A video, Federation Films (1991).

Unidentified cutting, probably from Melbourne Argus, labelled “ 1 8 9 2 ”, formerly held by Thwaites’ daughter, the late Doreen Maxwell, of Peregian

46 Australasian Photographic Review, 19 June 1897, p. 27.

Beach, Queensland.

A photo of Thwaites at the tiller of this car in the course of an 1898

48 The Sydney Morning Herald, 2 March 1899, p. 7.

demonstration at St Kilda cricket ground survives, together with oral family

50 Ibid., 28 March 1899, p. 2.

accounts connected with it.

Scientific Australian, Melbourne, 20 September, 1904, p. 8; 20 September

51 Ibid., 29 April 1899, p. 2.

15-24.

4 7 Ibid., 21 September 1897, p. 23: “At the Randwick Races” .

49 Ibid., 13 March 1899, p. 3.

52 Ibid., 18 May 1901, p. 12.

1905, p. 8; 20 June 1911, p. 6. Ballarat Courier, 14 October, 1905.

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 ■ 61

FILM FINANCE CORPORATION FUNDING DECISIONS

PRODUCTION SURVEY INFORMATION IS CORRECT AND ADJUDGED AS OF 3/9/93.

June going struggle to resolve the mystery surround­ ing the death of a local Aboriginal girl.

FEATURES R O U G H D IA M O N D S

LIFT OFF 2

(100 mins) Forest Home Films. Producer: Damien Parer. Director: Donald Crombie. Scriptwriters: Donald Crombie, Christopher Lee. MikeTyrell is a Queensland cattleman who seems not to have a care in the world but in reality is a young man with responsibilities beyond his years. His life changes when the cattle truck he is driving hits a parked car that belongs to barrister’s wife Chrissie Bright, a former professional singer.

( 13x1 hour) Australian Children’s Television Foundation. Executive producer: Patricia Edgar.

Producers: Patricia Edgar, Susie Campbell. The sequel to the highly-acclaimed series continues to entertain and guide young children discover­ ing the world, exploring and having fun.

DOCUMENTARIES FIFTY YEARS O F SILENCE

(1 TV hour) City Pictures. Producers: Ned Lander, Carol Ruff. Director: Ned Lander. Scriptwriter: Carole Sklan. Mrs Jan Ruff-O’Herne, an Ad­ elaide grandmother, has broken her 50 years of silence. As a young Dutch Indonesian girl in a prisoner of war camp in Java during World War II she endured countless rapes and beatings. In 1992, along with two other Dutch women who were enforced prostitutes for Japanese officers, she appeared before the International Public Hearing for Post-War Compensation in Tokyo.

W A R R IO R S IN T R A N S IT

(1 TV hour) Tracey Groome. Producers: Tracey Groome, Liz Thompson, Tom Zubrycki. Direc­ tors: Tracey Groome, Liz Thompson.

Scriptwriters: Tracey Groome, Liz Thompson.

Seen through the eyes of William Takaku, the director of Papua New Guinea’s National Thea­ tre Company, this film will examine how theatri­ cal performances are being used in urban cen­ tres to guide people through the confusing tur­ moil of change. The film will look at the use of theatre as an educational tool to inform villagers in rural areas about the long term consequences of logging on the environment.

B O YS A N D BALLS

(1 TV hour) Thermal Falls. Producer: Anna Grieve. Director: Sue Thomson. Scriptwriters: Sue Thomson, Brian Nankervis. A humorous look at men’s obsession with sporting rituals told through interviews with well-known sports iden­ tities and the general public, sporting highlights of cricket and Aussie rules, ball-training films and advertising. An irreverent view of male bond­ ing habits.

July FEATURES NAPO LEO N

(100 mins) Film Australia/Furry Features. Ex­ ecutive producers: Ron Saunders, Masato Hara.

Producers: Mario Andreacchio, Michael Bourchier, Naouori Kawamura. Directors: Mario Andreacchio, Michael Bourchier. Scriptwriters: Mario Andreacchio, Michael Bourchier. Napo­ leon is a puppy dog happily living with a family in suburbia. He is unexpectedly lifted out of his backyard and transported into a natural bushland world.

TELEVISION DRAMA MINI-SERIES B U R N ED BRIDG E

(13x1 hour mini-series) Northway Productions.

Executive producer: Penny Chapman. Producer: Bruce Best. Associate producer: Phaedon Vass.

Directors: Julian Pringle, Paul Faint, Scott Hartford-Davies. Scriptwriters: Ro Hume, Anne Brooksbank, Susan MacGillicuddy, Nicholas Parsons, John Cundill, Kristen Dunphy, Bob Maza. Principal cast: Ernie Dingo. Stories of contemporary rural life are linked by the on­

NOTE: Production Survey forms now adhere to a revised fo rm at.

cannot ac cep t inform ation received in a

THE S C H O O L O F BABEL

IS L A N D S O F FIRE A N D M A G IC

(1 TV hour) Sky Visuals. Producer: Gary Steer.

Associate producer: Larry Gray. Director: Gary Steer. Scriptwriter: Rebecca Scott. An adven­ ture expedition by sea kayak through the remote islands of Papua New Guinea. It is a journey into an ancient and forgotten tribal world.

THE R A IN B O W W O M A N

(1 TV hour) Magic Lantern Productions. Pro­ ducer: Andrew Wiseman. Co-producer: Manuela Alberti. Director: Manuela Alberti. Scriptwriter: Manuela Alberti. Lyndall Hendrickson has re­ ceived world acclaim for her unorthodox meth­ ods of teaching music to gifted children as well as those with severe autism. The film presents her current work with Patrick Farley, an 11-yearold autistic boy, who can now play piano duets with his teacher.

BARRED W IVES

(1 TV hour) Piper Films. Executive producers: David White (SBS), Mike Piper. Producer: Mike Piper. Director: Jacquelynne Willcox. Scriptwriter: Jacquelynne Willcox. The documentary looks at women who visit prisons, meet an inmate and marry him. Many of these women are profes­ sional. middle-class women and some are sub­ urban, church-going women. Why do they love a man society considers a monster?

K A N G A R O O IS L A N D E C H ID N A S

(1 TV hour) Piper Films. Executive producer: Dione Gilmour (ABC). Producer: Mike Piper.

Director: Jim Roberts. Scriptwriter: Jim Roberts.

The strange world of echnidas observed through the work of American scientist, Dr. Peggy Rismiller, who studies these little-known mam­ mals at the remote Pelican Lagoon Research and Wildlife Centre on Kangaroo Island, off the coast of South Australia.

CENO TAPH

(1 TV hour) The Notion Picture Company/Oracle Pictures. Executive producers: Max Lloyd, Gregory Swanborough. Producer: Robert Reynolds. Associate producer: Pru Donovan.

Director: Christopher Tuckfield. Scriptwriter: Christopher Tuckfield. The documentary follows Australian veterans of the Great War when they revisit the battlefields of France as part of the 75th anniversary of Armistice. It analyzes the effects of the war over generations in the small country town of Hay in Western NSW.

PAPERS

95

Synopsis: Sometimes your better half is you.

T H A T EYE TH E SKY

Prod, company Dist. company Pre-production Production Post-production

FEATURES PRE-PRODUCTION

Genesis Films $2.6 million

Principal Credits

Director Producers

Scriptwriters

Craig Lahiff Craig Lahiff Paul Davies Helen Leake Bob Ellis Peter Goldsworthy Warwick Hind

O th e r C redits

Gauge Length

35mm 94 mins Synopsis: A lawyertakes a compensation case against a chemical company, and becomes en­ meshed in a web of lies and corruption.

[No further details supplied] M U R IE L ’S W E D D IN G

Prod, company Dist. company Pre-production Production

Assoc, producers Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designer

Paul J. Hogan Lynda House Jocelyn Moorhouse Tony Mahood Michael D. Aglion Paul J. Hogan Martin McGrath David Lee Jill Bilcock Patrick Reardon Terry Ryan

Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Casting

Alison Barrett

P ro d u ctio n Crew

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Prod, secretary Location manager Production runner Prod, accountant

Catherine “Tatts” Bishop Rowena Talacko Sharon Gerussi Patricia Blunt Martin Williams Jill Steele Moneypenny Services Insurer Steeves Lumley Completion guarantor Film Finances Legal services Roth Warren Camera Crew

Camera operator

David Williamson

O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity

Tony Mahood John Martin Karen Mahood Daphne Paris

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Art dept co-ord Art dept runner Set dressers Standby props

Hugh Bateup Christina Norman Peter Forbes Jane Murphy Glen W. Johnson Robert Moxham

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Film gauge

35mm

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Development Production

Director Producer Co-producer Exec, producers

Scriptwriters Based on the novel Written by DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designer

John Ruane Peter Beilby Grainne Marmion Fred Schepisi Robert Le Tet Tim Bevan John Ruane Jim Barton That Eye the Sky Tim Winton Ellery Ryan Lloyd Carrick Ken Sallows Chris Kennedy Vicki Friedman

Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Script editor Casting

John Flaus Maura Fay & Associates

P ro d u c tio n Crew

House & Moorhouse Films Village Roadshow 23/8/93 ...

18/10/93 ...

Principal Credits

Director Producers

Entertainment Media Beyond Films 16/8/93 ...

25/10/93 ...

20/12/93 ...

Principal Credits

EBB T ID E

Prod, company Budget

Marketing Inti, sales agent 62 . Cl N E M A

Village Roadshow

sta ff to re-process th e inform ation.

THE P A R ISH

(1 TV hour) OCP Limited. Executive producer: Geoff Barnes (SBS). Producers: Andrew Wiseman, Jack White. Director: Mark Osborne.

Scriptwriter: Mark Osborne. The parish of St. Ambrose, a modern Catholic community in in­ ner-city Brunswick, is a microcosm of Australian society. The documentary explores this dynamic community and the daily routine of its engaging and funny priest, Father Bongiorno.

Publicity

Cast: Toni Collette (Muriel), Bill Hunter (Bill).

d iffe re n t fo rm at, as it does n o t have th e

DOCUMENTARIES (1 TV hour) Robert Cockburn. Producer: Robert Cockburn. Co-producer: Jenny Day. Director: Robert Cockburn. Scriptwriter: Robert Cockburn.

A new approach to teaching children at a multi­ cultural school in Sydney.

Cinema Papers regrets it

Film Victoria AFC Film Victoria FFC CiBy Sales

Prod, manager Tony Leach Prod, co-ordinator Susie Wright Prod, secretary Robin Astley Location manager Maurice Burns Unit manager Michael Batchelor Prod, accountant Kevin Plummer Insurer Jardines Completion guarantor First Australian Comple­ tion Bond Company Legal services Holding Redlich Camera Crew

Camera operator Key grip Gaffer

Mandy Walker Barry Hansen Ted Nordsvan

O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director Continuity Make-up Make-up asst Special fx supervisor

Phil Jones Annie Beresford Amanda Rowbottom Zjelka Stanin Michael Bladon

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Art dept co-ordinator

Brian Dusting Sharon Young

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Asst editor Laboratory

Maria Kaltenhaler Cinevex

M a rk e tin g

Inti, sales agent Beyond Films Publicity Palace Publicity Cast: [No details supplied.]

Synopsis: A young boy struggles to free his father from a coma following a car accident.

V A C A N T P O S S E S S IO N

Prod, company Pre-production Production

Wintertime Films 5/10/93-7/11/93 8/11/93-17/12/93

P rincipal Credits

Director Producer Scriptwriter DOP

Margot Nash John Winter Margot Nash Dion Beebe

O th e r C redits

Casting Aboriginal consult.

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Location manager Unit manager Production runner^ Prod, accountant Completion guarantor

Faith Martin Kathy Kum-sing Caroline Bonham Fiona King Robin Clifton Rick Kornaat Daniel Heather Di Brown Film Finances

Legal services Camera operator Continuity

FFC NSW Film & Television Office Apocalypse

Nina Stevenson Dion Beebe Lynn-Maree Dansey

Marketing Inti, sales agent Manifesto Film Sales Catherine Lavelle Publicity Cast: Terence Stamp, Hugo Weaving, Guy Pearce, Bill Hunter.

Synopsis: A comedy musical about three drag queens crossing the Australian outback In a bus.

G o v e rn m e n t A g e n c y In v e s tm e n t

Development AFC AFC Production Cast: Pamela Rabe, Linden Wilkinson.

Synopsis: When the past refuses to be buried it must be met in the present. Tessa had not gambled on that.

[

FEATURES PRODUCTION

■

1' '

'm m

TH E A D V E N T U R E S O F PR ISC ILLA , Q U E E N O F TH E DESERT

Prod, companies Production Post-production

Latent Image Specific Films 13/9/93-28/10/93 28/10/93...

P rincipal C redits

Director Producers Exec, producer Assoc, producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designers Composer

Stephan Elliott Al Clark Michael Hamiyn Rebel Penfold-Russell Sue Seeary Stephan Elliott Brian Breheny Guntis Sics Sue Blainey Owen Paterson Lizzy Gardiner Tim Chappel Guy Gross

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Producer’s asst Location manager Transport manager Unit manager Unit assistant Production runner Prod, accountant Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services

Sue Seeary Esther Rodewald Grant Lee Rick Komaat Tim Parry Rick Komaat Russell Fewtrell Jamie Platt John May Jardine Tolley Film Finances Martin Cooper

Camera Crew

Camera operator Focus puller Clapper-loader Gaffer Best boy

Brian Breheny Adrien Seffrin Anna Townsend Paul Booth Matt Inglis

O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director Continuity Boom operator Make-up Make-up assts Hairdresser Hair assts Choreographer Stunts co-ord.

Safety officer Mechanic Bus driver Still photography Unit publicist Catering

Stuart Freeman Emma Schofield Kate Dennis Fiona McBain Cassie Hanlon Angela Conte Strykermeyer Cassie Hanlon Angela Conte Strykermeyer John O’Connell Bernie Ledger Bernie Ledger Mark McKinley Mark McKinley Elise Lockwood Catherine Lavelle Marike Janavicius

A r t D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Art dept runner Props buyer Vehicle co-ord.

Colin Gibson Yann Vignes Kerry Brown Tim Parry

W a rd ro b e

Costume supervisor Costume co-ord.

Designer’s asst.

Emily Seresin Roz Hinde Adam Dalli

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Tony Lynch Post-prod, supervisor Tony Lynch Post-prod, liaison Andy Yuncken Asst editor Steve Erskine Sound supervisor Steve Erskine Sound editor Atlab Laboratory Ian Russell Lab liaison 35mm Anamorphic Film gauge 1:2.35 Screen ratio Apocalypse Video transfer by Investment Finance Polygram Filmed Entertainment

Coventry Films Winfalz Inti.

19/6/93-5/7/93 6/7/93 -1/8/93 2/8/93 - 30/2/94

Principal C redits

Director Producer Original screenplay by Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Art director Composer

Prod, accountants Asst auditor Accounts assts Payroll asst Art dept, accountant

Murray Fahey Murray Fahey Murray Fahey Murray Fahey Peter Borosh David Glasser Brian Kavanagh Robyn Monkhouse Frank Strangio

Focus puller 1st asst camera 2nd asst camera B camera 1st asst B camera operator Steadicam Camera loader Video asst Key grips Dolly grip Best boy grip Grips

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Bernard Purcell Gina Twyble Carla Busceml Winfalz Inti.

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Prod, secretary Completion guarantor Camera Crew

Gaffers Best boy Electricians

Peter Borosh Adam Good

Camera operator Key grip O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director Asst director

Bernard Purcell Serena Hunt

Post-prod, supervisor Sound editors

Brian Kavanagh Craig Carter Livia Rutic Peter Frost Atlab

Mixer Laboratory Cast: [No details supplied.]

Synopsis: A suspense thriller about a woman haunted by her past.

L IG H T N IN G JACK

Lightning Ridge Productions

Principal Credits

Director Producers Exec, producers Line producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designer Exec, vice president Business affairs Lightning Ridge

Simon Wincer Greg Coote Simon Wincer Paul Hogan Graham Burke Grant Hill Paul Hogan David Eggby Lloyd Carrick Nick Brown Bernard Hides Bruce Flnlayson Mark Geremia Village Roadshow Kim Vecera Village Roadshow Tony Stewart

P lanning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Script supervisor Casting agent Casting associate Extras casting Asst extras casting

Liz Barton Mike Fenton Julie Ashton Therese Schoeppner Jack Young Jackie D. Almada

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinators Asst prod, co-ord.

Asst to Paul Hogan Prod, secretaries

VP Billabong Location manager Unit prod, manager Asst locations Prod, assistants

Gang boss Sign painters

Painters

Standby painter Art dept prod, asst

Derry Field Dominic Napolitano Timothy Dunford Louis Niemeyer Buzz Feitshans Buzz Feitshans Ann Melvin Richard Kehl Robin Knight Graeme Litchfield Chuck Brown Jeff Klutz Sonny Johnson Harlan Espeset Shaw Burroughs Michael Warren Bradley Keller Bob Drlskell Tony Holtham Rob Baumgartner Barry Smith Johnny Smith Chris Joehnk Louis Nelson Ramon Ortega Steve Mullen

Vicki Popplewell Carrie Du rose Serena Gattuso Stacy Plavoukos Michele Abandond Juan Bernardez Julie Cameron Karen Bass Bonnie Abaunza Brian Haynes Grant Hill Kash McKewen Kate Noble Eli Weisman Andrew Martorano Pat Marz Sonia Apodaca

1st asst director 2nd asst director 2nd 2nd asst director 2nd unit director Key set p.a.

Set p.a.

Boom operator Cable person Key make-up artist Paul Hogan’s make-up Asst make-up Key hairdresser Asst hair Special fx supervisor Special fx

Stunts co-ordinators Unit nurse Still photography Unit publicist Catering Chef driver Craft service

Bob Donaldson Mark Cotone Lisa Satriano Bill Burton Chad Rosen Nick Satriano Brian Frank Gene Ashbrook Charles Putney Bonita Dehaven Judy Lovell Kathleen Douthit Susan Mills Kathleen Douthit Greg Curtis Logan Frazee Dan Lester Steve Courtney Bill Burton Guy Norris Clndi Simmons Sidney Baldwin Michael Singer Salvador Catering Jose Trujillo Sol Rivera

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Liz Thomas Virginia Bieneman Mark Meloccaro Art dept co-ordinators Jenny O’Connell Andrew Gartner Set designer Lynn Wolverton Parker Set decorators Susan Maybury Peter Lloyd Production artist Robert Alcala Lead dresser Dan Miller Set dresser Leonard Vigil Andrew Trujillo Barbara Simpson Set buyer Wren Boney On-set dressers John Kretschmer Bob Baker Draper John Pattison Propmaster Al Elsenmann Asst props Suzanne Lapick Al Eisenmann Armourers Brian Burns Scott Peltola Prop makers Darryl Lee Robert Murray Brian Stultz Scenic chargeman Ray Pedler Scenic artist James F. Onate General foreman

Peter Durand Bill May Terry Kauffman Robert Ramsey Pat Fulton John Thomas Wayne Drake Alisa Lumbreras Elizabeth Beckman Stephanie Rogers Andrea Guy Trish Thayer

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe supervisor Set costumer Costumer Wardrobe Swing

Charlene Amateau Brian Birge Sally Howard Pamala Waggoner Pamala Waggoner

W ranglers

Jerry Young Phillip Cowling Jim Ericsson Jack Young Guy Small James Alfonso Tom Berto Tom Byrd

Ram rod Gang boss Wranglers

C on struc tion D e p t

Construction co-ord.

Construct, manager General foreman Foremen Construct, medic Carpenters

O n -s e t Crew

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Prod, company

Jeff Tanner Rob Catron Cliff Reisig Gareth Calverley San Bernstein Robert Threadgold James Linville Leslie “Tinker” Linville Angela Kenny Karen Wolfe Genevieve Duraire

Camera Crew

ENCO UNTERS

Prod, company Dist. company Pre-production Production Post-production

L.A. liaison Production runners

Asst carpenters Labour foreman Labourers

Art directors

Conrad Chitwood Phil Worth Chris Marneus Aaron Newton Terry Kempf Steven Kerber Neil Gahm Kim Hawkins Vince Berry Dan Lynch Jason Newton Alan Feffer Jeff Craig Sam Durbin Rod Hutchinson Joanne Knoebel Rosario Provenza Kelley Graham Jaime Casillas Eduardo Esperanza Elliot Medow Richard Morgan Patrick Martin Randell Stair Jamie Stair Eugene Husted Martin Goulding Ron Nix Greg Newton Bill Naumann Heath Tomaskl Karl Swauger Syd Moore James Blair Jon Ashley John Marum Jim Fitzpatrick Jim Martin Cody Plttard John Fitzgerald Dave Martin Cameron Martin Valerie Townsley

T ra n s p o rta tio n

Transport co-ord Captain/Make-up Director's trailer Cast trailers Prop trailer Camera truck Wardrobe trailer Special fx trailer Electrics Grip truck Honeywagon Water truck Cast Construction

Shotmaker driver Vans

CINEMA

Frank Roughan Ray Holmgren Terry Cmic Jan Ostermann Patsy Lomax Paul Youds Austin Marcos Dan Breneman Rick Ryan Fred Hope Bob Ginchereaux Ken Hardman Keith Laursen Phyllis Cantu Tom Whelpley Tim Edwards Randy Edwards Dick McCartney Jose Benny Cantu Benette Cantu George Lebow PAPERS

9 5 • 63

Set dressing

Charles Hampton Leo Reilly

Staging assts

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Post-prod, supervisor Mark Marshall Asst editor Bryan Carroll Apprentice editor Brett Carroll Sound mixer Bud Alper Cast: Paul Hogan (Jack Kane), Cuba Gooding Jr. (Ben Doyle), Beverly D’Angelo (Lana), Kamala Dawson (Pilar), Pat Hingle (Marshall Kurtz), L. Q. Jones (Local Sheriff), Max Cullen (Bart), Roger Daltry (J. T. Coles).

Synopsis: It is 1870 and “Lightning” Jack Kane, at first glance, is your typical Western outlaw, cool as ice, tough as a 10 cent steak, and as fast as his nickname. But Jack is different. For start­ ers, he is an Aussie larrikin, superstitious, a bit short-sighted, and with his own peculiar logic.

PO LIC E RESCUE - TH E M O V IE

Prod, company Pre-production Production Post-production

Southern Star Xanadu 2/8/93 ...

30/8/93-1/10/93 4/10/93-19/11/93

Principal Credits

Director Producers

Michael Carson Sandra Levy John Edwards Errol Sullivan Penny Chapman Wayne Barry Debra Oswald Russell Bacon Peter Grace Chris Spurr Murray Pickett

Exec, producers Assoc, producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer

Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Casting

Ann Robinson Liz Mullinar Casting

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Studios

Prod, secretary Location manager Unit manager Unit asst Prod, runner Prod, accountant Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services

Jo Rooney Andrea Chittenden Amanda Higgs Rosa Del Ponte Lis Gilroy Trish Rothkrans “A.M." Simon-Mayer Peter Branch Rob Brown Marianne Flynn H. W. Wood Australia Film Finances David Heidtman

Camera Crew

Matt Bartley Damian Leonard ABC, Frenchs Forest

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Asst editors Sound editors

Sound asst Sound audio op.

Mixer Neg matching Laboratory Lab liaison

Nicole La Macchia Martin Hiscox Fabian Sanjurjo (dial.)

Peter Hall (fx) Ian Neilson (foleys) John Hemming Erik Briggs Peter Purcell Brian Jamison Atlab Simon Wicks

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Production Marketing Inti, sales agent Inti, distributors

FFC

R O U G H D IA M O N D S

Prod, company

Forest Home Films

Principal Credits

Director Producer Exec, producers

DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designers Composer

Boom operator Make-up

Paul Jones Margaret Archman Carolyn Nott Hairdresser Margaret Archer Asst, hairdresser Carolyn Nott Stunts co-ord.

Danny Baldwin Unit nurse Annie O’Halloran Chaperone Louise Forster Tutor Rob Bailey Stills photography Karl Fehr Unit publicist Lionel Midford Catering Bronwen Feachnie Catering A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Art dept runner Set dresser Props buyer Standby props Action vehicle co-ord.

Donald Crombie Damien Parer Damien Parer Jonathan Shteinman Donald Crombie Christopher Lee John Stokes John Schiefelbein Wayne Le Clos Georgina Greenhill Kim Sandeman Chris Feld Peter Martin

Standby wardrobe

Russel Bacon Sean McClory Bruce Young Brett Joyce David Dunkley Gary Burdett Tim Jones Martin Perrott John Prentice Phil Mulligan Bob Woods

Generator operator O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity Boom operators Make-up Make-up assistant Special fx co-ord’s Stunts co-ord’s Safety officer ; Unit nurse Stills photography Catering Runner

Michael Faranda Warren Parsonson Francesca Belli George Kightly Sue Kerr Grant Shepherd Garry Siutz Kerry Jury Tracey Gamer Peter Leggett John Neal Glen Boswell Richard Boue George Mannix Julie Deakiris Gary Johnston Johnny Faithful Rob Brown

A r t D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Art dept co-ord Set dressers

Jon Rohde Lee Bulgin Richard Kennett Tal Oswin Susan Glavich

Props buyer W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe co-ord Wardrobe assts

Wendy Falconer Olivia Schmid PAPERS

95

Barbra Zussino

Anim als

Animal wrangler

Mark Gainford

C on struction D e p t

Construct, manager

Michael Ashton

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Post-prod, supervisor Music supervisor

Wayne Hayes John McDonald Bright Sparks Songs Laboratory Atlab Lab liaisons Greg Doherty Gary Kier Film stock Mark Green Tony Shiltston Kodak Cast: Jason Donovan (Mike), Hayley Toomey (Sam), Jocelyn Rosen (Lisa), Angie Milliken (Chrissie), Kit Taylor (Les Finnigan), Lee James (Macka McKeegan), Jeffrey Hardy (Douglas McFarlane), Roger Ward (Merv Drysdale), Maurice Hughes (Jimmy Rawlins), Tim Gaffney P oc)Synopsis: Mike Tyrell’s life changes when in a moment of inattention the cattle truck he is driving hits a car parked on the of the road that belongs to Chrissie Bright, an ex-singer turned barrister’s wife, on the run from suburban life.

Grip Asst grip Gaffer Best boy 3rd electrics

Peter DeHaari Michael Gaffney Paul Booth Matt Inglis Michael Gaffney

O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director

Chris Webb Geoffrey Guiffre Sophie Fabbri-Jackson Grant Shepherd Fiona McBain Nikki Gooley Nikki Gooley Dave Young Chris Wauchop Jason Gilbert Greg Stuart Linda Young Ellse Lockwood Out-to-Lunch

Continuity Boom operators Make-up Hairdresser Special fx co-ord.

Model maker Asst model maker Safety officer Unit nurse Still photography Catering A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art dept co-ord.

Decorator Props buyer Standby props Art dept. asst.

Armourer

Tracey Moxham Marta McElroy Marta McElroy Murray Gosson Mario Varricchio Robert Colby

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe buyer Standby wardrobe

Lyn Askew Lyn Askew

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Asst editor Sound transfers Sound editor Asst sound editor Laboratory Neg matching Film gauge Shooting stock Screen ratio

Nick Breslin Audio Loc Sound Design Tony Vaccher John Dennison Movielab Chris Rowell Productions Super 16 Kodak 7293, 7248

10:1

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Development NSW Film & Television Office Production NSW Film & Television Office Marketing Inti, sales agent Total Film & Television Australian dist.

REP Press kit Paul Lepetit Cast: Paul Chubb (Dirk Trent), Susan Lyons

Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Casting Extras casting

Susie Maizels Maizels & Assoc.

Peta Einberg Maizels & Assoc.

FEATURES POST-PRODUCTION . (

t -K ,

S e c p r e v io u s is s u e f o r d e t a ils o n :

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Camera operator Focus puller Clapper-loader 2nd unit cam. op.

2nd camera asst.

Key grip Gaffer Best boy Electricians

Julianne White Jamie Howe Rebecca Cohen Kristin Reuter George Zammit Peter Cashman

W a rd ro b e

Southern Star Film Sales UIP Southern Star Inti.

Publicity Victoria Buchan Cast: Gary Sweet (Mickey), Zoe Carides (Lorrie), Steve Bastoni (Angel), Sonia Todd (Georgia), Tammy Macintosh (Kathy), Jeremy Callaghan (Brian), John Clayton (Adams), Belinda Cotterill (Sharyn).

Synopsis: A feature adaptation of the television series of the same name.

Scriptwriters

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Producers’ assts

64 • C I N E M A

Martine Summons C on struc tion D e p t

D A LLAS D O LL

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Prod, co-ord. attach.

Prod, secretary Location manager Unit manager Unit assistant Prod, assistant Prod, accountant Accounts asst.

Auditor

Julie Forster Jennifer Cornwell Tony De Pasquale Kerry Mulgrew Christopher Strewe Dave Suttor Stuart Lynch Damien Rossi Eric Sankey Ann McFarlane Russell Brown Douglas Heck & Burrell Insurer Neil McEwin FIUA Completion guarantor Antonia Barnard Film Finances Legal services Rebecca Johnson Phillips Fox Solicitors Accommodation Melaini Lewis Car hire Australian Rent-A-Car Camera Crew

Camera operator Focus puller Clapper-loader 2nd unit director 2nd unit DOP Camera equipment

Tracy Kubler Tony Politis Nathan Harvey Brad Shields Brad Shields Bill Ross Samuelsons Film Service Key grip Gary Shearsmith AsSt grip John Dolan Gaffer Keri Moffatt Asst gaffer Murray Head Generator operator John Cavanagh 2nd electrics Mick O’Brien O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity

Vicki Sugars Adam Spencer Angela McPherson Carolina Haggstrom

EXILE G IN O O P E N CITY TH E P E N A L C O L O N Y S IR EN S

(Det. McKenzie), Deborah Kennedy (Chantal), John Batchelor (Axel), Roy Billing (Sidebottom).

Synopsis: Dirk Trent, a chain-smoking, harddrinking, low-rent private investigator is thrown headlong into a murder investigation. Someone or something, or perhaps a combination of both is making people’s heads explode all over town and Dirk is determined to find out why. That is his first mistake.

THE R O LY P O LY M A N

Prod, company Dist. company Production

Rough Nut Productions Total Film & Television REP 16/7/93-20/8/93

Principal Credits

Director Producer Line producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designer Composer

Bill Young Peter Green John Winter Kym Goldsworthy Brian Deheny Guntis Sics Neil Thumpston Robert “Moxy” Moxham Margot Wilson Dave Skinner

P lan ning a n d D e v e lo p m e n t

Casting Extras casting

Greg Apps Julia Walker

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordiriator Location manager Unit manager Unit assistant Runner Prod, accountant Insurer Completion guarantor

Caroline Bonham Fiona King Robyn Bersten Rick Kornaat Russell Fewtrell Daniel Heather Di Brown Hammond & Jewell Film Finances

Camera Crew

Focus puller Clapper-loader Key grip

Kate Dennis Anna Townsend Pat Nash

SPEED

Prod, company Pre-production Production Post-production

Daniel Scharf Prods A p r-Ju n 1993 Ju n -A u g 1993 Aug 1993 - Mar 1994

Principal C redits

Director Producer Line producer Assoc, producer Scriptwriter DOP Editor Prod, designer Costume designer Composer

Geoffrey Wright Daniel Scharf Elisa Argenzio Jonathan Shteinman Geoffrey Wright Ron Hagen Bill Murphy Steven Jones-Evans Anna Borghesi John Clifford White

Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Script editor Casting Casting consultants Extras casting Storyboard artist Budgeted by

Angus Cummings Greg Apps Prototype Casting Prototype Casting John Zurbo Lars Michalak

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Prod, secretary Location manager Unit manager Unit asst Prod, asst Production runner

'

Elisa Argenzio Serena Gattuso Mel Goggins Maurice Bums Andy Pappas John Greene Megan Spencef lain Pirret

Prod, accountant Accounts asst Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services

Berndette Breitkreuz Dean Hood Steeves Lumley Film Finances Holding Redlich

Executive producers

Camera Crew

Camera operator Brent Crockett Focus puller Gary Bottomley Clapper-loader Brett Matthews 2nd unit focus Laurie Balmer Camera type Arri BL IV Camera maintenance Samuelson Film Service Key grip Leigh Tait Asst grip Alistair Reilly Gaffer Tom Moody Best boys David Smith Peter Chittleborough Asst electrics Simon Goetzel O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity Boom operators Make-up Make-up asst Special fx make-up Special fx supervisor Special fx Stunts co-ordinators

Stunts asst Safety officer Unit nurse Mechanics Still photography Unit publicist Catering Runners

Chris Odgers Monica Pearce Tim Scott Victoria Sullivan Craig Beggs Cathy Gross Christine Miller Lyn Wheeler Bob McCarran Peter Stubbs Jeff Little Chris Anderson Mark Hennessy Arch Roberts Wally Dalton Wally Dalton Cathy Barker Michael Barns James MacDougal Jennifer Mitchell Meredith King Food for Film James Freemantle Abby Hunt

Art director Art dept co-ord Art dept runner Set dresser Props buyer Standby props Armourer Action vehicle co-ord

Graham Blackmore Suzie Thompson Adam Alan Browne Georgina Campbell Colin Robertson Vanessa Thompson John Bromley Rob McLeod

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe supervisor Standby wardrobe Wardrobe asst

Louise McCarthy Rachel Nott Cheyne Phillips

C on struc tion D e p t

Set finishers

Lance Davis Andrew Warpole Jim Gannon Carrie Kennedy Ben Morieson

Edge numberer Sound transfers by Sound editor Laboratory Lab liaison Shooting stock

Jane Usher Bronwyn Smith Kathleen O’Brien Maciek Wszelaki Eugene Wilson Frank Lipson Cinevex Ian Anderson Kodak

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e n t

Development Film Victoria Production FFC Marketing Inti, sales agent Southern Star Film Sales Cast: Aden Young (Joe), Tara Morice (Savina), Nadine Garner (Roslyn), Ben Mendelsohn (Dazey), Chantal Contouri (Savina’s Mother), Petru Gheor Hiu (Pop), Richard Sutherland (Rosco).

S ynopsis: Tragedy comes inevitably in Speed, a story about psycho Joe, an urban misfit who craves the respect of his peers on the streets and the love of a nice girl who secretly practises black magic.

TH E SEVEN TH FL O O R

Prod, company

Rutherford Films Holdings

P rincipal C redits

Director Producer

Casting Prod, manager Production co-ord’s

Stephen Jones Barbara Ring Nathalie Tanner (U.K.) Portman rep.

Andrew Warren Sogovision rep.

Yuki Otsuka Prod, secretary Lorelle Adamson Producer’s asst.

Sally Bristoe Location manager Phillip Roope Unit manager Bob Graham Production runner Jamie Platt Prod, accountant Sally Campbell Insurer Hammond Jewell Completion guarantor Film Finances Legal services Mallesons Stephens Jacques Jet Aviation Travel co-ord.

Camera Crew

Camera operator Focus pullers Clapper-loader Key grip Asst grip Gaffer Best boy Electricians

Danny Batterham Leilani Hannah Darrin Keough Rebecca Steel Brett McDowell Alan Trevena David Parkinson Greg Rawson Andrew Moore Paul Sellgren

1st asst director 2nd asst director

P. J. Voeten Emma Schofield Martin Williams 3rd asst director Alison Goodwin Continuity Boom operator Fiona McBain Louis Cullen Sound attach.

Véronique Joukoff Interpreter Andrew Crichton Driver Viv Mepham Make-up Angela P. Conte John Bird Hairdresser Special fx supervisor Chris Murray Rocky McDonald Stunts co-ord.

Julie Deakins Unit nurse Robert McFarlane Still photography Fiona Searson Unit publicist Dennis Davidson Assoc.

Good Lookin’ Cookin’ Catering

Ian Barry John Sexton

Art director Set decorator Set dresser Props buyer Standby props Art dept asst.

offers Kate his support. But his sweet demean­ our cloaks a dark and dangerous personality.

TA LK

Sarah Tooth Kerrie Brown Jane Murphy Jane Murphy Colin Gibson Charlie Revai Kerry Thompson Gabrielle Dunn Judith Meschke

Director Producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordists Editor Prod, designer Costume designer Composer

Frank Falconer Danny Burnett Dean Steiner

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Martin Connor Asst editor Atlab Laboratory Spectrum Cutting room Videolab Telecine transfers Cast: Brooke Shields (Kate), Masaya Kato (Mitsura), Linda Cropper (Vivien), Craig Pearce (Ed).

Synopsis: A psychological thriller. When Kate's husband Bill dies, Kate takes his place as one of three partners In a Sydney advertising agency.

The two other partners, Ed and Vivien, introduce herto Mitsura, a design and computer whiz in the graphics department. With his help, Kate lands a major account. An envious Vivien blackmails Ed into forcing Kate out of the agency. Mitsura

Susan Lambert Megan McMurchy Jan Cornall Ron Hagen Tim Lloyd Don Connolly Henry Dangar Lissa Coote Clarrissa Patterson John Clifford White

Planning a n d D e v e lo p m e n t

Keith Thompson Script editor Casting Liz Mullinar Casting Consultants Performance consultant Lindy Davies Brandon Hendroff Storyboard artist Keith Heygate Shooting schedule Julia Ritchie Budgeted by P ro d u c tio n Crew

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinators Location manager Unit manager Asst, unit manager Unit asst Prod, assistant Production runner Prod, accountant Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services

Julia Ritchie Rowena Talacko Caroline Bonham Robin Clifton Rick Kornaat Wil Milne Russell Fewtrell Virginia Croall Julian Ryan Dianne Brown Steeves Lumley Film Finances Michael Frankel & Co.

Camera Crew

Focus puller Clapper-loader Camera attachment Steadicam operator Key grip Asst, grip Gaffer Best boy Generator operator

Gary Bottomley Mark Muggeridge Michele Duval David Woodward Pip The Grip’ Shapiera Joe Janes Tom Moody Andrew Smith Peter Chittleborough

O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity Boom operators Make-up Hairdressers Make-up attachment Stunts co-ords.

Safety officer Still photography Unit publicists Catering

Keith Heygate Topher Dow Belinda Mravicic Nicki Moors Mark Van Kool Andy Duncan Angela Conte Michele Johnston Angela Conte Michele Johnston Angela Mork Rocky McDonald Guy Norris Greg Stuart Elise Lockwood Jo-Anne Partridge Rosemary Blight Megan Howie Good Lookin’ Cooking

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art dept runner Set decorators

C on struction D e p t

Scenic artist Construct, manager Carpenter

John Patterson TonyVaccher John Dennison Movielab Martin Hoyle Chris Rowell Productions Kelvin Crumplin Super 16mm Blown up to 35mm 1:1.85 Eastman Color Negative

Mixers Laboratory Lab liaison Neg matching Grader Gauge

P rincipal C redits

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe co-ord.

Standby wardrobe Wardrobe attach.

Suitcase Films 18/1/- 26/2/93 1/3/ - 2/4/93 5/4/ - Nov 93

Prod, company Pre-production Production Post-production

Maura Fay & Assoc.

P ro d u c tio n Crew

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Asst editor Editing assts

P lanning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

O n -s e t Crew

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Construct, manager Carpenters

Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designer Composer

Victor Glynn Chris Brown Hiroyuki Ikeda Yoshinori Watanabe Susumu Kondo Alan Bateman Tony Morphett Martin McGrath Guntis Sics Tim Wellburn Roger Ford Terry Ryan Roger Mason

Standby props Armourer

Yann Vignes Jane Murphy Glen W. Johnson George Zammit John Bowring

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe co-ord.

Standby wardrobe Cutters Seamstresses

Jackline Sassine Gabrielle Dunn Sheryl Pilkinton Loris Perryman Sheryl Pilkinton Loris Perryman

C on struction D e p t

Construct, manager Greensman

Chris Budryss Gregg Thomas

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Asst, editor Edge numberer Sound transfers by Sound design Sound editors

Basia Ozerski Leigh Elmes Soundage Audio Loc Sound Design Tony Vaccher John Dennison

Screen ratio Shooting stock

G o v e rn m e n t A g e n c y In vestm e n t

Development AFC Production AFC Marketing AFC Cast: Victoria Longley (Julia), Angie Milliken (Stephanie), Richard Roxburgh (Harry), Jacqueline McKenzie (Girl), John Jarratt (Mac).

S ynopsis: A conversation, overheard by a stranger, has bizarre and unexpected repercus­ sions on two women’s lives.

TR A P S

Prod, company Budget

Ayer Productions $3.5 million

Principal Credits

Director Producer Line producer Scriptwriters Based on the novel Written by DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designer Composer

Pauline Chan Jim McElroy Tim Sanders Robert Carter Pauline Chan Dreamhouse Kate Grenville Kevin Hayward John Schiefelbein Nicholas Beauman Michael Philips David Rowe Stephen Rae

Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Alison Barrett Casting

Casting P ro d u c tio n Crew

Rosslyn Abernethy Samantha Lukis Samantha Lukis (Vietnam) Melaini Lewis (Australia) Melaini Lewis Location manager Dave Suttor Unit manager Dan Maxwell (Brisbane) Production runners Mary Scott (Nth Qld) Michele D'Arcey Prod, accountant Lee Jefford Accounts asst.

Hammond Jewell Insurer Completion guarantor First Australian Comple­ tion Bond Company Tress, Cocks & Maddox Legal services Jet Aviation Travel co-ord.

Freight co-ord.

Jet Aviation Prod, manager Producer’s asst.

Prod, secretaries

Camera Crew

Camera operator Focus puller Clapper-loader Camera type Key grip Asst grip Gaffer Best boy

Kevin Hayward Richard Bradshaw Chris Hobbs ARRI III Gary Shearsmith John Dolan Graeme Rutherford Steve Gordon

O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity Boom operator Make-up Hairdresser Safety officer Unit nurse Still photography Catering Catering assts.

Chris Short Maria Phillips Sarah Urquhart Daphne Paris Paul Jones Margaret Stevenson Sash Lamey Bob Parsons Maud Biggs Elise Lockwood Kathy Trout Kaos Catering Denise Ward Jill Surch

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Philip Drake Asst art director Georgina Greenhill (Nth Qld) Art dept runners Priscilla Cameron (Brisbane) John Goward (Nth Qld) Props buyer Kristin Reuter Standby props Murray Gosson Armourer Bob Parsons W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe supervisor Standby wardrobe CINEMA

David Rowe Dawn D’Or PAPERS

9 5 . 65

C on struc tion D e p t

Construct, manager Leading hand Carpenters

Michael Ashton Robert Podhajsky Rod Russell Brett Rawlins Martin Bruveris Adam Smigielski Geoffrey Goodhew

Set finisher Painter Labourer P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Asst editor Sound editors

Martin Connor Tim Jordan (dial.)

Julius Chan (fx) Bronwyn Gower Phil Judd Crystal Palace Atlab Kodak

Asst sound editor Mixer Mixed at Laboratory Shooting stock

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Production Marketing Inti, sales agent Inti, distributors

FFC

Total Film & Television Herald Ace (Japan) Ronin (Australasia) Cast: Saskia Reeves (Louise), Robert Reynolds (Michael), Sami Frey (Daniel), Jacqueline McKenzie (Viola), Kiet Lam (Tuan), Hoa Ngo (Tatie Chi).

Synopsis: Louise and Michael Duffield travel to Indochina on a journalistic assignment, but the orderly surface of Vietnam, its people and the couple’s relationship is challenged by disrup­ tions.

radical feminist and experimental filmmaker Eva Sukova committed suicide, leaving behind a curious legacy of avant-garde cinema.

IN L IV IN G M E M O R Y

Prod, company Budget Directors

Scriptwriter DOP. Sound recordist O th e r Credits

Film stock Gauge Equipment Laboratory Telecine

Kodak Eastman, 7294 16mm Lemac Movielab Apocalypse Video 8 Offline editing Waterview Productions Neg matching Movielab Sound mix John Marsh Studios Length 17 mins Cast: Anthony Wheeler (Erwin Ressler), David Wolff (David Mann).

Synopsis: [No details supplied.]

LO OP

O F FS P R IN G

Principal Credits

B AD B O Y BUBBY

RED R A IN S IG N A L O N E

DOCUMENTARIES

Director Producer Exec, producer Scriptwriter DOP Editors

S e e p r e v io u s is s u e f o r d e t a ils o n : BRIEF A L C O H O L IN T E R V E N T IO N IN

Prod, designers

G EN ER A L PRACTICE TEN YEARS O F IN D E P E N D E N T

Composers

F A S H IO N Y O U D O N ’T H A VE T O TA K E IT:

O th e r C redits

D O M E S T IC V IO LE N C E IS W R O N G

Casting Prod, managers

SHORTS FO REVA

Prod, company Obscure Films Dist. co.

Brisbane Independent Filmmakers Principal C redits

Director Producer Scriptwriter Based on Written by DOP Sound recordist Editor Prod, designer Costume designer Composer

Alex Chomicz Alex Chomicz Alex Chomicz Fondle With Care Eva Sukova Damian Wyvill Basil Krivoroutchko Nigel Traill Suzanne Acton Marg Kewley Robert Chomicz

O th e r Credits

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Location manager Camera operator

Nikki Cavenagh Emily Saunders Melani Lewis John Wareham Geoff Owen Focus puller Margaret McGlymont Key grip Grunt Film Grips 1st asst director Wade Savage 2nd asst director Vera Biffone Continuity Liz Perry Make-up Nugget McCabe Blair Maxwell Special fx Sound consultant Ian Grant Recording studio Interzone Studio Laboratory Atlab Cast: Jennifer Bacia (Eva Sukova), Charlie Boyle (Kurt Snide), Jonathan Hardy (Film Critic), Peter Kent (One-armed Man), Daniela Miszkinis (Ice­ cream Girl), Mark Hembrow (Blind Man), Gary Ellis (Project Officer).

S ynopsis: Fearing another attack of the mental illness that haunted her throughout her life, the 66 ■ C I N E M A

PAPERS

95

Chris Wheeler Glenn Fraser Jodie Gero Chris Wheeler Glenn Fraser Chris Wheeler Allen Koppe Matthew Brand

Producer Co-producers

B O D Y MELT

S e e p r e v io u s is s u e s f o r d e ta ils o n :

Streetwise Films $25,000

Principal C redits

Prod, company Dist. company Budget Pre-production Production Post-production

RECENTLY COMPLETED

Location manager Unit manager Prod, assistant Prod, runner Prod, accountant Insurers

VCA AFI $10,000 July 1993 ...

16/7/93-25/7/93 Aug - Sept 1993 Maciej Wszelaki Hugh Burton Jennifer Sabine Maciej Wszelaki Laszlo Baranyai Maciej Wszelaki Martin Hunter Angela Mosenthal Fiona Dunin Stephen Joyce James Blank

Kim Gelvin-Melville Martin Hunter Tas Sideris Camera operator Laszlo Baranyai Camera assistants Sue Roberts Joanne Donahoe Camera type ARRI SR Key grip Chris Poynton Gaffer Brent Houghton Best boy Karl Von Moller 1st asst director Sally Orpin Make-up Phaedra Vance-Murray Catering Ngaere Orlowski Asst editor Kate Toll Edge numberer Oliver Streeton Sound editors Maciej Wszelaki Stephen Joyce Gauge 16mm Screen ratio 1:1.85 Shooting stock Kodak 7222 Cast: Donna McRae (Judy), Dino Marnika (Tom).

Synopsis: A moody tale about Judy and Tom. O N L Y THE BRAVE

Prod, company Pre-production Production Post-production

Pickpocket Productions 12/7/93 ...

6/9/93 - 29/9/93 4/10/93 ...

Principal Credits

Director Producer Consultant prod.

Assoc, producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Art director

Ana Kokkinos Fiona Eagger Chris Warner Rina Reiss Ana Kokkinos Mira Robertson Jaems Grant Phillip Healy Mark Atkin Georgina Campbell

Legal services Camera Crew

Focus puller Key grip Gaffer Best boy Generator operator

Casting

Dina Mann

Prod, manager

Ros Walker

Peter Falk David Cassar Jim Hunt David Lovell David Lovell

O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director Continuity Boom operator Make-up Hairdresser Special fx Stunts co-ord.

Safety officer Still photography Catering Art director Props buyer Standby props

Georgina Campbell Wain Fimeri Vanessa Thomas

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe designer Standby wardrobe

P rincipal Credits

Director Producer Exec, producer Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editor Composer Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Researchers

Peter Rees Wenona Byrne Peter Rees Peter Rees

Shooting schedule by Budgeted by

Margot McCartney Rachel Nott

Prod, co-ordinator Prod, accountant

Craig Carter Jim Currie Cinevex Ian Anderson 1:1.85

Sarah Tindill Alison Bailiache

Camera Crew

Camera operator Focus puller Clapper-loader Camera type

Peter Coleman Peter Coleman Peter Coleman ARRI SR II Sony Betcam LDK 90 Tony Bosch

Key grip C on struction D e p t

Construct, supervisor Studios

Brent Taylor AFTRS

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Post-prod, supervisor Sound editor Narrator Laboratory Gauge

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Sound editor Mixer Laboratory Lab liaison Screen ratio

Wenona Byrne Peter Rees Will Davies Peter Rees Wenona Byrne Peter Coleman Deb Harris Susie Spittle Rowan Walker

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Richard Clendinnen Matthew Bennett Anne Went Cathy South Sandy Royce Sandy Royce Peter Stubbs Mark Hennessy Brett Anderson Rocco Fasano Helen Clark

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Shooting stock Video transfers by Off-line facilities Video special fx

Guy Campbell Cathie Napier Phillip Adams Movielab 16mm SP Beta Kodak 7248 Kodak 7293 Apocalypse Look Film Productions AFTRS

G o vern m en t A g e n cy in vestm e nt

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Development Production

Development Production

AFC AFC Film Victoria Cast: Elena Mandalis (Alex), Dora Kaskanis (Vicki Stefanou), Maude Davey (Miss Kate Groves), Bob Bright (Reg), Helen Athanasiadis (Maria), Tina Zerella (Sylvie), Peta Brady (Tammy).

Synopsis: This is a story about friendship and betrayal .about choices made and the way some people’s choices are stolen from them. It is a story about migrant working class girls who battle the odds even when the odds are stacked up against them. A story about dreams and reality; survivors and casualties.

Australia Council Austalia Council AFTRS Marketing consultant Ian Phipps Cast: [No details supplied.]

Synopsis: A 15 minute television documentary based around the life work of 81 year old Syd­ ney-based artist Ralph Trafford Walker. From the early '30s until the late ’60s Ralph estab­ lished himself as one of this country’s leading sculptors. His credits include the doors to the Mitchell Library in Sydney, and work in New Guinea as an official war artist. In the 1970s he discovered his convict origins, which became the focus of his art.

S O N O F CELLULO ID

S e c p r e v io u s is s u e f o r d e t a ils o n :

Prod, company Budget

Streetwise Films $17,000

KEM BALI U H A T - RETU R N L O O K SIM PLE

Principal Credits

Director Producers

Scriptwriter DOP Sound recordist Editors

S P R IN G BALL

Chris Wheeler Jodie Gero Chris Wheeler Glenn Fraser Chris Wheeler Glenn Fraser Matthew Brand Glenn Fraser Stewart Binsted

FILM AUSTRALIA

P rincipal Credits

Grip Grant Chapman Special fx Greg Taylor Armourer Adam Dalton Video stock Betacam (Kodak) Equipment Lemac Offline editing Waterview Productions Online editing Pilgrim Post Length 8 mins Cast: Eden Rabatsch, Cameron McAuliffe, Justyne Gilchrist, Kurt Cumming, Cameron Beattie.

Synopsis: [No details supplied.]

Directors

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AUSTRALIAN FILM TELEVISION & RADIO SCHOOL C O N V IC T S (w o r k in g t i t l e )

Prod, companies Dist. company Budget

Never Too Proud Look Film Productions AFTRS $15,000 plus facilities

1

ESCAPE FR O M JUPITER

Prod, company Dist. company Pre-production Production Post-production

O th e r Credits

Planning and D e v e lo p m e n t P ro d u c tio n Crew

Greg Ellis Reel Wheels Arianna Bosi Arianna Bosi Mandy Carter David Oliver Mandy Robertson Dan Pearce Holding & Redlich

Producer Exec, producers Scriptwriters

Prod, designer

Film Australia Film Australia 19/4/93 ...

14/6/93 ...

20/9/93 ...

Kate Woods Fumitaka Tamura Terry Jennings Ron Saunders Kagari Taiima John Patterson David Ogilvy Martin Daley Kazuo Sasaki

O th e r C redits

Casting Prod, manager Asst hairdressers Special fx

Liz Mullinar Consultants Cathy Flannery Dale Duguid Ian Thorburn Photon Stockman 1ft mm /1"

G aunes

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e n t

Development Production

Film Australia N.H.K. FFC

M a rk e tin g

Marketing exec.

Kim Henderson

Inti, distributor Film Australia Publicity Lesna Thomas S ynopsis: When a mining colony on Jupiter’s moon, lo, explodes, five children and their par­ ents are forced to flee to a derelict space station in orbit above them. They hastily convert it into a life raft, and embark on a hazardous voyage across the solar system to Earth.

NSW FILM & TELEVISION OFFICE S e e p r e v io u s is s u e f o r d e t a ils o n : TH E A L C O H O L /C R IM E C O N N E C T IO N D E LIV E R IN G C O M P E TIT IV E ADVANTAGE FO R W H O S E SAKE? IN T E R V IE W IN G SKILLS FO R SYSTEM S JU S T A N O T H E R D O M E S T IC W ORKCO VER P R O M O

TELEVISION PRODUCTION TH E

a d v e n t u r e s o f b l i n k y b il l

(s e rie s )

Prod, company Dist. company

Yoram Gross Film Studios Beyond Distribution EM-Entertainment (Europe)

Principal Credits

Director Producer Exec, producers Editors Composer

Yoram Gross Yoram Gross Sandra Gross Tim Brooke-Hunt G. Y. Jerzy Kouichi Kashiwa Guy Gross

O th e r C redits

Storyboard artists

Character design

Background design Background artists

Background assts Layout supervisor Layout artists

Animations directors

Senior animators

Susan Beak John Burge Steve Lumley Henry Neville Ray Nowland Gerard Piper Harry Rasmussan Robert Smlt Sue Beak Athol Henry Cynthia Leech Ray Nowland Robert Smit Robert Qiu Paul Cheng Amber Ellis Richard Zaloudek Ga Hee Lim Miroslav Kucera Bob Fosbery Junko Aoyama Steve Lumley Sue Beak Paul Maron Patrick Burns Gerard Piper Michael Dunn Darek Polkowski Paul Fitzgerald Robert Qiu Glen Lovett Kay Lovett Fiona Quigley Ray Van Steenwyk Susan Beak Darek Polkowski Patrick Burns Andrew Szemenyei Athol Henry Maria Szemenyei Junko Aoyama Robert Malherb Susan Beak Paul Maron Jill Bell Dang Phuong Patrick Burns Darek Polkowski Gerry Grabner Michaela Stefanova Nicholas Harding Andrew Szemenyei Athol Henry Maria Szemenyei Cynthia Leech

Bun Heang Ung Evgeni Lirikov Stan Walker Animators Michael Dunn Adam Rapson Greg Ingram Jung-Ae Ro Wally Logue Andrew Szabo Kay Lovett Amanda Thompson Philip Peters Elizabeth Urbanczyk Stella Wakil David Witt Additional dialogue Colour styling Gail Hall Belinda Price Katrinka Beerens Asst colour stylists Rebecca Newbry Michelle Price Track reading Ian Spruce List test operator Margaret Antoniak Camera charts Cam Ford Paul McAdam Mlml Intal Graphics Prod, supervisor Julia Gelhard Prod, manager Lea Rosie Alice Borkert Producer’s asst Kathleen Bourke Exec, producers’ assts Kate McCarthy Therese MacLaine Accountant Janusz Antoniak Studio management Jan Wieczorek Marzena Domaradzka Assistant editor Sound mixer Simon Leadley Tim Ryan Sound editors Ian Spruce Trackdown Studios Audio post-prod.

Animation servicesColorland Animation Productions Laboratory Atlab Lab liaison Denise Wolfson Completion guarantor Film Finances

Prod, accountant Accounts asst Insurers Completion guarantor Tutor Camera Crew

Focus puller Clapper-loader Key grip Asst grips Gaffer Best boy Generator operator

THE BATTLERS (m in i-s e r ie s )

Prod, company Dist. company Budget Pre-production Production Post-production

SAFC Productions London Films $4.1 million April 1993 ...

June 1993 ...

August 1993 ...

Principal C redits

George Ogilvie Gus Howard Errol Sullivan Des Monaghan Ross Dimsey (London Films) Peter Yeldman Scriptwriter The Battlers Based on Kylie Tennant Written by Roger Dowling DOP Toivo Lember Sound recordist Denise Haratzis Editor Richard Roberts Prod, designer Anna French Costume designer Carl Vine Composer Director Producer Exec, producers

Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Casting Extras casting

Faith Martin & Assoc.

Audine Leith Michael McDermott

P ro d u c tio n Crew

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Prod, secretary Location manager Unit manager Unit assts Prod, runners

Elizabeth Symes Sally Clarke Heather Muirhead Mason Curtis Gary Buss Tim Stanley Deb Hanson Chris Corin

John Foster Rod Bolton Robin Morgan Robbie Van Amstel John Smith Graeme Shelton Andrew Smith Keith “Sooty” Johnson

O n -s e t Crew

1st asst director 2nd asst director 3rd asst director Continuity Boom operator Make-up Make-up asst Hairdresser Hair asst Special fx supervisor Special fx Stunts co-ordinator Safety Unit nurse Still photography Unit publicist Catering

Toby Pease Karan Monkhouse Christie McGuiness Joanne McLennan Des Kenneally Wendy Freeman Sue Taylor Fiona Rees-Jones Sue Taylor Peter Stubbs Jeff Little Zev Eleftheriou Zev Eleftheriou Jenny Bichard Simon Caldwell Victoria Buchan Steve Marcus John Tan

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Design asst Art dept asst Art dept runner Set dresser Props buyers

G o vern m en t A g e n cy In vestm e nt

NSW Film & Television Development Production FFC Cast: Keith Scott, Robin Moore (Character Voices).

Synopsis: The plot of the television series takes up where the film leaves off. The animals, reu­ nited again after the destruction of their village, have chosen a site for their new home and are cautiously settling in. It is also about how these animals re-establish themselves as a commu­ nity. It is about how they pick up the threads of old relationships and how they get involved again in the world around them.

Rosetta Ashton Sharon Jackson Chris McGuire Webster Hyde Richard Hyde Antonia Barnard Film Finances Josi Robson

Standby props Asst standby props

Ken James Michael Chomey Luba Chorney Yuri Poetzl Ian Jobson Chris Webster Daryl Mills John Santuccl Peter Santucci

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe supervisor Art finisher Standby wardrobe Asst standby ward.

Cutter Seamstresses

Marion Boyce Lynn Munro Julie Barton Kelly Foreman Tracey Richardson Angela Winter Cherie Caldow

A nim als

Luke Hura Bill Willoughby Shane Cooper

Dog trainer Horse master Horse wrangler C on struction D e p t

Scenic artist Construct, manager Carpenters Set finishers Studios

John Haratzis Arthur Vette Rory Forest Michael Braddock Ben Johnson Ben Resch SAFC

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Asst editor Sound editor Mixer Mixed at Laboratory Lab liaison Neg on-line facility Grader Film gauge Screen ratio Shooting stock Video transfers by Off-line facilities

Jason Ballantyne Frank Lipson Peter D. Smith SAFC Cinevex Ian Anderson Network 8 Noel McWhirter 16mm 12:1 Agfa Complete Post Network 8

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Development Production

AFC Australian Television Network FFC Fllmsouth SAFC

M a rk e tin g

Inti, distributor

London Films

Cast: Jacqueline McKenzie (Dancy), Gary Sweet

(Snow), Marcus Graham (Busker), Audine Leith (Dora), Peter Stonham (Jimmy).

Synopsis: A love story set In the 1930s depres­ sion, based on Kylie Tennant’s 1941 novel The

Battlers.

P A R A D IS E BEACH

Prod, company Dist. company Pre-production Production Post-production

Paradise Beach Productions New World Entertainment 4/1/93 - 14/3/93 15/3/93-17/9/93 15/4/93-4/10/93

Principal C redits

Andrew Friedman Chris Langman Steve Mann Riccardo Pelllzzerl Jock Blair Graham Burke Greg Coote Nick McMahon Michael Lake Jo Porter Various Mark Wareham Ian Grant Graeme Hicks Suzanne Flanery Andrew MacNeil Tony Read Rondor Music

Directors

Producer Exec.producers

Assoc, producer Scriptwriters DOP Sound recordists Editors Art director Music supplied by

Planning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Rick Maier Alexa Wyatt Maura Fay & Assoc.

John Dommett Michael Lake

Script editors Casting Dialogue coach Budgeted by P ro d u c tio n Crew

Michael Lake David Watts Barbara Lucas Liza McLean Lara Griffin Ron Stigwood Graham Ellery Margie Beattie Pat Passlow Payola Rhonda Fortescue Payola Hammond Jewell Phillips Fox Show Travel Show Freight

Prod, supervisor Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Producer’s asst Prod, secretary Location manager Unit manager Production runner Prod, accountant Accounts asst Paymaster Insurer Legal services Travel co-ordinator Freight co-ordinator Camera Crew

Camera operators

Michael Healey Brent Cox Paul Howard David Elmes Bede Haines Grant Nielson Jacon Parry John Bryden-Brown Michael Baker

Focus puller Camera assistant Key grip Asst grip Gaffer Electrician O n -s e t Crew

1st asst directors

Amle Custo Colin Phillips Clinton White Peter Nathan Wade Savage Vera Biffone Karen Mansfield Jenni Fraser Lyn Aronson Geoff Fairweather Sydney McDonald Lynne O'Brien Egon Dahm Maree McDonald Bob Hicks Jason Boland Double PR Photography Marina Glass Anne Maree Moon Feast Film Catering

2nd asst directors Continuity

Boom operators Make-up Make-up asst Safety officer Still photography Unit publicists Catering A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Asst art director Graphics Art dept co-ord Art dept runner Set dressers Props buyers Standby props

Tony Read Jo Fairburn Jo Fairburn Jennifer des Champs Danny Cairns Georgia Strachan (studio) Justine Dunn (location) Jan McKay (location) Gerard Brown (studio) John Anderson (location) Alison Pickup (studio)

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 . 67

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe supervisor Wardrobe buyer Standby wardrobe

Phil Eagles Phil Eagles Helen Maines Linda Walton Penny Neilson

Wardrobe asst

Prod, accountant Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services

Adam Smigielski Andrew Gardiner

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Editing assts

Robert Monson Geoff Lamb Vic Kaspar Stefan Kluka T revor Harrison Brad Howard (Promos) Keith Bennett Peter Robinson Brett Straughan Helen Reeves Warren Pearson Mandy Rollins

Sound editors Mixers

On-line editors

Facilities manager Music editor Asst music editor

Focus puller Clapper-loader Camera type Key grip Gaffers Best boys Electrician Generator operator

1st asst directors

2nd asst directoY

Production

3rd asst director Continuity

Marketing Inti, sales agent New World Entertainment Inti, distributor New World Entertainment Publicity Marina Glass Cast: Robert Coleby (Tom Barsby), Tiffany Lamb (Lisa Whitman), Andrew McKaige (Nick Barsby), Jon Bennett (Kirk Barsby), Kimberley Joseph (Cassie Barsby), Megan Connolly (Tori Hayden), Ingo Rademacher (Sean Hayden), Raelee Hill (Loretta Taylor), John Holding (Roy McDermott), Tony Hayes (Grommet Ritchie).

Synopsis: Paradise Beach, where the perfect white sand stretches for miles: the music is hot and the party just goes on, where teenagers from everywhere converge to cut loose, find the perfect wave, and fall hopelessly in love. That’s what happens with our four young, passionate central characters and their friends.

S H IP T O S H O R E (s c r ie s )

Prod, company Dist. company Budget Pre-production Production Post-production

Barron Films (Television) Barron Films (Television) $6.5 million 22/2/93 ...

5/4/93 ... ... 12/93

P rincipal Credits

Directors

Producers Exec, producer Scriptwriters

DOP Sound recordist Editors

Prod, designer Composer

Amanda Smith Glenda Hambly Ron Elliott Karl Zwicky Mike Smith Geoffrey Nottage David Rapsey Barbi Taylor Paul D. Barron John Rapsey Everett De Roche Glenda Hambly Judith MacCrossin Geoffrey Nottage M. Morris D. Phillips D. Mars C. Wilkins J. Cundhill B. Bishop Brad Pearce Gary Carr Geoff Hall David Fosdick Lawrie Silvestrin Tim Ferrier Greg Schultz

P lanning an d D e v e lo p m e n t

Barbara Bishop David Rapsey

Script editors P ro d u c tio n Crew

Prod, supervisor Prod, manager Prod, secretary Producer's asst Location manager Transport manager Unit manager Prod, assistant Production runner

68 • C I N E M A

Trish Carney Kerry Bevan Toni Raynes Faye Grant-Williams Jane Sullivan Tony Rhodes Aubrey T redget David Maughan Margot Evans

PAPERS

95

Peter Goodall Bob Kohler Steve Peddie Danny Featherstone ARRI SR2 David Cross Guy Bessell-Browne Colin Williams Clive Rippon Jo Mercurio Craig Irvine Greg McKie

Prod, company Pre-production Production

ACTF Productions 15/2/93 ...

26/4/93 ...

Principal C redits

Directors

Mario Andreacchio Julian McSwiney Steve Jodrell Patricia Edgar Margot McDonald Patricia Edgar Jeff Peck Tony Morphett Jan Sardi Mac Gudgeon Jutta Goetze Christine Madafferi Ray Bosley Cameron Clarke Stephen Measday Rick Maier Peter Hepworth Sue Hore Shane Brennan Nicola Woolmington Susan Macgillicuddie Deborah Cox Robert Greenberg David Foreman Nino Martinetti John Phillips Edward McQueen-Mason Ralph Strasser Peta Lawson Kerri Mazzocco

Producers Exec, producer Scriptwriters

O n -s e t Crew

G o v e rn m e n t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Revolving Film Fund, Qld Government

S ynopsis: The adventures of kids who live on Circe Island, a communications base off the coast of Western Australia.

SKYTRACKERS (s e rie s )

Camera Crew

Camera operators

C o n s tru c tio n D e p t

Scenic artist Construct, manager

Robyn McFadgen Hannan & Co Film Finances R. Garton Smith & Co.

Boom operator Make-up Make-up assts Safety officer Unit nurse Still photography Unit publicist Catering

Jamie Crooks Michael Faranda Stuart Freeman Paul Healey Clinton White Vikki Barr Noni Roy Judith Whitehead Julie Feddersen Jenny Sutcliffe Karen Sims Cassandra Clements Christine Lynch Peter West Giancarlo Mazzella Skip Watkins Jan Rogers Runcible Spoon

A r t D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Art dept runner Props persons

Props buyers

Props dressers

Standby props

Diaan Wajon Samantha Forrest Clayton Jauncey Nigel Devenport Tania Ferrier Clayton Jauncey Nigel Devenport Tania Ferrier Clayton Jauncey Nigel Devenport Tania Ferrier Kelvin Sexton

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe supervisor Standby wardrobe Wardrobe asst

Helen Mather Lisa Galea Vivienne Rintoul

Anim als

Animal handler

Jim Maher

C on struc tion D e p t

Scenic artists Construct, manager Carpenters

Construct, asst Brushhand

Phillip Hope Lee Hope Steve Rice Grant Longley Brett Gibbins Tom Wiliams Matthew McGuire Tom Williams

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Supervising editor Asst editor Sound editors Asst sound editors Foley Mixer Mixed at Laboratory Lab Liaison Gauge Screen ratio Shooting stock Print stock

Geoff Hall Meredith Watson Greg Bell James Harvey Rose Ferrell Kim Lord Kim Lord ABC Perth Cinevex Ian Anderson 16mm

10:1 ECN 7248, 7293 Apocalypse

DOPs Sound recordist Editors Prod, designer Costume designer

Planning a n d D e v e lo p m e n t

Script consultants

Jeff Peck Esben Storm Robert Greenberg Christine Madafferi Liz Mullinar Julie Forsyth

Script editors Casting Dialogue coach P ro d u c tio n Crew

Prod, manager Prod, co-ordinator Prod, secretaries Location manager Unit manager Asst unit manager Production runner Prod, accountant Insurer Completion guarantor Legal services

Travel co-ord.

Camera Crew

Focus pullers

Liddy Van Gyen Warwick Field Helen Carter Richard Cornelissen Arriflex 16SR

Clapper-loaders Camera type

Production

Generator operator O n -s e t Crew 1st asst directors

2nd asst director 3rd asst directors Continuity Boom operator Make-up Hairdresser Special fx

Safety officer Unit nurse Still photography Unit publicist Catering

Phil Jones Ian Kenny Rob Visser Andrew Power Damien Grant Anne Went Paul Harding Steve Vaughan Kirsten Veysey Cheryl Williams Peter Stubbs Paul Nichola Michael Bladen Eddie Macshortall Catherine Marshall Greg Noakes Patricia Webb A.C.T.F. Food for Film

A rt D e p a rtm e n t

Art director Art dept co-ord.

Art dept runner Set dressers

Draftsman Standby props

Victoria Hobday Allison Pye Paul Macak Denise Goody Richie Dehne Shane Aumont Jeff Thorpe Tim Disney Vanessa Thomas

W a rd ro b e

Wardrobe supervisor Standby wardrobe

Sandi Cicheilo Isobel Carter

A nim als

Horse wrangler

Evanne Chesson

C on struc tion D e p t

Scenic artist Construct, manager Foremen Carpenters

Set finisher Brushhand

Gus Lobb Walter Sperl Robin Hartley Martin Kellock Frank Savage Godric Cole Jim Bartholemew Phil Hyde Jim Gannon Andrew Walpole

P o s t-p ro d u c tio n

Sound transfers by Laboratory Video post-prod.

Lab liaison Shooting stock

Soundfirm Cinevex AAV Ian Anderson Kodak

G o vern m en t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Production Inti, distributor

Jenny Buckland ■ A.C.T.F. Cast: Steve Jacobs (Tony Masters), Anna Maria Monticelli (Marie Colbert), Zbych Trofimuik (Mike Masters), Petra Jared (Nikki Colbert), EmilyJane Romig (Maggie Masters).

S ynopsis: A 26 x 30 mins space adventure series revolving around two families.

NEGTHINK'S C O M PUTER M ATCHBACK' SYSTEM S c a n s K e y k o d e ™ in 1 6 m m , s u p e r 1 6 m m o r 3 5 m m

ABC Inti.

Paragon Inti.

Cast: Clinton Voss (Kelvin), Jodi Herbert (Julie), Cleonie Morgan-Wootton (Babe), Heath Miller (Ralph), Greg Carroll (Hermes), Ewen Leslie (Guido), Christie Pitts (Sally), Kimberley Stark (Geraldine), Ronald Underwood (Billy), Louise Miller (Ms Selby).

fr o m E D L S p r o d u c e d b y a ll lin e a r o r r

n o n lin e a r e d itin g s y s te m s .

Nì iii H IM JU1

11

FFC

M a rk e tin g

P r o d u c in g F r a m e A c c u r a t e N e g c u ttin g lis ts WAFC ABC FFC ABC

M a rk e tin g

Inti, distributors

Best boys

Jon Goldney Scott Brokate Brian Adams Nick Payne Tim Morrison Antony Tulloch Antony Tulloch

Neg Matching to Offline Edit or Cutting Copy

G o v e rn m e n t A g e n c y In vestm e nt

Development

Yvonne Collins Amanda Crittenden Tania Vujic-Powell Kerri Ryan Stephen Brett Kevin Morrison Andy Pappas Joey Heffernan Sophie Siomos Moneypenny Services Steeves Lumley Film Finances Jenny Buckland Paul Walsh A.C.T.F. Greg Helmers Traveltoo

Key grip Asst grip Gaffers

111 1l PTY LTD

PH: (02) 439 3988 FAX: (02) 437 5074

1 0 5 / 6 C LA R K E S TR E ET C RO W S NEST NSW 2065

Edit Advise has the track record to get you off the cutting room floor.

“LEX & RORY”- 35mm feature Editor and Post Production Supervision “6 DEGREES of SEPARATION” Technical assistance “WHITE FANG” Technical assistance “Producers who take advantage o f non­ linear editing are spending less time and money as well as expanding their options. ’ E d it A d v ise is n o w lo c a te d in th e ir o w n p re m is e s a t 1 7 0 D o r c a s S tre e t S o u th M e lb o u r n e , 3 2 0 5 .

T r a n s p o r t a b le L ig h tw o r k s A v a ila b le C a ll B a r r y o r J o h n a t E d it A d v ise a b o u t y o u r p o s t p r o d u c tio n n e e d s.

Phone 03 6 9 6 9 3 5 7 F ax 03 6 9 6 9 3 5 8

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2 0 Y e a rs s e rv ic e to t h e M o ti o n P ic t u r e I n d u s t r y " ^

Titling graphic Specialists Pty. Ltd

• • • • •

1 0 0 0 Typefaces on line Extensive Proofing system Accept IBM or MAC Files for discount All formats including anamorphic Quoting a pleasure

5 Chuter St, McMahons Point, North Sydney, NSW 2060

Phone: (02) 922 3144

Fax: (02) 957 5001

M o b ile 0 1 8 3 7 7 1 3 3

CINEMA

PAPERS

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. FRED H A R D E N

A Local International Success he vo te s are in. T h e e ve nt billed as the International C in e m a ­ to g ra p h e rs ’ Forum , w hich ran from 27 Ju n e to 4 Ju ly at the

Pictures “There’s only one director of photography on a picture - so you don't ever get to meet any of your counterparts.”

A u stra lia n Film T e le visio n & R adio S chool, has been co unted as a hit. By now you m ay have seen o th e r reports but the depth of ta le nt th a t th e H ead of C in e m a to g ra p h y at A FT R S , J o s e f D em ian, pulled

However much of a fact of real life this may be, it certainly wasn’t the case at the Australian Film Television & Radio School (AFTRS) in July. For

to g e th e r fo r th a t w e e k o f lectures and d iscussion d e m an d s “T e c h n ic a li­

a week, participants were surrounded by the

tie s ” space. If like m e you w ere unable to attend, the fla v o u r and w isdom

world’s greatest cinematographers, and the only thing more remarkable than the similarity of the

of the w e e k is e vid e n t here in D om inic C a s e ’s jou rn a l of highlights, and

themes they all touched upon was the extreme

a m ix of lecture and inte rvie w th a t L in d sa y A m o s con du cted w ith the

differences they were able to put into shooting the deceptively simple set in the studio.

p o p u la r hit of th e forum , A llen D aviau. Lin d sa y also spoke at length w ith R obby M üller, but th a t w ill have to w ait fo r a later issue.

Together with the participants for the week were Geoff Burton, Allen Daviau, Peter James,

N otable in D o m in ic ’s piece is the strong part in the de ba te played by

Denis Lenoir, Robby Müller, Sacha Vierny, and, for much of the tim e, Russell Boyd and

¿Australian D O P s (if th e y are not quoted here at length it’s because th e y

Christopher Doyle. Other prominent Australian

w ill be). W h ile having n a tion a listic pride and being a bit p re cious about

cinematographers there included Erika Addis,

o u r local D O Ps, it w as o b vio u sly co n clu d e d from the panel d iscu ssio ns th a t th e y w ere no b e tte r at e lu cid atin g the Big T h e m e s than the foreign

Kim Batterham, Josef Demian, David Gribble, Steve Mason, Ellery Ryan . . . the list goes on.

The mornings were spent in lighting work­ shops, when participants worked with the inter­

guests.

E xperience w ould s u g g e s tth a t hoping fo r co n clusions from any bunch o f artists on a to p ic like “S hooting th e A u stra lia n O u tb a c k ” w ould be d o o m e d to fa ilu re and the a sse m ble d panel on this o ccasion w as no

national guests, and in the afternoons and evenings we saw an eclectic selection of films showing the guests’ work, and learnt a little of their approaches to their work.

This report is necessarily selective: I have

exception. T he discussion along the w ay, how ever, sounded like enough

highlighted and synthesized some of the techni­

reason to a tte m p t it.

cal aspects of the sessions, particularly in the

T h e d ire cto r of p h o to g ra p h y w alks a line betw een c o m m e rce and art,

way the cinematographer uses the technology of film - the film stocks, special processing,

betw een individual a ch ie ve m e nt and team results. The final result can be

camera speeds, colour effects and so on - and

sh o t dow n in m any w ays: technically, by producers and directors, or even

the way in which all the guests described their relationships with directors, designers, and op­

th e va g a rie s of th e s ta r s y s te m . To ask them to then explain the process,

erators. There was much more, with quite de­

o th e r than from th e ir individual e xp e rie n ce on a p a rticu la r job, is asking

tailed descriptions of how particular technical

a lot. This b a la n cin g act is w h a t th e y do best and it a p p e a rs from the

problems were solved, and how the cinematog­ raphers used lighting techniques through their

reports th a t th e individual se ssio n s w ere the g re a te st su cce ss of the

film to tell the story.

All the guests were quite unrestrained in their

Forum .

A n y a cco m p lish e d ind u stry person ta lking fre e ly a b o u t how th e y w o rk

sharing of expertise and experience: Allen Daviau spoke for hours at a time, keeping the capacity

a llo w s you to place y o u r ow n w o rk in p e rspective. G ossip and a n ecd o te

audience entranced; Sacha Vierny spoke only in

play th e ir parts in th e learning process as w ell.

French, and Kari Hanet did an excellent job in

T h e C in e m a to g ra p h e rs ’ Forum sh ould be an annual (or a t least

interpreting. Many of the guests, when not presenting their own work, were in the audience

regular) e ve n t to u te d aro un d th e w orld. N ext tim e I bet I’m not the only

learning from the others. This conference must

one w h o w ill w a lk on co a ls to be there. O u r th a n ks go to J o se f D em ian

go down as one of the great successes of the

and all th e others w ho o rg an ize d it.

70 . C I N E M A

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95

f re d

harden

AFTRS, and a significant contribution to the film culture of Australia.

3 I

^NATIONAL CINEMATOGRAPHERS’ FORUM BELOW, LEFT TO RIGHT: ALLEN DAVIAU, RUSSELL BOYD, DENIS LENOIR AND ROBBY MÜLLER.

and Words On colour and black & white It is strange that, in an art form that began its life without the ability to reproduce colour, there should now be so much energy devoted to dis­ cussing the presence or absence of colour, and the control of it. The most strikingly coloured film of the week was The Cook The Thief His Wife & Her Lover (1989), shot by Sacha Vierny for Peter Greenaway. The restaurant is richly draped

Chris Doyle had used coloured lights in the stage piece Peach Blos­ som Land, that opened the forum, to augment the theatrical nature of the story. He noted that straight stage lighting was

too

dark

and

in red, the kitchen is as dominantly green, the

contrasty, and the col­

night exteriors blue, and the restaurant toilet is a powerfully over-lit white. Sacha shrugged it

oured lights, acceptable in live theatre, caused

off, “It’s what’s in the script”, but the colours stem from his use of a variety of different shades of

focusing problems on

coloured gel, as well as the colours chosen by the set designer. The variety of shades pre­ vented the scenes from being monochromatic.

the film. Robby Muller explained that heavy red gels caused a slight shift in focus, and lenses had to be calibrated specially: this is all the more critical as often you have the lens wide open to offset the filter factor.

By comparison, the closing fea­

wanted Denis Lenoir to shoot Monsieur Hire (1989), in black and white, but a potential televi­ sion release required colour. They considered the colourization process (which would have

ture, Broken Highway (Laurie Mclnnes, 1993), shot by Steve Mason, was in black and white.

been an interesting twist to the argument over the artistic ethics of colourizing old movies), but this was too expensive. Eventually, Denis hit upon the technique of bleach-bypassing. For

Steve worked for every bit of con­ trast possible in this film, aiming for a sense of unreality and alienation.

this film, the negative was processed normally, but the prints received only 50 per cent of the normal bleach time, resulting in a dark sombre

It is clear that black and white of­ fers all this and more; the process is capable of as many subtle de­

look, with very muted colours. To keep this in check, Denis used coloured gels over lights,

grees of image control as the col­ our stocks were shown to have during the week.

Director Patrice Leconte had ROBBY MÜLLER

shooting on 5294 for the extra speed to offset the filter factors. The set was dressed with some vivid colours, and faces had extra make-up to avoid a “dead” look. Lenoir explained that mid­ tones are all greyer in the process, “like painting with gouache” , while shadows are deeper.

Bleach-bypass seems to have been in vogue:

TO U C H Y TERMS

Chris Doyle had spoken of the process as he used it in East Meets West, after experiments in a music video. However, Chris was unable to

Cinem a P a p e rs e d i t o r S c o t t M u r r a y t h a t w e u s e t h e t e r m

have all the prints treated, and so settled on ah

" c i n e m a t o g r a p h e r " ( l i t e r a l l y " c in e m a - m a k e r " ) in t e r c h a n g e a b l y f o r " d i r e c t o r o f p h o t o g r a ­

unbleached interpos. Steve Mason, on the other

p h y " . I ’v e a lw a y s u s e d t h e t e r m s D O P o r c a m e r a m a n t o e x p la i n t h e d i f f e r e n t w e i g h t o f

hand', had bypassed bleaching the original nega­ tive for a flashback sequence on Strictly Ball­ room (Baz Luhrmann, 1992), as well as parts of

I t ’s b e e n

m ild ly in f u r i a t i n g t o

r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r t h e im a g e - m a k in g o n a p r o j e c t . C a ll- s h e e t s h a v e t h e s a m e p r o b l e m : w h a t d o y o u c a ll a f e m a l e c a m e r a m a n ? I f c a m e r a p e r s o n is t h e g e n d e r l e s s , p r e f e r r e d a lt e r n a t iv e , I f e e l it d o e s n ’t d e s c r i b e t h e r ô l e w e l l e n o u g h ; it c o u l d b e a n y o n e o n t h e c a m e r a c r e w : a s s is t a n t , f o c u s p u l l e r , c l a p p e r - l o a d e r , e t c .

Redheads (Danny Vendramini, 1992). In Ball­ room, this provided a different lookfrom the vivid

I ’v e b e e n g u i l t y o f u s in g t h e t e r m c i n e m a t o g r a p h e r t o d i s t in g u is h b e t w e e n t h e d i f f e r e n t

colours of the rest of the film. It seems to me that

w e i g h t o f i n p u t o n , s a y , a c o r p o r a t e d o c u m e n t a r y (a s o p p o s e d t o a f e a t u r e ) , w h e r e t h e t e r m

bleach-bypassing the negative will brighten high­

" d i r e c t o r o f p h o t o g r a p h y " is p r e t e n t i o u s a n d n o t u s e d . " C a m e r a o p e r a t o r " im p lie s t h a t t h e r e

lights rather than deepen shadows. Mason’s experience was that the stock gained a lot of speed in the process.1

is a D O P a r o u n d . D o e s a n y o n e h a v e s u i t a b l e s u g g e s t i o n s o r d o w e j u s t r o ll o v e r a n d u s e “c i n e m a t o g r a p h e r ” t o d e s c r i b e a B e t a c a m c a m e r a w o m a n ?

Before starting a film, Robby Muller asks CINEMA

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9 5 . 71

“Why is this in colour?” This led to a discussion of the (then East) German Orwo black & white stock. Planning a film set in 1940s Warsaw, he had tested the stock, processed in Munich, and found it “incredibly beautiful”. Apparently, Orwo had kept developing and improving the stock when Western manufacturers had directed all development to colour emulsions. However, the distributors had insisted on colour.

new position, and on the day we were ready for a big dolly shot through the walls, with amber filters on all the lights outside. Then the sun came out from nowhere, just as we were to start the shot. It was about T/4.5 in the gloomy mis­ sion hut inside, and about 16 outside, and the sun was right behind the cross at the end of the dolly ...

And on black faces In one of the best phrases of the week, Allen Daviau described the difficulties of filming black faces as “photochemical racism” . His technique with Whoopi Goldberg in The Color Purple (Steven Spielberg, 1985) depended upon the production designer: the sets were dressed with darker-than-usual walls, so that he could light

On filming the outback in Australia

the faces brighter without the entire set appear­

This was the most successful panel discussion, with Geoff Burton, Robby Müller, Denis Lenoir and Russell Boyd, and much participation from

positioning of fill lights to give direct reflections in the faces. Full marks, though, to Peter James for a practical solution to the problem of lighting

the audience. However, as with the other panel discussions during the week, little was resolved.

Hoke (Morgan Freeman), the black chauffeur, together with Miss Daisy (Jessica Tandy) in

We heard that the inevitable worries about

Horror Show (Jim Sharman, 1975), shot in col­

lighting ratios in the harsh sun could be avoided

Driving Miss Daisy (Bruce Beresford, 1989). He needed about two stops more light for Hoke’s

our, which had been designed as a strictly mono­

with reflectors (so long as they were sky blue), fill lights (if you could get enough) or polarizers

face, but, finding that Jessica Tandy was over a foot shorter than Morgan Freeman, Petersimply

(so long as they didn’t kill skin textures) - a

netted the bottom of the key lights, leaving Tandy’s face in relative shadow.

At the Designer/Director/DOP forum earlier in the week, Brian Thomson had shown two very different clips. One was from one of my favourite short films, The Shadow Knows, a black & white film noir shot by Russell Boyd, in which the style of the image was set by Brian’s reported first question to Russ of “What are all those lights for?” . The other was a section from The Rocky

chrome sequence until a last-minute change of heart. They threw down a red carpet and filled the set with brightly-coloured props - “and so a cult was born”. Unfortunately, this clip was shown

controversial point.

Arguments about using the widescreen for­

on video, and the coloured props were almost indistinguishable from the grey ones.

mats were unresolved: Russell argued that the Australian landscape was full of interest as you

On changing exposures

filmed The Back of Beyond {John Heyer, 1954)

Allen Daviau drew attention to a long pan and

got to know it; he recalled that Ross Woods had

track shot in Avalon (Barry Levinson, 1990) that

in Academy ratio very successfully, using high horizons. Robby found it difficult to fill a ’scope

required a 3-stop aperture pull from a dark room round into a sunlit cloister. “Opening up is just

the audience insisted that ’scope was wasted on

the same as the human eye adjusting - and it’s cheaper than lighting the dark room.” He highly recommended a Swedish device called the Hayden Stop Changer, and used the technique

screen; Denis said, “It’s easy!” A speaker from desert landscapes, which were always too empty to make good pictures, but Geoff Burton coun­ tered that Freddie Young had made good pic­ tures in Lawrence of Arabia (David Lean, 1962).

frequently.

On the same subject came this quote from Peter James, after screening Black Robe (Bruce

From the audience, Martha Ansara voiced concern that visiting cinematographers “col­

Beresford, 1992):

lect exotic butterflies, rather than deal with the

Did you see the aperture pull in the last sh ot... it’s a wonderful shot. It probably changed my life.

The young priest had a dream, and the vision appears in the last shot. We needed sun. The weather was closing in. Two weeks beforehand, I asked Billy Two Rivers [Canadian Indian spokes­ person and consultant on the film] for sun. We moved the cross outside the Huron Mission to a 72 • C I N E M A

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95

lected” the landscape much as they might col­

ing over-lit. By contrast, Kim Batterham, lighting Black River (Kevin Lucas, 1993), took care with

On different frame rates and other times Chris Doyle and Allen Daviau both described an under-cranking technique: Chris had filmed a martial arts fight sequence at about 10 frames per second and then had the sequence optically stretch printed - every frame twice - to produce a slightly speeded-up ‘strobe’ effect, which em­ phasized the exaggerated actions. For a subtly different effect in Avalon, Allen had filmed the opening sequence - set in 1914 - at 15 fps (exactly half the U.S. mains frequency, thus avoiding flicker problems with HMI lights), and then stretch-printed back to nearly the normal speed. This gave a very slightly fast but jerky movement, undeniably reminiscent of silent films, and setting the film very clearly in its time. The

issues that the land represented. Denis Lenoir suspected though that he had been hired for

scenes of the Thanksgiving Day firework dis­

Dingo because he would not make the land­

plays were very impressive in this process.

scape look pretty. Robby Müller complained that

Special techniques are often used to give this

(on Wim Wenders’ Until the End of the World, 1992) “ I had wanted to show how fucked-up

the production designer’s work too. Allen Daviau

parts of this country are already - not just the beer cans - but I wasn’t allowed to.”

“distancing effect” , but they always depend on said, “Everyone yearns for a time machine to take them back to the pastHhe amazing thing is

when you look through the viewfinder and there it is.” In Empire of the Sun (Steven

and he sat in with the grader. Robby Muller

side the set. In one sequence, they opened up

reported a bad experience with the lab on Barfly

the main doors and put the camera outside

Spielberg, 1987), Allen recalled his parents’ photo album: they had visited Shanghai just

(Barbet Schroder, 1987): “He only arrived with a very small notebook.” Robby explained that usu­

looking in.

before World War II. This was the visual starting

ally his contract did not allow his choice of

usual the film would be screened in 1.85. As

point - and obviously accurate. When they started shooting, a local assistant director looked round

laboratory, but that often his advice was taken.

there was very little headroom between the roofline of the shack in the set, and the rig of 30

the location and said, “I was here that day.” They were filming the day the Japanese army arrived.

- B-takes of all the difficult shots, which could be

“spacelights” they had built above the set, Geoff found that he couldn’t frame to include the roof

week, Chris Doyle’s Peach Blossom Land dealt

graded, printed and duped as many times as necessary to minimize the reprints on the origi­ nal negative. He “hasn’t found a producer who

with, inter alia, an old man's reminiscences of

didn’t think it was a good idea”. Peter James also

his first love in Shanghai just before the revolu­ tion.)

used a “test reel from hell” when duping Alive!

wanted to shoot with a hard 1.85 mask in the camera, but this was not acceptable to the dis­

(In one of many resonances through the

On dealing with the labs The great Australian one-light workprint formed a common topic. Australian DOPs, unused to daily corrections, continue to rely on the one fixed element in the process; Sacha Vierny ad­ mitted that labs like working with him and find his exposures very consistent (the one-light graded answer-print?); Allen Daviau insisted on shoot­ ing a normally-lit grey scale at the start of each scene (fearful of a night-shift grader’s “Gosh, he can’t want it that dark” , Allen says: “You take care of the grey scale and I’ll take responsibility for everything behind it”); Robby Müller was

Allen Daviau makes up a “test reel from hell”

The camera mask was 1.33 ratio, but as

of the shack in the cinema mask without reveal­ ing the lighting rig in the television area. He

(Frank Marshall, 1992), and reported that many labs were now flashing the new intermediate

tributors. Geoff said hecan’twaitforwide-screen

stock 5244, and this worked well on the bright

cinema format can be scanned.

(16:9) television to arrive, so that the entire

snow scenes. Interpos, Denis Lenoir mentioned,

Allan Williams, New Technologies Manager

was often used fortelecine transfers, and that he always tried to supervise the transfer. He feels

for Philips, gave us a “state of play” review of

the image has to work on a normal domestic

in the week. He told us that PAL-Plus was soon to arrive, giving viewers regulardefinition, wide­

television receiver: “If you try to transfer as an artist and make no compromises, you’ll be dis­ appointed. Accept that television is a different medium, and lift the black levels.”

On video rushes Allen Daviau is quite emphatic about the need for film rushes:

wide-screen and high-definition television later

screen viewing on conventional or wide-screen sets. He suggested that there would be an in­ crease in the letterbox format on conventional television, to prepare viewers for the change.

However, Allen Daviau’s experience with The Color Purple suggests more viewer resistance.

prepared to shoot a grey scale at the start of

Collective viewing by the whole company is

Purple was film ed with a hard matte for widescreen; to avoid clipping both edges of the

each roll, but found it held him up too much.

essential. With video dailies, what you’re losing

Allen said, “Get a script for the people who are dealing with your rushes - it’s important to be

image, it was screened on television in the

is the intensity of people participating in the film

letterbox format (with a black bar at top and

images. The film look is beyond any technology.

bottom of the 4:3 television screen). There was

able to talk about the characters in the film so you can discuss the scenes with them.” He

Everyone works in anticipation of seeing big screen rushes. It’s already cost something in

even an announcement explaining this at the start of the film. Within minutes of the film start­

spoke warmly of his experiences with the famed

advertising - it’s going to cost the 'intensity of

Don Donecke at Du Art labs in New York, and

com m unity’.

Bob Crowdy of Technicolor, who phoned print­

Later, I asked Peter James what was the

ing lights through to China each day during

effect of neg-to-tape transfers for digital editing

Empire of the Sun. Peter James was less happy about the Montréal lab for Black Robe: “The rushes were different every day, but we brought the neg back here for post-production, and thank God for Arthur Cambridge - he did a wonderful job.”

Liaison with the answer-print grader seems to vary from lab to lab: Chris Doyle reported that Japanese labs don’t let the DOP into the lab, while in Hong Kong, unusually, the lab did tests,

on work overseas. He was incredulous at the

ing, the network’s switchboards were jammed with calls: “This picture is cut off on my TV!” “Sure, that’s so you can see all of the picture, the same as in the cinema.” “No, you don’t under­ stand, I’m not getting the whole picture now, it’s cutting off the top ...’’ Allen expects the 16:9 ratio

suggestion of eliminating the film rushes, believ­ ing the cost saving in digital editing is to be found

to be adopted for television, but is concerned

in the editing process. The reason for transfer­

about old Academy frame movies: “Will they

ring to tape was not in orderto save on workprints.

have to do a vertical pan-and scan?”

On framing and aspect ratios

Digital paranoia

Geoff Burton spoke of the difficulties in shooting Bedevil (Tracey Moffatt, 1993). It was shot in a

The new digital image processing techniques

warehouse-as-studio, with very little space out­

are obviously a source of paranoia for cinema­ tographers. Geoff Burton quoted Bob Fisher, CINEMA

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editor of American Cinematographer. “Digital

part of the choreography of the fight sequence.

Allen Daviau: “A cinematographer needs to

Post could eliminate the need for artistic lighting - we will just shoot everything under flat lighting

Denis Lenoir’s director in M onsieurH/redoubled as camera operator (although Denis’ opinion

think photographically: to see the negative and see it processed; to visit the magic of making a

and create the effects in digital.” Chris Godfrey

was that the director’s first responsibility was to

print. Study what the past masters have done;

of Animal Logic countered that they’d tried it and it didn’t work - yet. He predicted that film had

support the actors “as if they were hanging from the edge of a cliff”). Peter James said that in a

there’s a whole history to draw from.”

Sacha Vierny (on realism): “Film is not realist

another ten years before digital chip technology

big production, the DOP may be running be­

- a n d reality is always greater than fiction ... Did

and compression had caught up, and Lindsay

tween three sets, leaving the operator and the

you like the film [The Cook]? Is it perhaps too

Arnold from Kodak’s Cineon project was there to

gaffer in charge in his absence from each. Peter

violent for Australia?”

show how far digital processing and the film

has always involved himself in design, make-up and directorial decisions as soon as possible in

seldom see it. It’s my private plan to solve

a film (he described the research done through the Jesuit missions to get the Indian make-up

everything with light.”

Denis Lenoir: “I like to put in lots of little things

ing cinematographers to take “an aggressive

right for Black Robe, and his use of El Greco

that the audience might not see but only feel.

and enthusiastic stance towards digital ses­ sions ... or you may find your background light­

paintings as inspiration forthe look). Allen Daviau

Cinema reduces in the cooking - if we put in

emphasized the importance of three-way col­ laboration early on, between director, DOP and

for the audience. We cinematographers don’t

when “aTed Turner may wake up and say, ‘Who

production designer - although several DOPs

have anything to say - we just try (with more or

was this Vivien Leigh, anyway? Let’s redo Gone With The Wind (Victor Fleming, 1939) with Julia

felt they were always brought into the production too late. Sacha Vierny allowed no credit to him­ self - he felt very fortunate that working with

less success) to interpret the director’s choice. If the director couldn’t care less about framing or light, then it’s very hard to do anything good.”

Peter Greenaway allowed him the opportunity to create images and he admitted that they often thought on the same wavelength.

Geoff Burton obviously felt in sympathy: “As a cinematographer, you must facilitate what the director wants, but the most important thing is to

interface had gone already. As usual, though, Allen Daviau had already had the last word on Digital Post a couple of days before. After advis­

ing has been changed” , he predicted the day

Roberts.’” And a single shot of Julia Roberts would be all that the digital “search and replace” programme would need.

On collaboration, and on being a cinematographer

Geoff Burton suggested two models: either

Robby Muller: “ Diffusion? In my films you will

more at the start, then there is still something left

be sure that the director doesn’t screw up.”1

Although there was a session on collaboration, some of the best comments about the DOP’s

that “the chicken was greater than the sum of its parts”, or, more cynically, that in any collabora­ tive venture each person tries to eradicate all

relationship with the rest of the crew came out of

traces of the work of the others.

Deep tones are made even darker, while bright

their individual sessions. The line between DOP and director, and between DOP and camera

This leads to an opportunity to conclude with a quote from each cinematographer.

colours are darkened and become more shadowy.

In the negative process, highlights go brighter,

operator, is clearly not a constant one.

Christopher Doyle said that on martial arts films, after he had lit the set he would leave, and the fight director would operate the camera - as

Christopher Doyle: “I always add to the script.

Even if the script is bad, that’s no excuse for sloppy or unimaginative cinematography. I al­ ways try to be different.”

1

Skipping part or all of the bleach results in a silver image superimposed on the coloured dye image.

and bright colours would be milkier. A similar effect is used normally in optical soundtracks on prints, to gain the strongest possible audio signal in the projector sound head.

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Renderson Partners ATL005

74 • C I N E M A

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ALLEN DAVIAU IN TE R V IE W E D BY L IN D S A Y A M O S

Opening thoughts Film just keeps getting better all the time. It’s not a stationary target, it keeps on improving. You can take gambles - after all, creativity is based on them - and knowing how certain things hap­ pen. By knowing the filmstock and what it can handle, and how much you can ‘beat it up’, as we say, you get confidence in being able to express a lot more emotional tones in the scene of a film, to squeeze that emulsion in such a way that you’re letting the shadows go just as dark as you possibly can and then, a moment later, using an intense highlight. You’re letting the colour tem ­ peratures clash; you’re doing things that allow you to create a great variety of images.

On 'Amblin ' 1 and meeting Steven Spielberg It’ll be 25 years on Sunday, 4 July, that we started shooting Am blin’ (1968). When Steve made that, he was looking for a film that would get him taken seriously. Universal Studios had sort of made him their mascot of young talent programming - you know, future director type of p erso n -b u t they wouldn’t give him any work! He was doing short films and taking them in and showing them. They were 16mm films and they would look at them and say, “Oh, you’re talented ... some day.”

But someday wasn’t now, and he was getting very frustrated. He knew he had to do a film in 35mm to be taken seriously. He said something

Allen Daviau is probably best known for his work on the key films of Steven Spielberg (E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial, 1982; The Color Purple, 1985;

like, “I realized there was this little image in the centre of the wide screen and until I filled up the screen they wouldn’t take me seriously.”

In 1968, he found a guy called Dennis Hoffman, who was one of the owners of an

Empire o f the Sun, 1985), George Miller’s “Terror at 20,000 Feet" (episode

optical house called Cinefex. Dennis was a young

from Twilight Zone: The Movie, 1983) and the more recent Avalon (1990)

man and was very interested to see how he would do as a producer, so he decided, as a test,

and Bugsy (1991), both directed by Barry Levinson.

Daviau delighted a capacity audience with his enthusiastic, informative mix of lecture, awareness of film history, readiness to grapple with the digital revolution - “Why don’t you make sure you’re there when the decisions are made?" - and his ability to share (during the discussion) solutions to the problems he encountered on his films. He seemed to have total recall of the smallest detail. Incorporated in his lecture were screenings of Avalon excerpts in 35mm, several filmstock tests and £.7. excerpts, on laserdisc.

On the studio floor, during the student Masterclass sessions, Daviau passed on the tricks of the trade in a mixture of demonstration, commen­ tary and instruction. The following is a compilation of Daviau’s thoughts incorporating his lecture and personal interview.

to finance a short film.

One of the sidelights was Dennis’ intention to have the film shot in 16mm and then blown up to 35 on his company’s new 16-35 blow-up printer, so he could write off part of the cost as a demonstration of the printer’s capabilities. Well, the first thing Steven did was to persuade Dennis to let Steven shoot it in 35mm and, when I was brought into the project by Steve, I did the same thing. Eventually, we wore Dennis down and we actually made it in 35mm. I think the film cost $15,000 in 1968, which is a lot of money.

Shooting in 35mm, in 1.85:1, was a great adventure and experience. We shot the sunrise every morning and the sunset every night for 10 days straight. It was a very intense experience.

Then Steven edited the film.

I don’t know how to describe the film. I’ve always called it an “idyll” . There’s no dialogue, just music and effects. You have to remember this was ’68, the height of the hippy era, and the film is about a young man and young woman CINEMA

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hitch-hiking in separate directions through the

strange being assigned to you, but I’ve seen

case of whichever camera was shooting and he

desert. They join forces and proceed to have a

your films” - both the Mad Max films at that point

just energized the whole thing.

love affair. They reach the coast and he runs

- “and I’m anxious to work with you.” He said,

That was it, basically: working at very low-

down to the ocean, while she smiles and turns

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll have a great time.”

light levels in a way that we could move very

and walks away. That’s the end of the film! I think

George’s attitude was just so wonderful. His

Steven felt it was a bit calculated. It was made to

watchwords were: “Be Bold! Let’s do something

quickly from set-up to set-up. The two cameras in motion, the Steadicam and the hand-held

be shown to studio executives and, while it was

as crazy as we can to make this really memora­ ble, really scary. Allen, I’ll only be half as mad at

dealing with contemporary themes, it was also very much an old-fashioned motion picture.

were good for different things. We could choreo­ graph any way they wanted. They never saw a

There was quite a buzz when this 21-yearold was signed by Universal. He tried to bring me

you if you blow something too daringly than I’ll be if you blow it for playing it too safe. The worst

the little ‘pop’ lights - fine. I walked around with

thing that could happen is that we’ll have to go

a fluorescent tube in my hand, being able to

along with him and Universal even tried to sign

back next morning and reshoot it, because we’ll

move around the cameras.

me to some sort of deal, but the union at that time

be on the same plane set!” Although, boy, did

George just created this atmosphere of free­

said, “Forget it. No way are you getting in.” So I said, “Don’t worry, Steven. I’ve got this 35mm

that plane really got trashed by the end of 12 days!

dom and I just have to say that it was one of the

film to show and I’ll get into commercials and I’ll

We were fortunate in that we were allowed to build a plane set. Warner Bros, wanted us to go

most enjoyable experiences in filmmaking. I consider myself very lucky. I’m the only Ameri­ can cinematographer to have worked with both

and shoot it on one of the available airplane

George Miller and Peter Weir, and it was just a

mock-ups, which are just ajoke. But Jim Bissell,

delight to work with both of them. I look forward to working with them again!

be able to do work for you.” And I d id - it just took 11 years, because I was so involved with union politics, lawsuits and so on. I didn’t get into the union until 1978!

But Am blin’ \nsp\red a whole bunch of people with the idea of the “calling card film”. When you see it today, you can see touches of Spielberg’s style. There’s no question about that.

O n 'Schindler’s List1 (Steven Spielberg 1993) the black-and-w hite film Daviau d id n ’t get to shoot

the same designer who did E. T., didn’t have the budget to do all the plane movements properly.

light, which was part of the game, or if they saw

A comparison would be the submarine in Das Boot [Wolfgang Petersen, 1981], which had all

O n operators and operating

kinds of gimbals and shakers and everything.

operator - maybe in terms of the kind of things I’ve had to light. I knew years ago when I was

I feel it’s just much more efficient to work with an

We couldn’t do that. The best Jim could do was put some two-by-fours under the middle of the thing and shake it.

doing educationals and commercials that the day would come when I would get into feature

My gaffer, Pat Kirkwood, and I set about building the light into the plane, so we could

and I wanted to prepare myself for it because,

production and I would have to use an operator,

people in the seat. They would actually be like

believe me, it’s the most difficult thing in the world to tear yourself away from that eyepiece.

since Empire of the Sun, but this Polish camera­

light fixtures in the little pods above the seats. All of that was designed in, with a little bit of indirect

cated dolly moves and so on, while the operator

man is supposed to be fabulous. Not only had he worked in black and white before, he knew about

lighting above. The goal was that George wanted a lot of freedom.

film being processed in this lab in East Ger­ many, which is supposed to be one of the bestkept secrets going.

sion movie justprio rto this where I’d metGarrett

It was shot by a Polish cameraman named Janos Kaminsky. I’ve not worked with Steve

Steven told me just before he left to shoot it in Poland that he found these guys in New York who are doing some variation on the old stencil process from the ’20s. They’re going to be able to stamp colour onto a black-and-white print, in the selected areas. The stars on the Jews at the railway station will have pale yellow, and the flags will have a pale red - not on colour stock, but on a black-and-white print! There’ll only be about 25 prints for the whole world, so I hope Australia gets one.

shoot in any direction and the lights would hitthe

The other thing was that I had done a televi­ Brown, who’d been involved with Steadicam on that, and I said to him, “I know you’ve worked all these years to make the camera as steady as

I also learned that if you have a lot of compli­ and the assistant and the dolly grip are working this out and the director is going over the block­ ing of the scene, I can be lighting.

Working beside the camera I can make things happen more quickly. I can getthings into place, alter the lighting a little bit, maybe float an

the

additional flag, put a little bit of shade someplace that didn’t have it before. I just find that it’s easier

UNsteadicam?” So I had the best of both worlds: the man who invented the Steadicam on

to do than if I were also intent on the operating, because somebody said to me, “A great opera­

Steadicam and John Toll, the greatest hand­ held operator going.

tor looks at the corners and feels the centre.” I should be looking at the centre. I’m there to look at the people, to look at the light falling on them.

That’s my feeling.

p o s s ib le ,

but

co uld

you

make

it

I think there’s only six or eight cuts in the entire segment that are done on a dolly in a standard way. Basically the movement in the

With Spielberg, I never made it because Steven basically hogs the camera himself in

O n G eorge M iller and T e rro r at 20,000 Feet’

plane comes from the camera, other than the little ‘jigging’ which we could do. The actors had to do their own movement and the cameras did all of the other movement.

I rememberwhen George Millercame overin ’82 to do Twilight Zone, he said, “I don’t think I’ve

The built-in lighting was predicated on the new high-speed stock at the time, 5293. Nobody

in blocking people to the camera that I’ve ever seen, but it takes time to do it. Because I’ve worked with him for so long, I have to know

blocking a scene. He’s the most magical person

which direction he is headed. We’d talk general

ever shot on a sound stage before.” Well, I think

was really sure how fast it was. So we put in all

parameters and I’d start lighting as soon as he

we filmed “Terror at 20,000 Feet” in 12 days. We had one night at Van Nuys airport and the rest

the lights and shot a test. We found out I had to

started blocking. Sometimes I’d have to start

expose it at between 2 and 2.8. Thank heavens there was enough light, because that’s all there

over again but it was the only way to work fast

ent directors but Steven Spielberg wanted me to photograph all four. At the time I was up for a big

was! We bet the farm that we could make it work with the low-voltage lamps, but that was in the spirit of what George had encouraged. He

once the shot’s set up, let’s start shooting; he wants to be there.

feature. By the time I knew I was not going to get that picture, John Landis had already gone ahead

brought incredible discipline to it; he storyboarded the whole episode.

better than you are! It’s not that easy to find

was all done on the stage at Warner Bros.

Initially, the film was going to have four differ­

and gotten anothercinematographerfor his seg­

We had video-assist for the Steadicam and

ment. So I suggested the Joe Dante segment

George, who had never seen video-assist be­

should be done by John Hora, who is an old friend of mine. As it turned out, I got to do the

fore, asked to have it for the hand-held camera,

George Miller and Spielberg segments.

When I met George, I said, “I feel a little

76 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

95

too. George would sit down with the storyboards at a desk where he had a video monitor. He could observe whatever was going on in the*:

enough to be ready on time, because, “boom”,

The other secret is to find an operator who is really good operators, but I’ve been very fortu­ nate. I have a system in which people tend to suggest operators to me, but the most important part is that I’m aware of the shot. With the video assist, I’m always able to check just what’s going on, while being free of the camera during the scene.

As of Monday 4th October, we’re m o v in g in to 176 Bank Street, South Melbourne - right in the heart of Melbourne’s film industry. This means a more user friendly face to face service right on your doorstep.

A t our new Bank Street address we will be m o v in g u p , up on to the first level of purpose built accommodation. (If you can recall our old location you will agree this is indeed a real move up!)

And of course, we are m o v in g a lo n g , along with the times. Apart from our excellent colour, black & white and sound services, we are able to offer overnight video rushes, Osc/r tape to film interface, Hi Res Kines, Digital frame store colour grading and a brand new 30 seat theatrette.

So when you’re on the move, drop in and see the new boys on the block.

©

Z

Digital Film Laboratories / 76 Bank Street South Melbourne Victoria 3205 Telephone 03) 696 5533 Facsimile 03) 696 9300

OPEN CHANNEL

Australian Taxation O ffice Film and Video Production

Audit Project ATO (Chatswood) is conducting an audit project into film and video production so as to determine the level of compliance with taxation law within the industry.

The project will be looking at film and video production companies based in the Sydney metropolitan area.

IS VICTORIA’S DEVELOPMENT CENTRE FOR INDEPENDENT FILM AND VIDEO. As Australia's largest community based video organisation providing access to production and training facilities, Open Channel's track record is more than impressive.

Numerous awards, high quality programs, training courses and the accessibility of staff and facilities reflect Open Channel's commitment to quality and the community at large.

Issues to be examined include: Timing of Income Fringe Benefits Tax

Production Expenses Record Keeping

Contact Open Channel for more information Award winning production house

Voluntary disclosures of any errors or omissions before an audit commences significantly reduce any additional tax payable.

OPEN CH A N N EL 13 V icto ria Street F itzro y 3065 Ph: 03/419 5111 Fax: 03/419 1404

If you wish to make any enquiries regarding the project, please contact:

Ellen Poppitt (02) 419 9141

O p en

AB1 -3000151

Channel acknow ledges

assistance fro m th e A u stralian Film C om m ission a n d Film V icto ria

Umili!

CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 . 77

I have great respect for Robby Müller, who

found every one of them to be so gratifying. So

does his own operating. Believe me, I think his work is absolute magic, so it’s whatever works

the chance to work with him was absolutely the

for you. As a situation, some people might prefer

kind of experience I wanted. He is not only a great artist, but a great gentleman. He is some­

one and not the other. But I’m happy with the

body who enjoys sharing the moment of creation

system the way it is, and I think you also get an

and allows everyone who works with him to share that kind of joy.

additional creative input from somebody who’s viewing the scene.

Actors in particular just gravitate to him. That

O n incorporating new ideas

is also true of cinematographers and designers.

The designer John Stoddart and Paula Weinstein j

Empire of the Sun was the movie where I really

and her late husband Mark Rosenberg and the

started to do f-stop changes. It just became part

company they set up, have a philosophy of making the most wonderful quality films.

of the vocabulary - cinematographers will ap­ preciate what I mean. Adjusting the f-stop during a take seems like something you don’t want to

I love to be involved in things that don’t

do, because if you mess it up somebody’s going

concern the cinematographer at all. I just like to be there to see a scoring session and I like to see

to see it. On Empire of the Sun, there was no

some portions of the dub. I find it an incredible

choice because there were huge shots. No way could I have lit up the area to balance one side of the pan with the other. So the secret was to

ticket to ride that I get to sit in and watch people like Peter W eirand Maurice Jarre in atiny studio not much bigger than this, with five musicolo­

adjust the f-stop during the pan. I got into the habit of doing it with a remote f-stop changer and

This is the fifth film they’ve all done together;

it just opened up a whole new world.

And this was something that has been going on since Billy Bitzer, probably, and the birth of film. Rather than pouring light in to fill a shadow area and bringing it up to the same intensity of the sunlit areas, it looked much better if I, like the human eye, just opened up. I found it to be a much more natural procedure.

Now it’s become a part of the language and I found on Bugsy that I did it just in interiors. I call it “changing the exposure base”. We were shoot­ ing in some extremely small rooms and I found that if people moved from one part of the room to another, particularly if they moved through a shadow, I could reset the exposure base as they moved, for the other side of the room.

O n ‘Fearless* (1993) and Peter Weir A producer named Paula Weinstein found this property by marvellous young novelist, Rafael Iglesias. She’s known him and his family for some years. She read it and, like great produc­ ers do, she knew exactly who should do it Peter Weir. She’d met Peter and always wanted to work with him, and she sent him Rafael’s novel. It worked out that Rafael also did the screenplay-he and Peter worked on it together.

Peter just loved the idea of the film and was committed to it.

It is not a large budget film by Hollywood standards. It’s a Warner Bros studio movie and was done in San Francisco last fall.

Peter had never worked with anyone but Australian cinematographers before, but he told me later that if he was going to continue making films in America he should occasionally try an American cameraman. I know Paula brought up my name. Peter told me he had really enjoyed Avalon, in particular, and that was the impetus of his wanting to meet me. I remember my agent called and said “Peter Weir wants to meet you”, and I said, “ I don’t care what he’s doing. This is somebody I want to meet.”

Peter Weir is the kind of filmmaker that has impressed me. I’ve been seeing his films for so long, from the Australian films through, and I 78 • C I N E M A

PAPERS

95

gists who all have different forms of synthesizer. they run a scene and Maurice goes over the music with the people and they each audition their instrument. Then Maurice and Peter pick the parts that each of them are to play. It is the most unusual and directly creative system of recording a soundtrack that I’ve ever seen and here’s Maurice - “the man who did Lawrence of Arabia” - and he is just a very nice quiet person.

You seethe people Petersurrounds himself with and it’s all on this thing of enjoying creating together.

Fearless is a very hard film to describe be­ cause you say something along the lines of “a man survives a plane crash and views his life in a different way,” and go, “Uh, oh, this could sound like some yuppie drama about somebody going off to save the earth,” but it’s not like that at all. It’s literally Jeff Bridges playing a man who, after surviving plane crash - half the peo­ ple live, half the people die - questions why he was chosen to survive.

The film touches on so many things that are unusual and impossible to summarize in a few sentences, but it is one of those films which, although it sounds so quiet, is utterly dynamic and moves like lightning from one thing to the other! People cannot believe the film is over. It’s got such quiet power to it and Jeff Bridges’ performance is something else.

What we were looking for, I think, is “This is a man looking at the world in a different way.” We wanted to get images that read quickly, that were very clear. At the same time, it’s very different photographically - it’s a study of faces.

There are some pyrotechnics, some effects and some things like that, but it is a study of faces more than anything else. As such, it doesn’t sound as if it were so exciting to do, but it absolutely was, particularly when you see the circumstances in which some of the meetings of the people take place.

The word “straightforward” springs to mind but wasn’t the way it was achieved. We tried to get images that would state what the characters’ feelings were at the time, studies of faces that would help us understand the transformation of all the characters. Every major character in the film has a transformation.

O n ‘A valon1and w orking with Barry Levinson One of the thrills, when a cinematographer is assigned to a film and meets with the director, is that you have the whole of film history that you can go back and evaluate to see which elements will lend something to the story you’re about to tell. While we have all these modern techniques, sometimes looking back and studying what the past masters of the medium have done can give us inspiration. I think the most satisfying of all the films I’ve done in recent years is Avalon, for Barry Levinson.

We had never met before. I had just done Empire of the Sun, which was another very satisfying experience. I took a long time after that film to do another and I was looking for something that said something to me. When I met with Barry and read the script for Avalon, it was like, “This is what I’ve been waiting for.” I remember thinking, “How could we make this film special in a visual way?” I felt that the film spoke to everyone who had ever known a first generation arrival in a foreign country.

In searching for a device to give a visual distancing, I realized that the age of silent film was framing many of the flashbacks in this story and that we could provide a cinematic context by giving some inkling of what was being done in silent films. One of the things I had not seen explored in narrative films in some time was the use of motion. We decided on the technique of stretch-printing, where we shot at 15 fps and printed every second frame twice. In some peo­ ple’s minds it makes it just like 24. Of course, it doesn’t. Information is missing and it’s being manufactured in a certain way to re-insert it. I think that changes the nature of the movement on the screen and it was one of the things I wanted to test.

When I ran the test for Barry, he understood right away what I was trying to say about the nature of motion. I said to him, “Barry, you’ve seen this many times in restored silent films and documentaries; the difference is, you’ve never seen it in colour.” He immediately accepted it and backed me completely. The one question he had was, “How would it work with fireworks?” We did a test for that and we found out some inter­ esting things: the motion across the screen was more dramatic in terms of exaggerating the judder that you get from inserting the missing information. He incorporated this into a lot of his ideas for shots and it became the basis for the framing flashbacks in the film.

You get an idea, you test it, and the director looks at it and you work from there. It sets a motif for how the whole film is going to be made.

The filmstock was the new 5296, which had just been introduced, and the extraordinary speed of it definitely changed the way we approached doing this film. It’s the kind of thing that helps get more realism into a picture when we go into real locations. Avalon is a film that was most defi­ nitely influenced by where it was shot. The director had been carrying many of these loca­ tions around in his head his entire life - he was telling his own family story and he wanted to get so much of his city into it. Baltimore’s a fantastic

city in that regard. Like Sydney, from what I’ve

If we go into a day interior, I say, “Before we

I notice a writer like Nabokov always de­

seen in the brief glimpses, Baltimore has the soul

have the rehearsal, let me get some light coming

scribes the light in a situation. You’re left with

of a city where people actually live in the city.

through the windows.” If it’s a night interior - this

images because the man obviously went through

One of the great experiences on working on

is true stage or location - just let me get the

his life noticing light and knowing how to describe

Avalon was getting to work again with a produc­

it eloquently. What we’re trying to do is interpret

tion designer named Norman Reynolds. We

practical lamps turned on. I have found out that when you present the motivations for the light

worked together on Empire of the Sun. The

sources in a scene before the rehearsal starts,

light in dramatic terms, in poetic terms. It’s not just a visual phenomenon - it’s light and emotion

collaboration of the cinematographer and de­

people tend to block the scene with the light in

- and I think you can’t do that until you have the

signer is the most important after the collabora­

mind. They tend to block around the light; they

confidence in everything that you’re doing. It’s

tion with the director. If it’s not in front of the

make the light an organic part of the scene.

like a musician looking for certain notes.

camera, it’s not there to shoot, particularly when

Actors tend to play toward the light.

you’re dealing with a period film. I can’t tell you

I find that when you start the lighting in an

how much it means to have the attention to detail that’s put there.

organic manner like that, you get a feeling that’s

Because of Levinson’s preference for shoot­ ing with two cameras, in Avalon I had to try and use natural sources as much as I could so that it played. I wasn’t able to do a specific kind of lighting on close-ups. I had big dinner table

very real, even when you have moments that you want to be theatrical. It’s not just motivating sou rces - it encourages movement of the actors. I swear with all kinds of directors this works as a system: have light that means something.

scenes and so on - we had to use a lot of small,

I also find as a matter of philosophy that the fewer lamps you use, the simpler you keep it, the

#

LATE-BREAKING NEWS ITEM

When you're on a good thing, stick to it!

One major problem, and an expensive one at that, is the number of times a scene has

hard units, which is not my favourite thing, but I

better it is. Every light you turn on is going to create

to be shot again due to friendly flies at outdoor locations. Close-ups for films and advertisements are nearly always re-shot

found it was the only way I could make the closeups survivable and have the highlights in the

its own set of problems and you get too fussy. When I look back at images that I’ve done, the ones that

fly lands on the eyelid of that actress, or,

eyes and the shape of the face - the look of it.

drive me crazy are the ones that got too fussy.

even worse, on the lips.

if a fly lands on the lips of that actor, or a

On lighting techniques

I find that my tendency is to be a soft lighter.

Now there is a Fly man available in

I come from soft light and I like it very much, but

each state, who can put up an out-of -shot

When you shoot on location, one thing I find is that it gives an instant inspiration; you find things

hard light is far more controllable and a cinema­ tographer has to be able to use both. Both occur

barrier of special fly traps. The traps really work, ensuring fewer delays on outdoor

in a location that speak to you and encourage you to use authenticity in the lighting and compo­

in real life and both occur at the same time. As a

sets.

cinematographer, you spend a lot of your time

Producers or directors (or accountants) contact Graham Davies-Smith for details.

sitions. The interesting thing was the re-discovery of the sound stage probably around the late ’70s when people suddenly discovered it was a really excellent idea to have these things around.

flpl

looking at light and looking at situations. You study light, particularly where you have an emo­ tional response to something. You tend to re­ member light for that reason.

Telephone: (02) 579 1487. Fax: (02) 579 3010.

[As received.]

FRAMEWORKS LONG FORM SUPPORT HAS CHANGED POST PRODUCTION FOR GOOD The day Frameworks introduced the first Avid to Australia we set about refining the way a long form project should be supported in the new 'Non-Linear1 environment. Working with top editors and producers of drama, documentaries and features, Frameworks' Stephen Smith has perfected a system that takes

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care of everything. From rushes to neg. matching. Daily budget and progress reporting. And, apart from always being accessable, ft 11 ‘ Stephen still supervises complete or refresher Avid courses for the editor.Frameworks is the most experienced digital Non-Linear facility in Australia.

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His accurate budgeting and proven post production back-up, can only be good for your next project.

FRAMEWORKS 2 RIDGE STREET NORTH SYDNEY 2060TPHONE (02)954 0904 FAX (02)954 9017 CINEMA

PAPERS

9 5 . 79

Eight

Critics'

Best

and

Worst

A PANEL OF EIGHT FILM REVIEWERS HAS RATED A SELECTION OF THE LATEST RELEASES ON A SCALE OF 0 TO 10, THE LATTER BEING THE OPTIMUM RATING (A DASH MEANS NOT SEEN). THE CRITICS ARE: SANDRA HALL

(THE BULLETIN); PAUL HARRIS ( “EG” THE AGE, 3RRR); IVAN HUTCHINSON (SEVEN NETWORK;

HERALD-SUN, MELBOURNE); STAN JAMES {THE ADELAIDE ADVERTISER)-, SCOTT MURRAY; NEIL JILLETT (THE AGE); TOM RYAN (3LO; THE SUNDAY AGE,

L A B E L L E N O I S E U S E J a c q u e s R iv e t t e

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BLAD E RUNNER

E V A N W IL L IA M S

T O M R YAN

SCOTT M URRAY

NEIL JILLETT

STAN JA M E S

IVAN H U T C H IN S O N

D ir e c t o r

P A U L H AR R IS

FILM TITLE

{THE AUSTRALIAN, SYDNEY). DAVID STRATTON WAS IN VENICE.

S A N D R A H A LL

MELBOURNE); AND EVAN WILLIAMS

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Fi l m V i c t o r i a ecognisingthecultural significance of filmbysupportingorganisations, projects ami events whichfoster theappreciationof filmandtelevision anddevelopan audienceandinfrastructure for Australianproduction.

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